[DH1e] The Damocles Contingency (Character/Data)

[Mazer Rackham]

+ The RPG Nook Presents +

++ THE DAMOCLES CONTINGENCY ++

 

+ CHARACTER AND DATA THREAD +

"When things go wrong, when plans go awry, then it becomes Exitus Acta Probat. Mostly Exitus."

- Codename 'Voyager' to a Cell recruit.

+DRAMATIS PERSONAE +

 

CELL DESIGNATION: VIRTUE

• Caleb Augustus Falke (AT)
• Reynard, of the 'De Carabas' Family (Lysimachus).
• Tech-Sentinel Bardas (Trokair)
• Jericus Nicios (Lord Ikka)
• Garvek 'Stimms' Halsome (Beren) (Retired)
• Kerr Restal (Machine God)
• The Penitent (Necronaut)
• Nico Hivmund (Kelborn) (Undeployed)
• Matthias 'Cutter' Beckett (Ancient Sobek)

 

+OTHER NPC/PERSONAE SUPPLEMENTIS +

• =][CLASSIFIED][= Codename 'Viceroy'
• Operations controller, Codename 'Verdict'
• Transport controller, Codename 'Voyager' (DECEASED)
• Throne Agent Codename 'Vigilance'
• Throne Agent Codename 'Vendetta'
• Throne Agent Codename 'Valkyrie' (DECEASED)

 

+LOCATION OF UNDERTAKING +

Damocles Hive Primus (ACTIVE)

Damocles Hive Secundus (DESTROYED)

Damocles Hive Tertius (DESTROYED)

 

Campaign Notes:

Just a few bits and pieces.

1. This is expected to be a narrative, investigation heavy campaign, with moments of frightening, and deadly combat. Plan accordingly.
2. The GM can, will, and should change, alter, ignore or substitute any rule, roll or instruction in the DH1e Core Rulebook, so that it serves the Players and the Story better, and to make things easier on himself.
3. All Characters are awarded 200 bonus xp to be built. They should be built from Rank 1 upwards, to (essentially) Rank 3. The 200xp does not count towards Income.
4. When Psykers roll 'Perils of the Warp' the GM will roll for the result on the table (unless you're Sanctioned), so as to moderate the result if required.
5. This campaign, much like DW: Space Hulk is big boy trousers/big girl jodhpurs rules.
6. Standard play does not make use of DW/OW unlimited ammunition. Once it's gone, it's gone.
7. Manufacture Qualities (Best, Good, Common etc), will have an effect in-game. If your armour or equipment sustains heavy damage, and is not repaired, it will downgrade a step until it becomes 'Useless' and only covers your bare essentials. (NOTE: This is an optional rule, and I'll see how it goes).
8. PC's wishing to acquire any Training, (Bolt) or (Power) will require someone to teach them. Talents involving SP/Las/Chain etc are fairly Monkiegh See-Monkeigh Do, so I don't have a problem with that, since the PC's are around the stuff a lot.

 

Conditions of Play:

Once the Deadline Clock starts, you will be expected to perform all three actions below at least once in each 24 hour period.

1. Eat something
2. Drink a beverage which is not an intoxicant (you may, it WILL count, but bear in mind the effects)
3. Rest for at least 1 hour (even on the ground)

The facilities to do all of this are in the Hive, or can be acquired. No loading up with doubles in a single period, they don't stack and will be discounted. You will all be counted as rested and refreshed for purposes of recommencing the game. You are not Space Marines, this is Fallout 4 on Survival Mode. Hard action and investigations take time, and are tiring. If you go more than 24 hours without completing the list, I will consider penalties (I will apply and moderate these).

You have time, use your time.

 

Additional Training/Bonus Talents:

• All PC's will Acquire Sound Constitution (x 1) on Rank Up. This will not affect purchases from Advance Tables, allowing the Talent to be taken several times as normal. This rule is retroactively applied (ie, if you start at R3, you immediately gain 3 Wounds).

 

This post will evolve as time goes on, and you should check it now and then to refresh your understanding.

Edited March 15, 2023 by Mazer Rackham
Updates

[A.T.]

Caleb Augustus Falke  'Falk' - Imperial (Shrine) World / Arbitrator
"A suspicious mind is a healthy mind.”

Born to the Imperial shrine world of Valon Urr, Falk served the Emperor in youth as an aid to the scriveners of the collection plate tithes in his sector. Instilled with the rule of absolute obedience and deference to the Ecclesiarchy since birth he refused to turn a blind eye to irregularities in the takings and at length stood before the Imperial Magistrate with irrefutable proof of that most terrible of heresy - theft of the Emperors due.

Now under the auspices of the administratum Falk was reassigned, his true purpose hidden from the servants of the Ecclesiarchy, to walk amongst all aspects of society from the drudging classes to the supine largely unseen and unheralded, watching for any sign of corruption in the Emperors message. It was a path that would ultimately lead to evidence of something far more sinister than a priest lining their pockets, and one that would bring the eye of the Inquisition upon him.

Little about Falks public demeanor suggests his rank or role, save perhaps his piercing gaze and steady temperament. His weather beaten flak-coat and large build suggest that he is a labourer yet beneath his posture and faded but immaculate clothing mark out one with a trade and higher bearing.

