Eyes in the Darkness OOC (40k)

[Christoph]

Eyes in the Darkness

A new millennium looms ominously on the temporal horizon. Even as the planet of Corrinth vies for sector leadership, ruins still clog many streets in their capital city, with gang and cult activity running rampant in the recently-dubbed “Rubble Town”. When planetary Governess Ethena Ralteon petitioned the Planetary Inquisitor Silas Vern for additional assistance, a number of other Inquisitors answered the call. Some arrived with great pomp and spectacle, to better strike fear into the hearts of the defiant. Others crept silently onto the planet, unknown even to the Corrinthian government.

Among them came Malachi Klightus of the Ordo Hereticus, one of the youngest Inquisitors in the sector. While acting under instructions from the High Inquisitor Council of Ataraxis to extinguish rogue psyker and cult activity at its sources, Malachi also pursues other more inscrutable goals.

As player-characters, you will form Cell Epsilon in Malachi’s organization, an established team in his service, but not yet fully trusted. You will begin on Corrinth, investigating various heretical activities and shady organizations. Your focus begins on the illicit movement of rogue witches off the planet, as well as the mysterious disappearances of Sanctioned Psykers. Things are rarely as they seem, and Inquisitor Malachi Klightus shrouds his true motives.

What follows is a story full of twists and turns, mystery and excitement. Experience the corrupt politics of the Noble Houses and explore the darkest underbellies of Imperial civilization. Sinister machinations move within the Inquisition itself, and soon the characters will find themselves embroiled in a far deeper conspiracy.

*

Information on Corrinth is already posted in the main Interest Check thread for Ataraxis, but I will paste it below as well. Characters will form an Inquisitorial cell. The PCs shouldn’t be amazingly skilled or powerful, but can definitely be competent and proficient at their various roles. Remember: You’re not rookies, but you’re not Inquisitorial veterans either.

The story will center on this group, and while there is an overarching metaplot in the works, this story’s direction will be guided just as much by the actions of the characters. Anyone familiar with Dark Heresy can use the various careers as inspiration, but you don’t need to limit yourself. There will be some gritty action and violence, but character interactions and elements of mystery will be more prevalent. In other words, don’t design a character designed to be a beast in combat and then complain about not getting to smash enough heads.

If you’re unsure about a particular character idea, PM me, IM me, or catch me in the chat room. Or post it here. Whichever. Post your characters in this thread.

Corrinth:

Inquisitorial Edicts (Rules, yo):

1.) I am the final arbiter. I try to leave things fairly open for the players to guide the story and decide outcomes, but I am the final judge in any disputes. If you have questions, comments, or concerns, feel free to bring them up via my PM or AIM, or catch me in the chat. Word to the wise: things probably won’t always go your way, so get used to it and use it to have more fun, rather than less. The Imperium is a grim place.

2.) There will be a good deal of social interaction going on, both between PCs and with NPCs. “Bunnying” (IE: including the actions of other characters in your posts) is allowed if and ONLY if you gain permission from the other player and work out the content ahead of time. Please include a note on top of your post letting everyone know that you have permission, and try to make sure everything is clear. With that said, I tentatively encourage this, as it helps keep things moving in many circumstances. If you’re unsure if it’s an appropriate time to ‘bunny’ actions and dialogue, ask me.

3.) Standard etiquette applies. Be polite, don’t powergame, and in general don’t make me cause bad things to happen to your character prematurely. A certain quality of writing should go without saying on FoG. I’m not asking for novel-quality tear-jerking prose, but put forth some effort to give everyone something good to read with every post, short or long.

4.) Fun is mandatory. XD

With all that said, you may begin posting your character profiles.

[ArcturusV]

"Random, ho!":

Name: The Seeker (Used Name) Geth (True Name)

Age: 21

Profession: Imperial Sanctioned Psyker and Diviner of Fate

Description: A slight man, short of stature, and thin. But it's not the gaunt slightness of a malnourished and under exercised human, but a lean, wiry strength, built for quick powerful movements, and long enduring hardships. He seems to come from an unusual stock, with dark brown skin, but red fiery hair and bright blue eyes, a combination he never realized was that strange until he traveled the stars. His facial features are sharply angled, with slightly pointed ears, straight, angled eyebrows, a small straight edged nose, and pointed jaw and chin. His savage homeland shows itself in the form of tattoos: A stream of tears from his left eye down to his jaw. A crude depiction of a third eye. A right forearm covered in a flame pattern. And on his chest and stomach, a large tattoo of a shadow creature, with bright green eyes and a mouth seemingly too large for the face curved up in a grotesque smile. Most these tattoos are hidden during the course of the day by the robes he wears, crude, simple, modest affairs, colored a dull beige, cinched up by a leather belt, a hood attached to the back. Geth prefers to go barefoot when possible, his rough calloused feet feeling very uncomfortable in the shoes and boots of civilized men.

Equipment: Geth is, and never was, a fighter. Even back on his savage homeworld, he was not a hunter or warrior, but picked out for his natural talents and strange insights to be part of the small inner circle of leadership. As such he is untrained, and wholly uncomfortable in combat for the most part, preferring to instead use his talents to evade and circumvent trouble.

The Emperor's Tarot: One of his primary "tools", and favored device for dealing with trouble. Geth has been a Seer for many years, and before his time in service to the Inquisition he spent most of his time in service to Lords and Nobles, divining the future of matters as grave as war and politics, to the minor petty concerns of their Ladies in Waiting. Geth's set of the Emperor's Tarot had been given to him during his Sanctioning on Holy Terra, and has been by his side since then. They are well worn, ancient cards that most likely date several centuries at the very least.

Psykana Mercy Blade: Also received during his Sanctioning on Holy Terra, this weapon is a well crafted dagger, 12 inches of blade length, straight edged. It has yet to taste blood, either his own or an enemy's, and likely will not until that moment when Geth's fate runs its course and there is no recourse left.

Turek: The Turek is a common tool for Geth's people, and in fact is little more than a knife. Thin of blade, with only one edged. The tip of the knife is narrow, its sides blunt. The blade has a slight curve to it, and a small saw toothed section near the thick, heavy handle. The Turek is used for everything from a an eating utensil, to a simple home improvement tool. It is ill suited for use as a weapon.

