[hider=Allarus Serendictus]
[b]Name:[/b] Allarus Serendictus 

[b]Chapter:[/b] Doom Eagles

[b]Chapter Demeanour:[/b] The Doom Eagles live by a simple creed: each and every one of them, by accepting the role as an Astartes, is already dead. They are staunchly fatalistic, fully accepting the bounds of their mortality and prepared to face their death at any given moment. This acceptance of the inevitable brings an absolute serenity and clear minded efficiency to their marines in the face of overwhelming odds.

[b]Personal Demeanour:[/b] Somber, stoic and often seen to be brooding, it would be a flat lie to say Allarus is the life of any kind of party. He is a quiet, perceptive type of man, whom prefers to listen to the words of others than put forth his own. The teachings of his chapter are deeply ingrained into his psyche; he has found peace in a death that has not yet consumed him and fears it not in the slightest.

In battle, this affords him a level of calculated precision in place of the spirited adrenaline that fuels other Astartes. Out of battle, it assists him in making peace with his fellows, reminding them that petty differences between individuals matter not in the end. Despite his fatalism and willingness to spearhead assaults, he is by no means suicidal, and understands well that the inevitability of death does not mean he is to perish in vain, but to do so only to fulfill a suitably important task and bring honor to the Imperium and his Brothers.

[b]Speciality:[/b] Assault Marine

[b]Rank:[/b] Battle-Brother

[b]Power Armour History:[/b] A suit of MKVII Aquila Armor of an unknown age, passed down through the generations of Doom Eagles. Each wearer has found his end on the fields of combat, the insides of the suit stained by blood shed over hundreds if not thousands of years and casualties uncounted. Each knick, scratch and scar that mar its surface are the remnants of a fatal wound, left after repairs as a solemn reminder to its wearer.

[b]Description:[/b] Allarus is a man of fairly plain appearance. His face is unremarkable, hard and chiseled by the rigorous hormonal therapies of the Astartes but not particularly attractive or undesirable to the common eye. His hair is kept short and well groomed, only an inch or two of his smooth brown locks allowed to spill from his scalp at any given time, and never enough to interfere with his vision. His eyes are a pale grey in shade and often filled with a certain melancholy in place of passion or hatred. As far as Marines go, he is several inches taller than most of his brethren and possesses a powerful physique even for an inhuman warrior, making him well suited for his role as an Assault Marine.

His armor is adherent to the Deathwatch standard, black in color with the exception of its pauldrons. The right holds the standard of the Doom Eagles in the chapter's white and silver, whilst his left bears the Inquisition's aquila and silver coloration. It is pockmarked and battle scarred, reminders of the wounds taken by Marines long passed. When deprived of his armor, simple robes of roughly hewn grey fibers are suitable for his purposes, secured by a sash of finer white silk.

[b]Skills:[/b] Allarus is quite talented in close range combat, favoring melee over the longer ranged tactics of his brethren as indicative of his specialization. He prefers the usage of the blade, supplementing it with a combat shield and bolt pistol. He is also skilled in the usage of jump packs and the aerial navigation skills required to successfully use them.
 
[b]History:[/b] Allarus was born upon the decaying remnants of the Agri-World Tellius-III to a family of farmers struggling to make ends meat. Wracked by millennia of nutrient draining farming to meet Imperial tithes, the soil of the world grew barren and sandy with each generation. It was clear to all  whom inhabited the planet that the world was dying, and soon would be nothing more than a husk. Yet Allarus, fifth son of his family, would not falter in his duties. Even in his youth as his parents starved and his siblings wasted away in the conditions, the boy toiled on with staunch determination, to meet his fate with a dutiful stiff upper lip.

It was by the graces of the God-Emperor himself that Allarus would find purpose beyond the fields of faltering wheat. The Doom Eagles were a chapter of grim demeanor who searched far and wide for recruits whom suites their unique outlook. Young men who would accept inevitability but remain dutiful and strong in the face of it. The search led them to dying worlds far and wide, and Tellius-III was a prime destination for this tour of the damned. Though they left with few recruits, Allarus was one of them, a child of twelve at the time.

Through grueling trials and heavy indoctrination, the doomed world of his home was forgotten, but not the lessons of fragile existence it taught him. He learned to accept the creed of his new family into his heart, passing the harsh tests the Eagles placed upon neophytes and becoming an official Battle-Brother of the chapter. For decades, he served loyally across battlefields all over the Imperium of Man, finding a niche as an Assault Marine among his fellows. When the oaths of the Deathwatch were to be fulfilled, Allarus, freshly off a campaign which took his company into the heart of an Ork WAAAAGH! was selected to answer the call, as one of the chapter's finest young marines.

[b]Equipment and Armament:[/b] Boltpistol, Two Krak & Frag Grenades, Power Sword, Combat Shield, Jump Pack (when applicable)

[b]Miscellaneous:[/b] Not an emo, I promise.[/hider]