 

Caleb Augustus Falke  'Falk'
Imperial World / Arbitrator (rank 2 - enforcer)
Well-built (1.9m, 90kg), 32 years old
Divination: "A suspicious mind is a healthy mind"
 

Weapon Skill : 35
Ballistic Skill : 34
Strength : 33
Toughtness : 30
Agility : 32
Intelligence : 38 +
Perception : 42
Willpower : 36
Fellowship : 35

Fate: 2 / 2
Wounds: 14 / 14
XP: 1000 (spent) / 0 (unspent)
Armour: Head(3), Body(4), Right Arm(3), Left Arm(3), Right Leg(3), Left Leg(3)
 

Weapon Talents: Basic Weapons Training (SP), Melee Weapon Training (Primitive)

General Talents: Light Sleeper, Rapid Reload, Quick Draw, Sound Constitution (x1)

Skills: Awareness, Common Lore(Adeptus Arbites), Common Lore(Imperium), Common Lore(Underworld), Inquiry +10, Literacy, Scrutiny, Security, Speak Language(Low Gothic), Tracking

Basic Skills: Common Lore(Imperial Creed), Common Lore(War), Speak Language (High Gothic)

Blessed Ignorance: Your wise blindness imposes a –5 penalty on Forbidden Lore (Int) Tests.

Ranged Weapons: Short-barrel Pump-Action Shotgun(32 shells)
Melee Weapons: Hardened gloves (brass knuckles), Knife
Armour: Mesh vest, Flak cloak, Uniform (Good Quality Clothing)
Gear: 3 doses of stimm, Injector, Arbitrator ID, Chrono, Pack of lho-sticks, Filtration plugs, Multikey, Lamp-pack with clip
Cash: 24 throne gelt

Edited July 30, 2022 by A.T.

[Lysimachus]

Reynard

Born in the depths of Cal Ferrina's Hive Primus, the boy named Reynard was raised on stories of the man he believed to be his father, a man known only as De Carabas - a swindler, thief and scoundrel infamous across the Havilar Sector. Now in his mid-twenties, Reynard has made himself into the kind of son of whom such a father could be proud. He is devious, shrewd, smooth-talking and quick-witted, a skilled trickster and gambler, a maker of many bargains and a man owed favours in places high and low.

 

In appearance Reynard claims to take after his mother, with straight dark hair and bright blue eyes. However, he also asserts that the faintly dusky tone of his skin is proof of the mixing of her Hive-bred paleness with the famously dark complexion of his absent father. Reynard is handsome, of above average height, though slender, with an easy smile and a soft, soothing, convincing voice.

 

He typically wears plain, if elegantly cut, clothes of good quality, covered by a long, dark coat. This garment has a multitude of hidden pockets, within which he conceals all manner of weapons, tools and trade goods, items both prosaic and esoteric. Though he would always prefer to talk his way out of trouble, his quick eyes and hands make him an asset if violence becomes necessary.

 

Reynard's… less than strict… views regarding property ownership, along with his lack of respect for most of the laws that govern civilised life, have on several occasions placed him in opposition to those who keep the Emperor's Peace. Thus far he has escaped serious punishment, whether by means of persuasion, bribery or simple abscondment… but the Most Holy Inquisition cannot be so easily avoided.

 

 

 

Characteristics:

WS20 +12 = 32,
BS20 +4, Rerolled, +16 = 36 (41)
S20+6 = 26
T15 +7 = 22 (24)
Ag20 +20(!) = 40 (45)
Int20 +17 = 37
Per20 +8 = 28
Wp20 +5 = 25
Fel25 +15 = 40 (45)

Height: 1.82m
Weight: 64kg

Wounds: d5(3) +8 = 11 +1 +3 =12
FP: d10(9) = 3
Move: 4/8/12/24

Edit: forgot Imperial Divination, rolled 44: T +2, Wounds +1

Skills:
Awareness, Blather, Common Lore: Imperium, Deceive, Dodge, Speak Cal Ferrinan Hive Dialect, Speak Low Gothic

Talents:
Ambidextrous, Melee Weapon Training (Primitive), Pistol Training (Las), Basic Weapon Training (SP)

Starting Gear:
Laspistol + 1 Clip, Pair of Knives, Shotgun (sawn-off) and 12 shells, good quality clothes.

Starting XP: 1000
Spends:
Dreg (0-499)
+5BS (now 41) 100
+5Ag (now 45) 100
+5Fel (now 45) 100
Awareness+10 100
Barter 100

Outcast (500-999)
Charm 100
Inquiry 100
Peer (Underworld) 100
Quick Draw 100
Sleight of Hand 100

Starting Wealth:
Scum: 10+2(d5) = 12.
+2 Months Income (1 month per 400XP spent?)
Month 1: 20 + (d10: 4) Scam: 15 + 28(Fel4x(d10:7)
Month 2: 20 + (d10: 7) Steal: 15 + 32(Ag4x(d10:8)
Total Starting Wealth: 142 Thrones.

Starting Purchases:
Long frock coat/trenchcoat/duster with ablative padding and lots of pockets! (Chain Coat and Backpack) 50+10
Other useful bits and pieces:
Hotshot Charge 15
Torch (Glow Globe) 15
Ration Pack 10
Lho-sticks 10
Rotgut Booze 10
Total: 120 spent, 22 Thrones remaining.
 

 

Edited January 8 by Lysimachus

[Trokair]

Bardas

Born into a family clan of prospector miners on a lesser moon under the aegis of Elysium Forgeworld prospects for Bardas were grim. Official Adeptus Mecanicus mining operations had seized several centuries earlier due to almost all mineral resources having been exhausted, and the twiddling prospector clans unearthed what little was left and periodically traded it to the Elysium forgeworld for enough supplies to last another decade and the next scheduled visit by Elysium officials. Seeing that their home was all but dead several clans banded together and petitioned the Elysium Officials to take them to a new world. This was granted, in part. The youngsters were taken for training in the priesthood, including seven year old Bardas.