Kindrex: Another item from Geth's people. This is an actual weapon intended for close quarters use. A heavy bracer with a long 2 foot blade that extends over the back of the hand. It's a primitive weapon, but quite well suited to the wet work when it needs to be done. Geth handles it with a decent level of natural talent, but would never be confused for an expert warrior. But he is learning quickly due to the violent nature of his current service.

Skills, Talents, and Training:

Geth is, and has been, a fortune teller and diviner for most of his young life. His unnatural talent emerged at a young age, and his people, failing to recognize the insights and wisdom the kid had as anything other than luck and fate, chose to bring him into the inner circle. When the Black Ships came, it was discovered his talents were after all the gifts of the Warp. He was taken away in the middle of the night, sent off the Terra for the rigors of Sanctioning.

Geth's Psychic talents always lead towards divination of the future. He seemed to have an unnatural awareness of his surroundings, sometimes reacting seemingly before things even happened. This natural talent was supplemented by several psychic tricks he picked up through his training and sanctioning. His powers have slowly developed, and are continuing to grow. He has proven himself able, and willing, to use his psychic powers when needed, not holding them back as only a last resort. If timely application of some trick can end a situation quickly and favorably, he won't hesitate to use it.

Fortune Telling: Geth doesn't always use his psychic talents to read the future and answer the questions of frivolous people. He was well warned against the dangers of over using his powers and the corruption it can bring. So he trained himself to "fake it" convincingly with the Emperor's Tarot, particularly in the questions of noble ladies without a care beyond affairs and fashions.

History: In the high, rough mountains of Erilia, Geth was born. His people lived a simple life, more or less removed from the machinations of the vast Imperium, their barbaric existence only every drawing attention when the need for Guardsmen was so dire that any tough, strong men were needed to fill out the ranks, and even then it was the larger tribes in the lowlands that garnered more attention. From a young age, Geth was marked as a strange, abnormal child. His coloration was unlike other members of the tribe, leading many to believe he had been touched by the Great Eagle (An aspect of the God Emperor). He was taken away from his immediate family and never did learn who his parents were. From the time he was able to learn and understand speech the wisest of men in his village tried to groom him for his eventual, and obvious place as the leader of his people. He learned the greatest of wisdom his people had to offer, wisdom from the Sky Men (Priests of the Ministorium who had spread the Cult of the God-Emperor ages past), and the occult knowledge that mystics had gleaned over millenia.
These occult lessons included deep meditations, and rites to see into the young man's future. Each of these three great trials resulted in a deep vision, commemorated by one of the tattoos upon him. The third eye was first, a vision interpreted to represent a distant and unnatural sight. A figure, cloaked in well meaning shapes and great signs and portents who was in fact a deadly foe behind a friendly smile. The tear was the second tattoo. A great a personal loss which would send his soul into the depths of madness and despair. It would seem that all was lost but for a small, desperate chance. And in the depths of that despair, he would need to find the strength to take it. The third, most disturbing, and final before the arrival of the Black Ships, was a vision of his death. In a place with a sky that was completely unfamiliar to him, even the stars were not his own. A creature hunted him, trapped him. And in a short battle, dominated him utterly and completely. It did not kill him, but left him alive, to enjoy his suffering at the tortures of the inhuman creature until his body could take no more. This creature, little more than an inhuman shadow and glowing green eyes, was tattooed on his front. Geth knew he must face this fate, if he ran, if he hid, it would come true. It would hunt him down and every moment of the vision would come to pass.
At age 10, he was taken by the Black Ships. Inquisitorial forces found him in his remote village, taking him away in the dead of the night. By the time anyone realized what was happening, he had already been sent to the Black Ship, locked away in stasis for the long journey to Holy Terra. There he was tried and tested, found strong enough to serve the Imperium as more than just fodder for the God-Emperor's throne. His half trained ways resulted in months of torture to test his purity and drive the potential corruption away. The experience left him stronger of will, and used to pain being applied directly to his nervous system, making minor scrapes and bruises pale in comparison.
After his Sanctioning, and his training in the psychic arts, he was sent back to his home sector, though never to see his home world again. A noble with connections to the Adeptus Terra arranged for his assignment to Barony Secundus and his household. Things were hard for him here, as he had no idea how to correctly behave in this position. At least during his Sanctioning, there was a routine of obvious, direct hardships to endure and survive. Dealing with the more subtle maneuverings of the nobility was beyond his grasp, eventually leading to him being caged deep within the manor of the noble family, kept as the Patriarch's private secret and council. His patron's power and prestige rose quickly as the benefits of Geth's farseeing was exploited, until the fairly minor noble had become one of the dominant players within planetary politics and the economy. With that meteoric rise, came the scrutiny from forces far beyond his patron, including the Inquisition. The secret of the man's success couldn't be hidden any longer, suspecting witchcraft, a raid was conducted, and found Geth, a Sanctioned Psyker being held as a prisoner. His interrogation was long and brutal, though not as horrific as his Sanctioning. Found free of corruption, for the time being, the Inquisitor in question decided to keep Geth on as a useful tool, his proven ability to peer into the future an obvious asset.



First character up.

[Guilty Carrion]

Name: Demyan Maihailov
Age: 33
Physical Traits: Demyan is built and bred for combat, standing tall over his fellow man and boasting a thickness that speaks of his physical hardships over the years. His body is heavily muscled, and his pale white skin is tough like leather and scarred beyond measure. Boasting a thick and rough facial structure, it is difficult to even look at Demyan’s face for long, his frigid steel eyes unrelenting and disturbing in their intensity. No matter where his duties carry him, a thick strip of dirty brown hair adorns his chin, although his skull is always flawlessly shaved clean. Twin tattoos of the Adeptus Arbites Iconography adorn his shoulders, and the Imperial Aquila in full display on his chest. He rarely without his Arbitrator armour, preferring to wear the protective suit at all times, knows full well that the enemy could be easily hiding right in plain sight. It is kept in immaculate condition, cleaned and polished to a perfect sheen whenever he finds the time necessary to undertake such a task.
Personality Summary: Demyan is man driven and defined by his ideals, no matter the cost to him. No matter what he is to do, be it simple day to day tasks, or hunting heretics, he puts himself into it 110%. If one has broken the laws laid clear in the Lex Imperia, he is unforgiving and unrelenting until those guilty have made penance to the exact context of the law. A looming death threat, the Arbitrator is brutal and absolute once provoked, his rage unleashing itself in fits of physical destruction that often leave his targets a gore smeared mess. His loyalty is much like the rest of his mentality, difficult to truly obtain, but once you have it, Demyan will follow you straight into the jaws of death without batting an eyelash.
History: Born and promptly abandoned on Idirov, Demyan was just another street rat amongst millions of others, each fighting and killing to live just another day. He was no different, but the boy possessed a spark for life the other’s lacked, driving him that much further to live and escape the brutal existence around him.

Rouge psykers and chaos cults ruled the under hives of Idirov, dragging the lost and desperate off to their hidden alters for sacrifice or conversion into the black worship of Chaos. Demyan was enamoured by the sights of warriors in blackened armour crushing those who stood before them without mercy, and their blazing image kept him clear of the corruption that pried at him from all sides. At 16, he tried to enter the academy for the warriors, only to be refused due to his heritage.

Undeterred, the teen sought to prove himself worthy to stand amongst them, and quickly tracked down one of the cultists. Armed with a rusted pipe, he confronted the man, ordering him to except his punishment in the name of the Adeptus Arbites. The street brawl was over so fast he could scarcely think, but the cultists, a snivelling wretch of a man, lay broken at his feet. Demyan wasted no time dragging the heretic to the Precinct, where he turned the mewling urchin over for judgement. A local judge impressed that the boy had the strength of conviction to go and prove himself before the Emperor against his unholy foe, overturned his rejection, and enrolled the teen into the academy to become an Arbitrator.

Seven years of intense training crafted Demyan into a loyal, and ruthless fighting machine, hell bent on enforcing the laws of his holiness without mercy for its violators. His demeanour only hardened after his training, but a rare few of his comrades could call the calloused man their friend, and he proved his loyalty whenever they called upon him. With purpose in his heart, and the right to enforce it, Demyan grew quickly into a fearsome Arbitrator.

When the Great Purge of Idirov was declared, Demyan was first on the frontline for the bloody affair, cutting down those he had once lived amongst without remorse. Street by street, day by day, the planet was slowly rid of its cancers, entire cults slaughtered in the course of hours, only for another to be found minutes later and the mad rush of gunfire and close quarters combat would begin again. Millions died as the Precinct pushed into the under hives, but the heretics gave no quarter, whilst the Arbitrators asked for none.

In one of the last dying battles of a cult that had claimed almost an entire city, Demyan’s battalion came under attack by a rouge psyker of unprecedented strength. The heretic cast forth gobs of warp fire, devouring armour, cover and man alike as they fought to kill the monstrosity. Ignoring the wounded, Demyan strode forth over the rubble, his spent Combat Shotgun laying discarded in the heap of corpses he had taken for cover. The witch screeched, runic markings of foul magic glowing along it’s body, as the Arbitrator closed the final distance between them, and lashed out armed with nothing more than his armoured fists. The foul energies warped and caked his flesh, but with every vicious strike, the Psyker lost more and more control of it’s attacks, the warp fire all but useless as the Arbitrator caved part of the heretic’s skull in.

The markings, the foul things now glowing with crimson red energy, pulsed, nearly toppling the mountainous warrior, but he persevered, knowing the witch had crafted a deal with an abomination from the Warp. Righteous anger filled him, and it seemed as though the Emperor himself was guiding his strikes. His armour cracking from the strain, Demyan forced the witch to the ground falling upon its form in a holy fury that drove his fist into its mutating form over, and over again, ignoring the limits of his body and the wounds inflicted by the abomination’s attempted birth.

When the battle ended, two hours later, Demyan was found in kneeling prayer, his armour caked in gore and bone, the psyker no longer recognizable from the broken and crushed mass of tissue. The battle had nearly destroyed both his arms, leaving them mangled and weak, but he was praised for his valour and loyalty to Emperor in the face such trials.

His actions caught the eyes of the Inquisition, and they soon gave him Enforcer status, ushering him into service as a member of Malachi Klightus Cell Epsilon, but not before they repaired his arms with minor bionics, allowing him to once again feel the Holy Fury of crushing the Emperor’s enemies into dust with his bare hands.

Skills:

Shock Squad Training: Shortly before the beginning of the Great Purge, Demyan was selected to be part of the Shock Squads, the elite SWAT of their Precincts that focused on combat situations, and assaults on key vital points. Expected to fight and hold no matter the odds, he was put through his paces, pushing his mind and body to the edge, and then forcing him to grow past his limitations or die. The intense endless combat of the Great Purge only pushed him further into his capabilities, and Demyan has proven himself to be a vicious combatant in the most extreme of situations.

Investigation: While not his forte, nor focus, as an Arbitrator, Demyan was expected to seek out and deliver justice to the hidden enemies of the Imperium. His basic training has since been expanded upon his draft into the Inquisitional forces, and while he is far from an expert, he has proven that he understands the panicked thoughts of the desperate well, and is capable of deciphering some of the more vexing conundrums Cell Epsilon has encountered.

Close Quarters Combat: Demyan has a natural affinity for getting up close and personal with his enemies, either to blast them apart with his shotgun, or smash them apart with his fists and shock maul. He trains extensively in hand to hand combat, putting his natural size and augmented strength to excellent use. Once he closes into range of his opponent, few are prepared for the fury with which the Arbitrator strikes.

Fire Arm Training: Range remains his weakest point, as his equipment is poorly suited for long range firing, and Demyan himself cares little for dispatching his enemies from afar. When the need arises though, he is a solid shot, and reliable under pressure.

Interrogation: Getting information is easy enough, when you understand how to pressure the right points. An intimidating man by his size alone, Maihailov is trained in the art of painful persuasions, knowing the limits of the human body well, and more than capable of instilling the fear of the Emperor into his victims. His interrogations often leave the subjects broken, bloodied, or half-dead, but rarely will Demyan relent until he has taken the information he needs, and sometimes, that doesn’t even stop him.