His career from that point was uneventful but always satisfactory for his station. Showing devotion and skill in whatever task he was set to Bardas was eventually stationed as a warden/shrine sentry at the Weather/Orbital and Deepspace  Observation and Monitoring Shrine 21354 on the world of Damocles. The station was situated high in the mountains and far from settlements, one of many that dotted the landscape if one knew where to look. Due to its remote location it was unfeasible to have servitors man and maintain the shrine and instead a single adepts like Bardas were stationed there instead.

Five months ago bandit/raiders plundered the shrine believing it to hold supplies and tech that they could use or trade. They struck the main shrine bunker while Bardas was attending to one of the sensor arrays further up the mountain. By the time he returned the defilers had left, leaving the inside of the shrine bunker a burned out wreck.

Bereft of the duty he had fulfilled for decades, and unable to contact his superiors Bardas begun the long trek down from the mountains and towards Hive Primus. Tracking the raiders along the way. Bardas dose not know the exact number of the bandits, or if they took anything from the shire before they destroyed it, but he will find them all in time and fulfil his duty to the Omnissiah.

In appearance Bardas is a slender figure, wrapped in hardy cloth and cloak that may once have been red or orange. His face is hooded and covered by the same cloth, with only the goggles showing where he was facing. A staff in one hand and a lasgun strapped over one shoulder he had arrived in the Hive some days ago.

No one had yet heard him speak, but the locals will have seen him seek out people and places know to deal in information during the day.  Each evening he takes shelter underneath a power conduit junction near the market plaza, and for a handful of Thrones will repair simple tech.

Stats

Spoiler

All in Spreadsheet: https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1arqsA_d2aZZmpADBmzzJL9MjIwhBHxop/edit#gid=674219901

 

 

Edited August 6, 2022 by Trokair

[Mazer Rackham]

=][= CLASSIFIED =][=

"The Mutant bears his sin for all to see, the Heretic hides it in his soul."

+ Access Database//Subjunct:Tertio.rec/NULL/Alpha|C3|.OPEN +

+ Remain at Terminal +

 

Primus Throne Agent: [Codename] Verdict

Reports to: [REDACTED]

Function: Executor

Languages: High Gothic, Low Gothic, Battle Sign (All), Eldar (Speak)

Ordo Affiliation: Hereticus (Current), Xenos (Former).

Training: [CLASSIFIED]

Templum Aspirant: [CLASSIFIED]

 

Retained under Project Victory.

 

+Everything comes to he who waits. Sometimes; depending on range, wind, and gravity, the wait isn't very long..."

- Verdict.

Edited March 3, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Lord_Ikka]

Jericus Nicios-  Imperial Psyker

Nicios was born on an Agri-World, backwater and near-forgotten by the Imperium. His early years were filled with the constant dullness and drudgery of serfdom, with only the rare harvest-ship landings breaking up the monotony of life. The dullness left when he began to hear the whispers of his fellow serfs' thoughts in his mind. As they grew louder and louder, Nixios did what only a true servant of the Emperor would; he turned himself in to the local Adeptus to await judgement. 

Nicios was soon given to the Black Ships, to be tested and tried by the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. His body was scourged and scoured, marked with hexagrammatic brands on his torso and the ceremonial removal of his left pinky finger. Bound to the Throne by the Sanctioning rituals, Nicios felt his true purpose burned into his mind; He would hunt down those that courted the darkness of the Warp without seeking the Emperor's blessing, those that dabbled in sorcery and witchcraft. He would use the telepathic gifts that the Emperor blessed him with to hunt down the rogue psyker and hedge-sorcerer. Soon after his sanctioning Nicios was moved to an Ordos training facility, where he spent the next ten years learning to control his powers and hunt his own kind.

A small, slight man, Nicios is physically unimpressive. His rasping voice, forever changed by endless screaming in the Black Ship, is both quiet and unnerving to those first hearing it. A grey flak coat, Administratum Investigatus issue, covers his slim body and a hood cloaks his bald head. Like the Investigatus minor inspector his clothes proclaim him to be, Nicios is armed with a auto-stubber and hooked shortsword. 

Those who converse with Nicios leave unsettled and irritated, for he has little in the way of humor and warmth inside him. Comradery is not a virtue that he abides by; duty and faith guide his actions. To face the sharp eyes of the little psyker is to face an implacable will and utter dedication to the Throne.

 

 

Home World- Imperial (Agri) World
Divination- In the darkness, follow the light of Terra. +3 WP

Characteristics
WS 6 + 20 = 26
BS 16 + 20 = 36
S 13 + 20 = 33
T 6 + 20 = 26
AG 12 + 20 = 32
Int 18 + 20 = 38
Per 11 + 20 = 31
WP 17 + 20 = 37 (+3 for Divination, +3 for Superior Origins, +5 for Advancement = 48) 
Fel 2 (rerolled to 4!) + 20 = 24

Age: 29
Skin: Fair
Eyes: Grey
Hair: None
Height: 1.62m
Weight: 51kg

Wounds: d5(1) +8 +3 = 12
FP: d10(4) = 2
Move: 3/6/9/18
Armor: 2 everywhere but head (0)- Light Flak coat and Quilted Vest

Starting XP 100
Sanctionite (0-499)
100 - Advance Willpower Simple +5
100 - Forbidden Lore (Warp)
100 - Scholastic Lore (Occult)
100 - Minor Psychic Power (Spasm)
100 - Meditation

Neonate (500-999)
200 - Psy Rating 2 (gain minor powers Deja Vu and Resist Possession)
100 - Forbidden Lore (Psykers)
100 - Pilot (Civilian Craft)
100 - Minor Psychic Power (Healer)

 