Lex Imperia: The fundamental law of the Imperium of Man, each Arbitrator is expected to know these laws and to enforce them to the absolute capacity of their ability. Demyan reviews every night before he rests; a trait that has translated into an unfortunate inability to sleep until he has done his ‘mandatory’ reviews.

Infiltration: Very Basic levels of training have helped Demyan learn to limit his naturally crushing presence, but if he is to infiltrate, it is best for him to do so under the guise of a soldier or Arbitrator, as he barely acts an average Imperial Citizen. In stealth operations, he is skilled in takedowns, although his large frame and loud weapons make him difficult to conceal and hamper his ability to move stealthily.

Gear: Combat Shotgun, Shock Maul, Black Arbitrator Carapace Armour.

Stub Revolver - A gift from the Judge who enrolled Demyan into the academy, it is decorated beautifully in the imagery of the Imperium, and the Adeptus Arbites. The weapon is kept in exceptional condition, and Demyan usually draws it for executions, or when a certain target deserves to be put down with a little ‘something special’.

Bionics: Minor Bionics have been implanted into Demyan’s arms, focused primary on restoring function to the crippled limbs after his brutal fight with a demon-summoning witch during the Great Purge, but a secondary effect has seen his strength enhanced by a small margin, capable of leaving small dents/cracks in concrete with a full force punch.

Judge: A Cyber Mastiff from Demyan’s days on Idirov, Judge has remained his faithful companion through his years of service to the Inquisition, battling heretic, witch and mutant alike. His fur is ashen and spotted with flecks of light brown, and his biological eye is an inquisitive brown that seems just as leery of strangers as his master. Minor upgrades have enhanced his eye sight, and implants have strengthened the large dog’s already capable strength into a refined power that the noble beast exudes with every step. Judge is rarely far from Demyan, and has saved the Arbitrator numerous times from harm, just as Demyan has for it. They function incredibly well as a team, a vigilant bond between Man and Beast hell-bent on crushing the enemies of the Emperor.

[Blackrock]

Name: Severus

Age: 22

Profession: Cleric, serving under the Inquisition

Appearance: Severus is a tall man, standing just over six feet; he appears to have a solid bone structure, but is otherwise very thin. That said his hands are calloused and his wiry muscles are well-defined, suggesting that he is no stranger to the rigours of physical pursuits. The man’s face is mostly square, with a defined jawline and wide chin. However, like the rest of his body, it appears very gaunt and malnourished, as if he weighed half of what he should. He has an aquiline nose, thin lips and a pair of pale, blue eyes. Despite his young age, there are already a few lines crossing his wide forehead, giving him an air of seriousness of a far older man. Apart from his slightly arched, black eyebrows, there is no other sign of hair on his head – both beard and skull have been perfectly shaven.

Severus wears the humble robes of a priest, thick and brown, held by an unassuming belt. His feet are shod in a pair of boots, similar in colour to the rest of his attire. Around the area of his heart, he proudly displays two seals of purity, a sign of his unwavering faith. The only ornament he posses, if it can be called such, is a chain bearing the Imperial Aquila, hung from his neck.

Equipment: Severus carries a chainsword and a simple laspistol, which can often be seen hanging from his belt. As he himself has said many times, he needs nothing else to spread the Emperor’s word.

Skills: Due to his schooling, Severus is a proficient close-combat combatant. Whether cutting down the Emperor’s foes with his chainsword or using his very hands as weapons. He is also a good shot with a pistol, although he rarely has time to stand back – preferring to join his comrades in the fray. Although he does not carry one, he is perfectly capable of wielding a lasgun and any similar weapons if the situation requires it.

His greatest strength however, lies not in material weapons, but in words. Despite his age, he already has the makings of quite a capable orator. His powerful voice and deep conviction can easily move the nameless, grey masses of Imperial citizens. It seems he can feel what words to use in just the right moment, to the greatest effect.

His straightforwardness makes him ill-suited for investigative and undercover work, but he is intelligent enough to know when he should step down and allow other servants of the Emperor to do their duties. While he may not have received proper training at interrogating prisoners, he has gotten many confessions from heretics during his short time with the Inquisition.

Personality: Severus is a stern and quiet man, seemingly focused on some inner world of his. When he speaks, it is usually for a good reason, for he has no time for idle chatter while the enemies of the Imperium yet live. He is absolutely devoted to the Emperor and His Creed, regarding them as a guiding light, an unreachable ideal and something which must be guarded from heresy whatever the cost. If he sees something wrong, he does not care for ranks or titles, but will share his thoughts regardless of the repercussions. Due to that, he has no friends or social contacts to speak of – the Emperor is all he needs.

When he must speak before a crowd, his demeanour changes significantly. His words stream forth, powerful and moving – while his otherwise cold nature seems to warm up considerably. And yet, even in those moments – he is not truly one of them, he is merely an outlet through which the Emperor shares His wisdom with His children.

Biography Severus was born on the once peaceful backwater world of Ornus Prime. Unfortunately for him, the planet was a staging ground for a war between the Imperium and a foul Chaos host. Heretics, Cultists and untold horrors spawned from the Warp ravaged the world, while the stalwart defenders held their ground, praying that the Emperor would deliver them from this hellish situation.

It is in such a time that Severus was born, son to a Guardsman and a civilian woman. He knows neither their names nor even how they looked, for they were both killed while he was still a babe when their town’s defences gave in. The attack was eventually repelled, but the majority of the inhabitants had been brutally slaughtered, their corpses piled high. Amidst one such heap of corpses, a Missionary from the world of Cathegus found the young boy. After determining that there was no Chaos taint in him, he decided to bring him back to the shrine world, where he would be raised by the followers of the Forgotten Saint.

Brought up in a Schola Progenuim, under an iron regime of merciless discipline, Severus has hardly known any other life. He was tutored there by veteran members of the Imperial Guard how to fight and kill, how to worship and serve the Emperor, as well as to honour the memory of those forgotten masses who gave their lives for the Imperium. Even as a child, he showed remarkable strength and endurance, which surely meant that he would be sent to train as an elite trooper some day.

However, when he was entering his teenage years, one of the tutors at the Schola scolded him and had him punished for neglecting his nightly prayers. The following morning, the boy didn’t come out of his room, but kneeled before his bed and began praying to the Emperor. When one of the instructors came to see why he was shrinking away from his duties, he had no chance but to nod slightly and leave him be – the boy seemed to have been illuminated by some inner light.

Severus remained like this for seven days straight, not breaking his prayer. He neither ate, nor drank; the cracked lips continued uttering the words. The astounded instructors watched on, especially the one who had questioned his faith. On the beginning of the eighth day, the weakened Severus rose up, dehydrated and delirious. He looked at the crowd which had gathered around him and smiled, after which he fainted. The tutor which had punished him, a grizzled veteran, broke down and began crying, while the rest of them quickly saw to it that the boy was nourished back to health. This is when he earned his first purity seal, a great honour especially at such a tender age.

After that happening, his life continued as normal – each day spent in vigorous training and improvement of the self. However, something at the core of Severus had changed forever – visibly the boy seemed much like normal, if slightly thin due to his ordeal. But as the years went on, he grew more and more reclusive, often spending long time in silent prayer, if his duties would allow him to. He ate little, frequently spending days on end with only water, if even that. When questioned about it, he simply answered “The Emperor is all I need.”

At the age of sixteen, it was clear that he was ill-suited for becoming a soldier as his superiors had at first envisioned. Instead, local members of the Ecclesiarchy had already heard of the boy’s earlier feat, so they gladly took him in and began his schooling as a priest in earnest. During that time he proved to be a stalwart defender of the Imperium and its faith, in all situations. Even older veterans of many campaigns had to nod their head approvingly, for the boy’s conviction was very strong.

During those five or so years spent in the Adeptus Ministorum, he earned another purity seal – yet another mark of his faith. He proved to be a capable and resilient student, enduring whatever hardships were brought down upon him and quickly soaking up any new knowledge. At the age of twenty, he had already become a respected young man amongst those around him, even if he never made any true friends.

When the Inquisition turned to the Ecclesiarchy to supplement them with promising Acolytes, Severus was one of the first to be sent. Like any other duty, he took it on solemnly – while his superiors hoped that he would do many great things. After a few months of simple missions and evaluations, he was assigned to the Epsilon cell, under the young and promising Inquisitor Malachi Klightus.

[SahuginDra]

Name: Uriah Hex
Age: -- (47)
Race: Human.Psyker
Gender: Male
Position: Sanctioned Psyker - Telepath

Physical Description:

His skin is as bare as his mind and just as ruined. His left ear is bulbous from trauma and seems to leap-frog itself with errant tumorous growths. The skin of his neck hangs loose like a second chin, but is betrayed by the self-inflicted claw marks that cover it. His skull is criss-crossed with jagged marks and a few small craters that bleed into rough, but sparse augmetics. His lips are perforated with teeth marks that have crudely healed over. His nose is bent slightly to the left to abridge what was once an aquiline shape. His eyes are naturally dark grey, but their colour seems to boil when they turned on something in hate.

Though once standing proud and tall, his abilities and forgotten past have rendered his back and spine into a twisted mess of muscle and bone. Hunched, he has found himself with the constant companion of his staff. Around four feet in length and made of gnarled oak, the only thing that adorns its face is the eye of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica.

The rest of his body is as scarred and weak as those parts already described. A few healed perforations in his chest leave him wary around the merciful. Lacerations on his heels means he never turns his back and flees. Various bullet marks cover his torso and thighs. Even his jaw is a bit arthritic. His Sanctioning Mark appears on his upper right shoulder.

An average day in the field finds the old man wearing a tattered brown robe over some worn dark pants and a pair of heavy work boots. He has been known to shroud himself and his deformities in his hood or beneath a wide-brimmed hat that matches his robes both in their abused quality and coloring. His staff is obviously prominent amongst his belongings, but his hunched back and hard eyes are more likely to collect the attention of any passerby.

Psychological Description:

His eyes drift shut and the soft whispers begin. Bordering just on the edge of hearing, the smooth sounds cause the hairs on the back of Uriah's neck to stir to attention. What are they saying? What do they ever say? Eyes closed he tries to concentrate on the inflections and piece together some fragment of Gothic, but nothing comes. Shadows whip across his closed eyes, dancing and twirling with arms outstretched. Peace settles for a moment on his soul, until the chanting just trips the threshold of consciousness, sparking a spasm of revulsion and a jolted awakening.

The same dream when either awake or asleep, he curses; the only consolation of time is that it becomes more infrequent the more he dives into the minds of others. A consequence of his telepathy, he's been picking up the thoughts and memories of those he taps into. Warp-stirring their mind to allow him a glance, he equally welcomes the escape from his own mind as much as he's horrified of what things he'll take out or put in. Is some small part of the chanting moving from his mind to his victim's and is that why it is getting smaller? The weight on his consciousness balances precariously with his desire to see the "song" gone from him wholly.

As a consequences of his psychic delving and short but troubled past, Uriah is incredibly sarcastic and pessimistic about the future of Humanity. Though he believes that Emperor and his psychically charged hand can set things right, he doubts a great awakening will happen any time soon; too many pilfered beliefs have made him anything other than skeptical. Also as a result of these probes he has been known to briefly take on one or more personality traits of his targets, though he usually does his best to extinguish them once he notices, but they can linger for some time. He's also willing to do much of anything to survive, especially being mind-cleansed again. Even for that though he's not enthusiastic about learning of his past-self and what might of happened to him. On the whole he is confident about his witching, but doesn't want to actively learn more about it. He believes that anyone's beliefs can be changed with enough willpower because he has done it. He is highly intelligent, but only seems to show it off when correcting someone else.

Psychic Description:

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Skills:

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Equipment:

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History:

-- Mind-cleansed --

Aroused from dreams of dark chanting, Uriah was quickly forced to bare his soul and what little remained of his mind to his Inquisitorial captors. For days after he woke he was pressed on every matter of identity and memory. Names and places were thrown at him as if his cell were a history potluck thrown for his benefit and everyone was trying to get the host to shit himself with violent recollection. It never happened though. Whoever had cleansed his mind had been thorough; he could feel the clean edges inside his skull as easily as he could a newly spun bowl.