Skills:
Common Lore: Imperium/Imperial Cult/War, Speak Low Gothic/High Gothic, Trade: Merchant, Literacy, Invocation, Psyniscience, Scholastic Lore: Occult, Forbidden Lore: The Warp/Psykers, Pilot (Civilian Craft)

Talents:
Melee Weapon Training (Primitive), Pistol Training (SP), Psy 

Psychic Powers: 
Sense Prescence, Resist Possession, Inflict Pain, Spasm, Deja Vu, Healer

Starting gear
Compact stub revolver + 3 bullets, sword, staff, quilted vest, tattered robe, psy-focus (ring), knife (psykana mercy blade)

Starting Wealth
Psyker: 50 + d5 (1) = 51
Monthly Stipend (Supine Class) = 70
(2 x 70) + 51 = 191 Starting Throne Gelt

Spent Wealth
50: Stub Automatic
1: 20 bullets for Automatic
5: 6 dumdum rounds for compact stub revolver
80: Light Flak Coat
= 55 Throne Gelt left

Notes-
-5 to Forbidden Lore tests due to Imperial World Blessed Ignorance
Completely hairless due to Sanctioning Irradiance effect
Missing pinky finger on left hand

 

Edited August 4, 2022 by Lord_Ikka

[Beren]

IN PROGRESS

 

Garvek Halsome - 'Stimms'

To hear him describe it, Stimms has had a quiet and pious upbringing learning how to plow soil on an agri-world, before finding his true calling in providing the Emperor's salving grace on the battlefields where his Armies defended humanities destiny among the stars.

That's all grox-dung. True, look at the paperwork at it all adds up to a point. Surprising how much you can get done just by leaping to attention and snapping out 'Yes Sir's' when the brass has its head pointed in your direction.

Of course, one might be curious as to how such a staunch and undoubtedly loyal member of His armies ended up in a penal battalion, or why the testimony of his company's sole other surviving member lead to him being declared a deserter after it was wiped out by Orks, and an Imperial Navy planetary bombardment, on the jungle moon of Horon.

The truth, often a well concealed truth, is that 'Stimms' is a manipulative and occasionally murederous prick with a side business in trading drugs, something that happens to be a lot easier when you're in good enough standing that your betters don't feel too much need to keep an eye on you, but not so high a standing that such a scrutiny ends up doubling. Easiest to notice a tarnish on something freshly polished and all that. 

Either way, through a combination of deciet, murder, murder by proxy, tactical cowardice, opportunistic looting, assistance from one 'Wide-Eyes' and a fortuitois coincidence of a run in with some fop of a nobleborn officer allowed Stimms to escape the jungle not only with his life, but his freedom.

For a little while.

As it turns out, you can't con everybody. That fortuitous coincidence wasn't such a coincidence, and that fop of a nobleborn officer wasn't such a fop of a nobleborn officer. You can't con everybody, but some people can make use of an expendable who can con almost everybody. A way around illicit connections doesn't hurt either.

So now what? Fake his death? The bastard'd be expecting that, which just means he has to fake his death really well. 

You can't con everybody. Maybe the Inquisitor'd handle it himself. Maybe he'd just drop a hint to a certain stiff-backed red head who somehow found her way back into the Stormtroopers. 

In appearance, Garvek is a slightly short, plain-faced man with short-cropped brown-blonde hair and watery blue eyes. He's currently wearing the same civilian clothing he managed to acquire in the week before the Inquisition brang him in (fortunately not the same blood and mud stained outfit he escaped Horon in). He's dressed not dissimilarly to how he would back on his homeworld, sturdy outdoors clothing, with heavy water and mud-proof boots. His rain-cape, useful for both protection from the elements and to innocuously conceal anything he might be carrying, has currently been stripped from him, along with the rest of his possessions.

Edited August 8, 2022 by Beren
Updating.

[Machine God]

Kerr Restal - Assassin.

    

Kerr was born into the Restal Clan, part of a varied conglomerate of Clan Families on the Space Hulk that he called home. A child of the Warp, a wanderer, a blessed traveller on Man's Voyage. A child of three dimensions. Everyone said that they could hear the ships voices.

Kerr Restal heard His Voice when he was ten standard years. Targets that had strayed. His home hulk was old and decrepit, resources stretched think and yet some hoarded instead of shared. Not Right. Some died and people were happier.

Man's Voyage moved according to its ancient drives and mass. Kerr Restal is reckoned to be twenty-nine years old - standard. He has pilot skills and has visited Mud Balls in the past. Strange heavy places, not right places. But trade resources must be done and targets must be slain in His Name. Targets bring contracts and Thrones.

Recently he was called to visit the Hive Primus of Damocles. A voice from Him, seek the I. 

 

Homeworld: Void Born - Space Hulk: Man's Voyage.

Characteristics:

WS 20 +20 = 40
BS 20 +15 +5 = 40
STR 15 + 11 = 26
TGH 20 +9 = 29 +5 = 34
AGL 20 +10 +5 = 35
INT 20 +13 = 33
PER 20 +11 = 31
WIL 25 + 14 = 39
FEL 20 +5 = 25

Height: 6'
Weight: 60kg

Age: 29 (Maybe)

Wounds: 15
FP: d10(9) = 3
Move: 3/6/9/18

Imperial Divination: "Mutation Within, Corruption Without" - Minor Mutation: Feel No Pain - Wounds +1

Skills:
Awareness, Deceive, Dodge, Speak Low Gothic, Speak Voider, 

Talents:
Catfall, Melee Weapon Training (Primitive), Pistol Training (Las), Basic Weapon Training (SP), Pistol Training (SP), Unremarkable

Starting Gear:
Compact Las Pistol + 1 Charge Pack, Sword, Knife, Shotgun and 12 shells, Common Body-Glove disguised as a ragged Void Suit, Charm (Corpse Hair),   3 doses of Stimm.