The only problem was that he could feel both the inside and outside and could easily tell there were some gaps in the workings; hidden little gems of information whose unearthing could just as easily shatter the ware as unlock more space and usefulness. Not that he hardly had any time to try.

Following the barrage of possible selves, he was briefly given something to eat and period to breathe in deeply and relax. It was brief. Over the next several hours several dozen people were marched into his cell. A small handful of them continued in the vein of his captors and asked him hard and probing questions. During this time he felt himself spinning lies without thinking about it even as he stared hard set into his partner's eyes, scaring them. Worse than these lots though were the numerous psychic activities he was forced to take part in.

While many of his psychic partners forced themselves on him to force him to defend himself in varied and creative ways, the hardest came last. Electrically prodded into submission, he was forced to probe their addled minds. Abandoning his aching body for a home in their consciousness, he was forced to deal with the possibilities of freedom from himself as well as the strangeness of the minds of others. Both concepts worried his fresh mind, but the Warp touched him most deeply even as he used its power on others. The ease at which he manipulated the malevolent force worried him even as he used it to beg and then command others to answer the questions he and his captors asked of them. During this time he actively pondered how easily it could affect him without his noticing.

After time immemorial, Uriah was eventually freed from his cell. Guided in spiritual matters by a harsh Soritas mother, he spent a further few days in abject awe before the Emperor and his dominion as the Imperium's tale was spun back to him in repetition-defined clarity. Only the pebble of faith deep within his chest (and the numerous guards that stayed with him) kept him from killing himself or the old harpy that laid out the tenants of the Imperial Cult for him.

Once he was judged of sound mind, body and soul was the then nameless wretch given his designation and caretaker. Though he could not identify how he could have possibly identified him as anything other than mad and crippled, he did not know. Even so he took to his new name Uriah as quickly as he was carted away by a youngish Inquisitor to parts unknown.

[Christoph]

http://www.footstepsofghosts.com/t3928-eyes-in-the-darkness-the-fate-of-ataraxis#93918

The IC thread is up! Make whatever last touches you need to make for your character and go at it. I figure the more socially-oriented characters could question the Priest while the others root around for clues outside. I'll let you guys figure it out amongst yourselves.

[ArcturusV]

New character, because the Boss doesn't want my previous one:



Name: Kelran Malloreus

Age: 25

Profession: Initiate to the Jucan Order (Sanctioned Assassination Service)

Appearance: When one thinks of an Assassin, it is usually some lithe, small figure, caressing a blade, or staring down the sights of a long rifle, a wisp of a thing that looks as though the smallest blow could shatter them. Kelran, does not fit that mold. Standing at a respectable 5'9", and a good 150 lbs, no one would think of him as some slinking coward huddled in a corner waiting to strike. If not for his unnaturally pale, white smooth skin, deep blue eyes, and bright red hair, he might very well appear to be one of the faceless untold billions of mankind.
Kelran keeps himself well groomed. His hair neatly trimmed and slicked back at almost all times, clean shaven face. He seems to have an obsession with cleanliness that is apparent in his dress and appearance. He almost always has a clean set of clothing on hand, changing as soon as he can when things start to get messy. His body is clean, usually smelling of soap.
Generally there is only one thing which Kelran always is seen in, and that is the cameleoline cloak he received on his entrance into the order. Otherwise, he dresses for utility, comfort, and stealth. His clothing is usually well fit, custom tailored for him so as not to be problematic during missions. It is truly the only real luxury, such as it is, that he indulges in. As well he typically wears a harness that crosses his chest, hips, and thighs, which secures his weapons and tools for easy carrying and minimal noise.

Equipment: The following are the tools of Kelran, and almost always found upon him. Additional items are of course sometimes assigned to him based on the mission parameters, but the following are his personal possessions.

Solaris-Tamor .308 Battle Rifle: A finely crafted and ancient firearm that was produced on Corrinth, and highly valued by citizens of Vont. The Solaris-Tamor is a long rifle, firing solid slug ammunition accurately and at high velocity. Well known for quality, despite it's age the rifle is still a remarkable piece. It was produced for long range sniper work, fitted with a silencer and telescopic sight. It's a simple semi-automatic rifle with a 10 shot clip, known for it's distinctive metallic pop when the clip is ejected. While other assassins might consider the simplistic Solaris-Tamor backwards and crude, it's proven it's worth in the field, it's simple design being highly reliable and rugged, almost impossible to jam in even the worst circumstances. Kelran's was awarded to him on his completion of the Rites of Initiation.

Thresher Patterned Las Carbine: Sometimes, a kill just isn't quite as clean as Kelran could have wished. When the hordes close in, and he needs some mid ranged firepower, it's this weapon he reaches for. In most ways, it's unremarkable, performing well within standard parameters for a Las Weapon. The only thing that sets it apart from other las carbines is the man who wields it, and the distinct lack of imperial markings upon it. Instead it's barrel and grip are decorated in embossed sheafs of wheat spiraling around one another.

Thresher Pattern Holdout Pistol: So named because it was issued as the last line of defense, when all else failed. From the same manufactoriums on Corrinth which produced his carbine, it is similarly decorated, and similarly standardized for it's kind. In centuries past it was seen as a desperation weapon, when you were alone and cornered, with the last shot meant for yourself. Kelran uses it when things get close and uncomfortable, preferring his honed talents with a pistol in close quarters than depending on blades as others might.

Pashyang Hellfire Pistol: A hand held flamer which was also shipped in from the weapons facotries of Corrinth. The Pashyang was considered an odd choice for as assassin trained in the Jucan style, often preferring the pinpoint accuracy of a rifle to the widespread devastation of a flame. Kelran however insisted upon it, after witnessing it's effectiveness in battle, particularly in the close quarters of cities and caves. Kelran uses it in concert with his Thresher Pattern Pistol, preferring the mixture of cold las precision and flaming area denial.

Desperation Blade: A short dagger issued to applicants of the Jucan Order. The trials of initiation are harrowing, the blade is given for them to take their own life, should it be necessary. Despite it's name, it is never taught to be used as a last line of defense, though occasionally it is used as such by hard headed assassins. Rather it is always meant to take the life of the owner when their fate is finally sealed. Kelran's has never tasted bood. It is seen as a sacred badge of office for Assassins of the Jucan Order, and they would never disrespect it by using the blade for anything other than bloodletting, either their own or that of the enemy. Seeing a Desperation Blade used for crude acts, such as a cutting tool, shaving, etc, is considered a grave insult.