XP Spent: 1450

XP To Spend: 50
Spends:

Toughness +5 (Assassin Characteristic Advance - Simple)

Ballistic Skill +5 (Assassin Characteristic Advance - Simple)

Agility +5 (Assassin Characteristic Advance - Simple)

Sell Steel (0-499)
Sound Constitution, Sound Constitution - 100, Climb - 100, Silent Move - 100, Thrown Weapon Training (Primitive) - 100, Pilot (Civilian Craft) - 100, Catfall - 100, Drive (Ground Vehicle) - 100

Shadesman (500-999)
Sound Constitution, Security - 100, Pilot (Civilian Craft +10) - 100, Ciphers (Acolyte) - 100

Nighthawk (1000-1999)

Sound Constitution.

 

Starting Wealth:

Total Starting Wealth: 412 Thrones.

Starting Purchases:
Trench Coat with lots of pockets, Light Flak Gloves incorporating Brass Knuckles
Traded Shotgun for Combat Shotgun, Under Arm Holster for Compact Las Pistol
Ammunition Webbing with 40 Shotgun Cartridges plus holsters, sheathes and scabbards
Filtration Plugs
Ration Pack 10, Water Bottle (Full)
Photo-Contacts
Good Walking Boots

Silver Locket and Small Knife.

Fast Return Receipt.
Total: 392 spent,

 

Wealth: 1455 Thrones.

 

https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1HDJG2N2oxv05h_hmFzQL6eV6CNsseRgd/edit#gid=674219901

 

 

[/spoiler]

Edited May 24, 2023 by Machine God
Treasure

[Necronaut]

The Penitent (Convict # MVZXK3394125)

 

+++ Damocles Penal System +++

+++ Hive Primus Prisoner Records +++

+ Inquisition Credentials Confirmed +

+ Clearance Level: Alpha Primus +

+ Access Granted +

+ Data Inquest Acknowledged +

+ Please Stand By +

+ Ave Imperator +

… 

… 

… 

Subject: Convict # MVZXK3394125

Given name: Unknown

Age: Unknown (35 estimated)

World of Origin: Unknown

Height: 1.75m

Weight: 60 kg

Crimes: Desertion (1 count), Murder (3 counts), Intent to damage Imperial Property (4 counts), Damage of Imperial Property (8 counts), Intent to assault an Imperial Officer (2 counts), Assault of an Imperial Officer (1 count), Blasphemy (1 count), Loitering (1 count)

… 

… 

… 

Military Service Record:

- Man-at-Arms, [UNKNOWN] Crusader Legion - 3 years, Deserted

- Conscript, 433rd Penal Legion - 4 years, Citation for Valor

- Conscript, 2932nd Penal Legion - 3 years, Citation for Heroism

- Conscript, 801st Penal Legion “Diamond Dogs” - 3 years, Crusade Honors, Citation for Valor

- Transferred to 1st Damocles Penal Legion

…

…

…

Subject Profile: Subject has provided no name or world of origin under ordinary questioning, but responds well when addressed by penal system serial number.

Subject was incarcerated after being discovered upon feral world designation Gamma-Acherus III, which had previously been unsuccessfully subjected to a Compliance Action by Astra Militarum forces. It is unknown how long the subject had been alive on the planet, but it was clear he had “gone native” in the common vernacular. Subject was discovered equipped with a suit of heavily patched feudal pattern chain-and-flak armor, a well-worn battle-axe and a battered wooden and steel shield, along with standard-issue lasgun with a long-depleted power cell. Subject was violent upon first contact and attacked his captors, slaying three troopers and grievously wounding a non-commissioned officer from the 4222nd Expeditionary Force, before being subdued. 

Subject was subsequently incarcerated and conscripted to the 433rd Penal Legion, during which time it was noted that the subject came to see the error of his ways and express genuine contrition. Subject went on to serve with subsequent penal legions, during which time he served meritoriously, but refused promotions, seemingly preferring to serve on the front lines to expurgate his sins.

Subject speaks with heavily accented Low Gothic, owing to his many years spent amongst a native tribe on Gamma-Acherus III, but speaks like an Imperial citizen born of a feudal world, utilizing an archaic Low Gothic vernacular, albeit one peppered with words and expressions in the Gamma-Acherus III-ese tribal dialect, which have proven utterly undecipherable and unintelligible.

Subject was noted for having prior Imperial Guard training when conscripted to the 433rd Penal Legion, but has thus far refused to name his original regiment, claiming he has brought dishonor upon himself and his brethren. Subject’s torso and arms are covered in many ritually-applied tribal markings in the form of an intricate network of scar tissue, in addition to a large Aquilla tattoo across his back and shoulders, almost certainly applied during his original tour of duty. The subject’s original Astra Militarum standard serial number tattoo (located on the right pectoral) has been removed by extensive scarification and branding, utterly obliterating the marking and casting doubt upon his origins.

Subject is a capable warrior and extremely physically durable, considered a valuable asset to the forces of the God-Emperor. Subject has been noted for his piety, and often spends time in solitary prayer. Outside of deployment, subject prefers to remain in full armor, obscuring his face behind his feudal-pattern guard helm in the belief that attention might be drawn away from him as a man and toward the God-Emperor.  

...

...

...

+ Inquisition Authority Override Accepted +

+ Asset Acquisition Confirmed +

+ Transferring Subject to Inquisition Custody +

+ Sacramentum Poenitentiae et Reconciliationis +

+ Ave Imperator +

Edited August 3, 2022 by Necronaut

[Mazer Rackham]

+ ORDO HERETICUS +

=][= INQUISITION HOLOFILE =][=

+ Remain at Terminal +

 

Location: Hive Primus, Damocles

Population: 71,673,224 Citizens

Tithe: Exacta Tertius

Produce/Export: Metallurgical

Common internal trade: Mercantile (fabrics, plastek goods, licensed arms and cybernetics)

Import: Foodstuffs, Soft materials, Hardware items (non-local manufacture).

Height: Six Imperial Miles. (Finial Spire 'The Needle' 300 feet, not counted as not habitat).

Depth: One mile, four thousand feet (Underhive raft and Sump depth).

Category: 0 = Proto, 1 = Minoris, 2 = Minima, 3 = Median, 4 = Majoris, 5 = Maximus

Noble Houses:

• Aldario
• Cassal
• De Grassi
• Horvon

Trading Houses:

• Borodi
• Canthus
• Grunberg
• Tirant

 

Imperial Organisations: Adeptus Administratum, Telepathica, Sororitas, Ecclesiarchus, Arbites.

Crime: 62.5% Non-Moral (Materialistic), 36.9% Moral Threat [CLASSIFIED - REDACTED], 0.6% Unclassified.

Known Organised Gangs:

• Carpe Noctem
• Sump Slumdogs
• Conflagration of Immortality
• Rockheads

 

Edited March 3, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

+ ORDO HERETICUS +

=][= INQUISITION HOLOFILE =][=

+ Remain at Terminal +

Hive Primus:

Colour map (Trading Houses):

• Borodi (Luxury goods, furnishings, clothing, foods and wines)
• Canthus (Weapons, munitions, security, mercenaries)
• Grunberg (Medicae, research, cybernetics, instruments, legal narcotics)
• Tirant (Engineering, tools, maintenance, Mechanicum temples)

 

Trading houses also have private security forces, but the Arbites have far more sway here. Several claims of undue influence by Noble house-backed competitors are completely unfounded...

 

Current Hive Overseer/Planetary Governor: Her Most Magnificent Highness, The Learned and Prosperous Lady Magda Aldario XVI, Benefactor of all Strata, Ruler of all Damocles, in His Name.

 

Each Noble house serves a term in office before passing it on to another House representative. The Planetary Governership is therefore dynamic.

Edited May 10, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Mazer Rackham]

+ ORDO HERETICUS +

=][= INQUISITION HOLOFILE =][=

+ Remain at Terminal +

Battlefleet: Agrippa

Type: Bastion Fleet

Sector: Ultima Segmentum

Capital: 5 Hulls

• Apocalypse Class - Hector's Revenge
• Mars Class - Crimson Dawn
• Lunar Class - Scion of Gehenna
• Lunar Class - Robed Scholar
• Dauntless Light Class - Spear of Gold

Escort Group: 6 Hulls

• 3 x Sword "Wolfpack"
• 3 x Cobra "Lancers"

Command Crew: Flag-Captain Horatio Halbast (Revenge)

Secondary Officers:

• Captain Rosana Schulbert (Dawn)
• Captain Salvak Polsten (Gehenna)
• Captain Bridman Chambers (Scholar)
• Lieutenant Valea Jakoban (Gold)

Servicemen: 1m+

Landing Complements: 65 Bulk Landers, 30 Personnel per bay.

Patrol Route:

• Dionysus (Foodstuffs RESUP)
• Colchera-III
• Sevastopol-Minima (Munitions MAINTDEM RESUP)
• Cicero
• Damocles (Machine Parts MAINTDEM RESUP)

Edited March 3, 2023 by Mazer Rackham

[Kelborn]

Nicodemus "Nico" Hivmund - Cleric

 

 

Nicodemus Hivmund was born on an imperial backwater world named Balrun Secundus, which itself laid close to the warzone around Agrellan. Ignored by both, imperial forces and the uprising T’au empire, the people of Balrun Secundus continued their simple life as farmers and hunters, oblivious to the genocide happening in the galaxy and even around them.

 

Once rediscovered by an exploring Rogue Trader who goes by the name of Edwardin Van-Klockenstein, the few thousand encompassing Balruns population, they quickly adapted to what Van-Klockenstein and his retinue sold them as “civilized imperial life”. Brother Marwyn, a veteran member of the holy Ecclesiarchy, especially formed a close bond with the people he brought the imperial creed. This led to him being accepted as an honored member of the Balrunians and his decision to stay behind when Van-Klockenstein announced his departure.
Marwyn, who himself bore many secrets and sins of the past with him, build an orphanage for those, whose parents have died by either accident or predatory beast. Among these children was Nicodemus, who lost his parents when he was merely two years old.

 

Brother Marwyn grew fond of the little boy, adopting him by himself and raising him as both, son, and student. 

Many years later, Nicodemus, or Nico as his friends kept calling him, return from a visit on a nearby market only to see the village and the orphanage were ablaze. Marauding pirate of the worst kind, had raided most of Balruns villages, slaughtering everyone and using their still warm corpses as offerings to dark gods in blasphemous rituals. Nicodemus found Marwyn, broken and bloodied, yet still drawing breath and surrounded by a dozen cultist pirates corpses. A man in black robes kneeled at his side, trying to tend to his wounds. Marwyn introduced Nico to the man who would change his life forever, Garrad Locke. An old friend and companion of Marwyn, he was the one Nicos father turned to call for help. How and why, it was that Locke arrived so quickly was beyond Nicos understanding. Yet, he was glad that his father was still alive. Locke convinced Nico to join him in defeating the pirates as he himself was after them for quite a while now. Marwyn gave his old hammer to Nico and together, they went after the pirates.
When the bloodying was done and the marauders had fled, they returned to Marwyn only to discover, that the old priest had hid another, even deeper wound before them. With his last breaths, Marwyn spoke to Nico in privacy, telling him that he was proud and would always be at his sons’ side. Locke will take care of him if he chooses so. 