Cameleoline Cloak: An uncommon piece of adaptive camouflage technology. By means quite unknown to Kelran, the cloak somehow seems to sense his surroundings, and naturally shift in color and patterns to help him blend in. It's been an invaluable tool in his missions, and something he seldom ever leaves behind, and then only by direct order of his superiors. How or why he came across this piece of gear is a story he never shares, but it seems to be related to a mission he took soon after becoming an initiate to the Jucan Order of Assassins.

Skills, Talents, and Training:

Initiate to the Jucan Order of Assassins: Kelran has been accepted, and trained in the arts of this order, though he seems to truly know very little about it when questioned. He has no idea who his commanders are within the Order. Or even if the Order is properly ordained by the Officio Assassinorium. What he does know, is the skills that they value in their agents and his training. Over the course of his service to the Inquisition, he has had very little contact with his order, or at least sources claiming to be from his order, he is never truly certain.

The Jucan Order, according to what little mythos Kelran knows about the order, supposedly arose during the Dark Age of Technology on the planet Vont in the Ataraxis Sector. Hunters who thrived on the edge of the wilderness banded together, honing their skills and formalizing their traditions as they hunted down the mutants, witches, and chaos which plagued Vont during this time, when mutation and sorcery grew unchecked by the measures later instilled in Imperial Law. In time, the purge was successful, and the Jucan Order became a shadow authority on Vont, refusing to take part in the brewing politics, but vigilant against the corruption of mutation and witchcraft, content to remain hidden in the wilderness until the folly of man became unbearable. When the Great Crusade, and the Master of Mankind came to Vont, the Jucan Order was quick to join in the Great Crusade, lending their skills to the war when they came across sorcerous powers. Whether any of this is actually true, is something that Kelran often questions as he comes to understand more of the Imperium.

Regardless, they trained well. Members of the Jucan Order are trained in the traditions of the hunters of Vont. Stalking prey for days, weeks if necessary over varied terrains, waiting until they can deliver the perfect kill shot, never rushing, never hurried. And when all else fails, speed and superior firepower to overwhelm and shock the enemy to open the path to escape or your target. Thus all members of the Jucan Order are trained in both long range precision weapons, and short ranged weaponry, favoring volume of fire over individual powerful shots. Jucan Assassins are expected to know a variety of skills in order to find their perfect shots, climbing sheer obstacles, slinking through filth that most couldn't even imagine, going for days without food as needed. Many assassins are rumored to have become obsessive about these shots, sometimes spending years stalking a target, never happy with the openings they receive, knowing there could be better. Jucan Assassins are trained to kill themselves, rather than succumb to death, or the possibility of capture. However, they are not Death Seekers, and above all, if possible, they are expected to return after the kill.

As part of that doctrine of speed and sudden firepower, Kelran has trained himself to be ambidextrous, dual wielding his pistols to devastating effect when the shit hits the fan. Though not something he looks forward to, he practices constantly to make sure that when the time comes, his trigger fingers aren't too slow.

His eye sight and hearing are also above the human norm. While some think this is the result of cybernetics, or perhaps some biological or chemical treatment, in truth it comes from a much simpler practice, exercises and techniques perfected by his order in millenniums long forgotten. Kelran spends an hour a day going through these ancient rites, keeping his senses fully opened.

Personality: What does one expect when they hear a man is an assassin, trained to hunt down strangers and kill them for profit, or in Kelran's case, orders passed down from figures he doesn't even know? Kelran hears, quite often, that he is not quite what people expect, not the brooding figure lusting for blood, or the cold professional almost inhuman person. In fact Kelran is quite human. He's known to enjoy games of chance, though he has no particular skill at them. He eats, drinks, laughs, trades stories (Most of which are made up, he never speaks of past missions, though he often pretends they are past missions or those of his mentors and forefathers). He seems open and honest, willing to speak frankly to whoever addresses him, but he has a habit of skirting serious issues, particularly about his past. When he's on the hunt he proves to be very focused, rarely flinching away from the bloodshed or other unpleasantness that faces him. He becomes obsessed, often taking seemingly unnecessary risks in order to pursue the ideals of his art.

History: Born in the rugged mountains of Vont, Kelran was raised in simple, rustic surroundings. Though he never speaks of his family, it is not through any particular horror, disgrace, or difficulty that comes from his family. They were, simple folk. Living a life in the Taln mountains, following the migration of the Vont Red-Tailed Spire Crawlers, part of a small clan which hunted down the massive beasts, carving them up both to feed themselves, and the unseen masses on faraway worlds, not to mention providing them with the skins, bones, and organs which often are valued on the markets. Kelran's father was one of the many Renders, not taking part in the long, arduous hunt, but tearing apart the beasts into useable parcels, his mother an herbalist. Neither was very prestigious or prominent, hardly the stock of Epic Tales, which is one of the many reasons he never speaks of them.

Kelran grew a little faster, and a little sharper than most of the other children of his age. This separated him out for the life of Hunter, rather than a lowly Render, or other menial job. A position he took with a fair amount of pride, and if he is honest, a bit of an ego trip over his no-longer peers. He became known for his cocky attitude, flaunting his successes, such as they were during that time, often taking reckless actions in order to "Give himself a challenge". Tales of his, frankly reckless and foolish endeavors spread outside of the tribe. From the tale of his unauthorized solo hunt of a wild short haired grox (He seldom mentions his rescuers who came after him, and the injuries they sustained trying to save him), or the time he counted coup against a two male Spire Crawlers in the middle of their mating attraction rituals. But despite the stupidity of some of these stunts, he somehow managed to come out of it unscathed, though the same couldn't be said for his fellow Hunters or well meaning tribesmen who were drawn into the escapades.