After his father’s death, Nico spoke to Locke, who offered him a place at his side. He and his father had a shared past and there was much, Marwyn did not tell his son. Much to learn and even more to fear. But they would do the Emperors will and safe thousands if not millions in time.
Nico denied, saying that there was work to be done before he could consider joining Locke. Funerals had to be held, friends had to be buried and given the last blessing. Locke accepted, biding farewell to Nico by saying: “When you are ready, seek me out on Damocles Primus. We will find you.”

Since then, Nico had buried his family and friends alone, their deaths weighting on his shoulder forevermore. The entire village had burned down, its ash collected and used for ink. With it, the names of the slain people, his people, were tattooed across his chest, forming the imperial aquila. Until his last breath would he uphold their lives and stories. 

Until his last breath would he recite their names when striking his foes. 
Until his last breath would he hunt those responsible for their death. 
Until his last breath. 

For the Emperor. 
 

[Ancient_Sobek]

 

Subject: Matthias Beckett

Call Sign: Cutter

Age: 46 

World of Origin: Hyperia

Height: 5’11”

Weight: 136 lbs.

… 

… 

… 

Military Service Record:

Flight Leader, 392nd Fighter Squadron “Hell Shrikes” (retired)

Citations: Laurel Imperialis with Bronze Eagle

Distinguished Flying Crux

Hyperian Aerial Marksman medal

Confirmed Kills: 28

…

…

…

Subject Profile: On paper Lt. Beckett appears to be an exemplar of the ideal Imperial Navy Pilot. Graduating in the top 1% from the Hyperia Royal Military Academy’s distinguished flight school and multiple commendations serve to obscure a record of cavalier disregard for orders and the chain of command. Only his obvious skill and bravery shielded him from sanction. In an effort to instill a deeper sense of accountability Squadron command promoted him to Flight Leader of 13th Flight. Responsibility to his men seemed to curb his more egregious tendencies for a time. However fate would finally catch up to him in the air battle above Acheron.

It was during the loyalist push into the planetary capitol hive that Lt. Beckett would pay the price for his over confidence. The assault had went badly from the start, hampered by poor intel and enemy disruption of the communication lines. After three days of brutal fighting the imperial commanders were forced sound the retreat to save what they could of their severely mauled troops.

 

Lt. Beckett, ignoring orders to pullback drove his flight toward the warlord titan “Foe Hammer” harrying the fleeing tanks of the 2085th Cadian tank regiment. The attack would prove pyrrhic. While the flight was successful in drawing the enemy’s fire away from friendly forces it would lead to the death of the entire flight save for the Lt. himself. He did not escape unscathed miraculously surviving the crash of his Lightning Strike Fighter when the aircraft took a glancing hit from the titan’s Volkite Eradicator. The impact of the fearsome weapon sheared the left half of the plane from the fuselage and near fatally wounding Beckett.

 

It was by sheer luck that the wreckage of his craft was found by locals friendly to the Imperium. Despite the loss of both legs, his left arm and burns across 73% of his body he fought on. He spent the next 6 years of the war fighting alongside the local resistance. He would finally be reunited with his squadron as the war came to a close.

 

The reunion was short lived however. Though the resistance medics did their bumpiest to patch him up, the lack of resources available to them meant that the repairs were crude at best. Severe nerve damage in his extremities along with several misaligned fractures meant that he could not be fitted with the cybernetic replacements the Navy had. Medically unable to fly aircraft left him without a place in the unit. Coupled with rumblings from other pilots and officers to look into charges of negligence in the deaths of his flight team led his commander to mark his as a medical discharge to avoid causing more strife in the unit.

 

Dropped at the nearest way station with his discharge chit and a handful of credits Beckett felt lost. Flying was his greatest talent and joy. Sinking into a deep depression he became addicted to tranqs and alcohol to numb his chronic pain and melancholy. He spent several years in the slums of the station scraping a meager living with odd jobs and dock work.

 

The Emperor was not done with him it seemed as he was approached by an agent of the Inquisition who had need of his skills. In exchange for his undying loyalty he was attended to by Chirurgens of a quality far beyond anything the Navy would ever waste upon a lowly pilot. The gift of flight was worth more than anything to him and he is wholly devoted to the Inquisition that saved him from the abyss.

 

Edited February 17, 2023 by Ancient_Sobek

[Mazer Rackham]

=][= CLASSIFIED =][=

"The Emperor causes the rain to fall upon the just and the guilty alike. It's up to me to set the altitude."

+Vault Holofile: 01-1-280.A (Asset): The Voivode.+

 

[PLACEHOLDER]

[Marshal Valkenhayn]

    Inquisitor.
    Both myself and my crew remain at your disposal, though I confess to some apprehension as to your request that Captain Halbast remain ignorant of our correspondents. 
    After careful review of available personnel, I believe that I have found a soldier that meets most of your requisite specifications. Included with this missive is a brief outline of his service record, as well as a testimonial from his Superior Officer and a triplet of candid recordings taken during his visits to the ship's shrines. If he meets with your approval, please send your response in the usual way and his duty roster will be cleared in preparation for transfer.
Captain Rosana Schulbert, Crimson Dawn
Ave Imperator

ID:  SGT Solomon 1071 Kytele-V  (S-BC-CD20335-7S)
Commendations:  Winged Halo (void boarding action),  Brass Aquila (served alongside Adeptus Astartes),  Broken Claw (Confirmed Xenos Kill),  Crimson Cross (wounded in battle),  Steel Cross (extreme bravery),  Bronze Skull (1 year's service),  Silver Arrow (confirmed ship kill),  Silver Skull (5 year's service),  Golden Skull (10 year's service)
Campaigns:  Damocles Gulf Crusade
Major Engagements:  The Battle of Sy'l'kell  The Battle of Pra'yen  The Scouring of the Black Sails

    TESTIMONIALS
"Grim bastard was here before me. Rumor is he out-lived his last unit, and some of the boys say he's cursed. Load of Bosh if you ask me. He's a good man and a loyal soldier. Does what you tell him, always on time. Can be right moody after a jump, but travel hits us all different. Tough as an Ogryn too. Bet he outlives me." - LT Pestle 'Brick' Hornbrag

    RECORDINGS

 - 742.M41 (post destruction of Sy'l'kell's orbital station)
The Audio Visual recording opens on the upper half of a pox-scarred young man with buzzed brown hair. Grey eyes dull and staring, he kneels in silence for a time, skin unnaturally pallid against the maroon and black of his gore-splattered void armour. Truly, he can barely be called a man. Just a lad really, perhaps 15 or 16 years old and clearly in shock. His filthy helmet is clutched against his stomach, gloved fingers toying with the visor as he takes the time to gather his thoughts.
"My friends are dead."
Words shaky and uncertain, the lad breathes in, then out, licks dry lips.
"All of them. I'm the only one left. From my orphanage. The only one who didn't die. And it wasn't--it isn't--" 
The boy's eyes blink hard, shiny in the flickering light of the candles. With every word a thickness settles deeper into his throat, an unseen pressure crushing down upon him as he struggles to keep it together.
"It's not because I was stronger or better. Not a hero like the stories. Just because I was last."
A gloved fist lifts then, armoured knuckles scraping away snot and tears from features gone red with rage and shame.
"Please Emperor. I swear I won't pray for anything else for the rest of my life. Not for protection, Nothing. Just please Emperor, let me kill them. Let me Kill, ALL Of Them..."
The recording ends abruptly, freezing on a still image of the youth's smeared mess of a face.

 - 743.M41 (post Battle of Pra'yen)
Once again the young man kneels before the camera, though his sweat-slick hair is a little longer, pox-scarred features leaner and dusted with thick stubble. However, the largest change of all exists within his eyes, which have grown cold and distant. 
Unlike before his armour is clean, though scarred in many places, but the dark rings beneath his eyes and lack of grooming hint at hours of effort behind him.
"Confessor Braxus has rebuked me for lack of time spent in prayer. He questions my faith, but I know you will not forsake me. You have given me all that I asked, and in return I serve. Without question. Without demand. Without doubt. But, perhaps he is right. There is service, and there is devotion."
Grey eyes drifting closed, he lets out a long, exhausted breath, head bowing toward his chest as his body sways slightly on the spot.
"Victory is close at hand. Orders have come to rotate from gunnery to assault. The last push must come soon, and I crave it. I will look the enemy in the face as I kill them. They will know the bite of my axe, and burn in the fire of your fury. Know that I have not forgotten our deal. I am yours, forever."
Eyes opening wide, the young man breathes in deeply, then begins to rise, hands lifting his battered helmet to his head.
"Ave Imperator."

 - 763.M41 (post Scouring of the Black Sails)
A familiar suit of armour fades into focus, black carapace scarred in many places and maroon flak covered in scorch marks and stains. There are fresh splatters of gore across the front, right forearm soaked from fingertips to elbow. Helmet clutched loosely in his left hand, he lets it dangle against his thigh, light eyes gazing into the camera with thoughtful solemnity. The addition of a steel chain gleams where it hangs from his left pauldron, silver chrono resting against his chest within easy reach.
There are still hints of the boy he once was hidden throughout his features, but age has hardened the planes of his face into stone, thickened his jaw, lengthened his hair into an uncombed mess. Clean shaven and without any grey, the man probably falls short of 30 years, though with eyes that have clearly seen too much. Softer than the last transmission, but sadder as well. Worn down by time and pressure.
"Morning, Emperor. It's been a while."
Placing his helmet before him with a quiet thump, he lifts his cleaner hand to his face and rubs at one scarred cheek, shifting a bit uncomfortably on his knees to favor the right.
"Followed Brick onto a ship today. Never feels as good to kill Humans. Waste of blood. Guess you have a use for them though, in the next life. Not for me though. I'm still here..."
Lapsing into silence, the veteran moves his hand to the time piece and checks it, the motion seeming more like an old habit than the fidgeting of someone impatient to be gone. Taking note of the time, he lets the piece fall against his chest with a quiet clack and returns his gaze to the screen, a faint frown pulling at the lines of his space-weathered face.
"Still dream about them, you know. All of them, but the first more than most. Still see them hanging by their ankles in the alien galley where we found them, naked and skin peeled like a fruit. Put me off Corpse-Starch for a while, that first time. Would only eat Viridian for months. But when the tanks took a hit during the war...Well, hunger can change your mind."
A humorless smile twitches up the corner of his lips, doing nothing to make him look any less weary.
"I can hear them sometimes. When we're deep in it, traveling from place to place. Hear a familiar laugh through a hatch, but the room is empty. Snoring in the bunks that turns out to be some thing or other buzzing. Wonder if that's you, reminding me? If so, I don't need reminding."
Gaze dropping to his helmet, he sits in silence for a time, still and grim in the bulk of his armour.
"Guess that's about it. Pirates are dealt with. Back to patrols. Maybe if we stay in system I can start sleeping again."
With that, the soldier picks up his helmet and stands, right knee visibly stiff, and walks quietly out of frame.

Edited April 21, 2023 by Marshal Valkenhayn