Every 10 years, as it happens, a representative of the Jucan Order visits their tribe, to gather up Applicants for the ancient order of assassins. It is their tithe in return for the "Protection" the Order supposedly provides them against the forces of chaos. They demand the best of the Hunters, saying that only those who are the most highly talented could possibly survive the trials of initiation. Usually, they receive the worst. Troublemakers, inept Hunters, and others that the tribe wished to be rid of. Kelran's dangerous attitude and reckless stunts had him lumped in with that lot without a second thought. He was never told that this was the reason, only that it was exactly as the representative wished, he was the best, so he was sent. He did think it was curious though that several others he thought of as being particularly inept were also sent. But he never did pay too much attention to those lesser Hunters. Perhaps they had some spark that he never noticed? Sure he was the best, so things had to be as he was told.

His rite of initiation was a rude awakening. He was taken to a far end of the planet, beyond any territory of the Red-Tailed Spine Crawlers, and thus the terrain he was familiar with. A small city was there, though to Kelran's eyes, accustomed only to a few ramshackle structures established near common hunting grounds, it was an awe inspiring spectacle. Many kids, from many tribes and villages he had never heard of were gathered there. When he was issued his Desperation Blade, he didn't understand the importance. The concept of killing himself, of facing such a fate that gutting himself would be preferable to what he faced... was so far beyond the ken of the brash young Hunter. That innocence didn't last for long.

They were drilled for three days, given their equipment, trained in its use. It was here that Kelran first was familiarized and issued his las weaponry, weapons he still carries and uses to this day. Details of their Mission, into that huge (though not at all huge as he later found out as he experienced other imperial cities, in fact little more than a hamlet) compound, to eliminate a target. They were told almost nothing about the inhabitants, or their target beyond how to recognize her. The one who killed her, and escaped, would be brought into the order as an Initiate. All others would be "Dealt With". Kelran had no idea what that meant at the time. Nor did he imagine he might fail.

He soon found out that hunting Men, was much, much different from hunting a beast. The dangers of a beast were obvious. It's patterns and thoughts easily discerned. For days he stalked around the compound, observing the habits of these strange people. Hunters, young and older went in. He watched the assassins, the mistakes they made. It was the first time he truly saw the brutality of war and death. The first time he saw one of the Applicants caught in a blast from a flamer, running around, screaming as he burned to death, he understood the Desperation Blade and fully appreciated it. Several were captured, the guardsmen were more alert as Kelran could only imagine they spilled details of their mission under torture. The public display of their suffering was more than enough for him to know he rather die than be taken.

Three weeks, it took three weeks. He knew the men from the Jucan Order were still watching. Several had tried to run as they witnessed the horrors inflicted upon their fellow applicants. Without a noise, he'd watch them jerk, fall to the ground, never to rise again. No escape, the only way out was to succeed, or die. He had started to slowly recognize the similarities between the beasts and man. Reasons were different, but so many of the base needs existed. Patterns developed in the behavior of men. Finally he managed to find his opening. He hardly remembers anything of the desperate flight, diving for cover, sprinting quickly and silently through gaps he thought were so narrow that everyone MUST have seen him. Somehow he made it. He can remember clearly setting up his shot, having climbed up to the roof of some block hab, waiting there in the hot sun for three hours, the only company the sweat and miserable mosquitoes. But it finally came, a clear shot, the woman unarmored, slipping into her personal quarters. Vanity. Just like the shiny scaled Spine Crawlers, she chose the highest room, with the best view. The las carbine cracked, the shot burned through the window as though it wasn't even there, the beam of light hit a perfect heart shot. Open casket for that officer, was the last thought he had about the kill.

The flight out of the compound is still a blur to him. He knows only what he was told by his mentor later. He killed three guardsmen who were in his way. He took several wounds on his way out. The first time in his life he had been injured. Apparently a frag grenade partially caught him, as well as several shots. He spent 2 months hospitalized afterwards, but he was informed he was now an Initiate in the Jucan Order.

The next three years of his life were spent cloistered away in the mountain retreats of the Jucan Order, nomads traveling between five different locations in remote reaches. Each time he arrived at one, his old Mentor would bid him farewell, and a new Mentor would be assigned to him until they arrived at the next retreat. Lore about the order was given, as well as a more general education about the Imperium as a whole, supplementing a woefully inadequate education from his tribe. Practical skills were drilled into him constantly, working 20 hour days. Marksmanship, stealth, target recognition, and the traditions of the order. It was a harsh education that reinforced the humility he was taught during his Initiation.

His missions after he completed his Initiate Training, well, just ask him. He'll tell you all about them. Of course, most should be taken with a grain of salt, as he has been caught "embellishing" from time to time. The only one he never does lie about, or even recounted except to his Mentors in the Order, and official agents of the Holy Inquisition when directly questioned, was the mission which resulted in his acquirement of his cloak. It was before he was recognized and tapped as an asset for the Inquisition. It involved a rogue member of the order, who was suspected of teaching the skills, rites, and methods of the Order to an outsider. To this day Kelran has no idea if the charge was true. The mission was a year long game, with each of them trying to evade and counter the other across the surface of Icalias. In the end, it was Fortune that turned the tide of the battle. The elder, and more experienced assassin became too hasty in his need to end it. He made the first mistake, taking a dangerous perch to deliver the kill shot against Kelran. Before he could fire, his perch gave way, he fell badly on his side, breaking an arm and a leg. Before Kelran could kill him, he used his Desperation Blade for its intended purpose. Kelran brought the body back, and was given the elder assassin's cloak.

((Sometime at some point was recruited for some Inquisitorial Wet Work. Survived and Succeeded. Blah, blah, blah, Inquisitor New Guy kept him around for whatever reason. Mr. Christoph doesn't really care about it and I don't feel like typing up a bunch of Inquisitorial Missions.))

[Blackrock]

Was just gonna say guys, for the moment for those of us that are in the church proper - I think it would be more fitting if Demyan and Hastus just continued their exchange without my character stepping in. The important question has been asked and I can run a swift recount of the situation later on, from my own character's POV.

So yeah, I'd say just keep the pace going.

[Christoph]

I think the others may be waiting for you, Blackrock. It's probably as good a time as any to hop in and post again. Let me know if that works.

[Blackrock]

My hands are tied behind my back at the moment, let me wrap this week up. I should have something up during the weekend. Sorry for the wait, but Uni doesn't care about free time. :/

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