[b]Name:[/b] Sallius Rust

[b]Age:[/b] 23

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Height and Weight:[/b] 6'0" and 120 lbs

[b]Speciality:[/b] Rifleman, Scout

[b]Appearance:[/b] War has taken it's toll on Sall's body- permanently destroying much that was once young and healthy, transforming him into a underweight and sickly individual that has yet to fully recover. From the neck down his skin is discolored with 'pools' of infected flesh long since contained by medication, the texture rough like dried blood, yet the dead skin is permanently latched on him. Other blemishes scar his body such as odd black spots, or dirt-like substances that remain irremovable. The lungs are also damaged, with him regularly coughing, having breathed in plenty of toxic chemicals in his service. And despite only being in his early twenties, Sallius may look much older thanks to the stress of combat, as if in his late thirties. The head is bald due to constant shaving, with no facial hair either, face is also much more tan than the rest of his body as its the only part exposed to sunlight at all times.

While recovering from all the weight loss of being in battle (thanks to actual hygienic and well supplied conditions) the outline of bones can be seen if Sallius twists or moves his body in a way that flexes the muscles. He may also walked a little hunched over from time to time, though this is often combated with a him trying to maintain a upright posture.

[b]Uniform:[/b] Sallius wears thick mud green military fatigues; a shirt that doubles as a winter jacket and baggy pants, black boots with tan gaiters wrapped around the ankles and the cuffs of the pants tucked into the gaiters. Leathery gloves around the hands, a wool scarf around the neck and a trench coat worn over all that, dark brown harness with ammo pouches and grenades cling to it, and suspenders of the harness around the shoulders. Actual armor is a mere flack jacket and helmet.

When the demands are made for the guardsmen to be mobile, Sallius also wears a backpack with a rolled-up sleeping bag at the top, and an 9-70 Entrenching Tool folded up and attached to the bag. 

A very important note of Sallius's behavior with clothing is that he very rarely exposes any of his skin, aside from the face. While fate may demand him to wear less or acknowledge his skin's poor condition, he will otherwise wear as much layers of clothing as possible, even when the weather is fairly warm. The wool scarf is known to never come off either as it makes for a very fitting hood in all conditions, which he enjoys wearing.

[b]Armament:[/b] Semi-automatic lasrifle, frag grenades, bayonet and a 9-70 Entrenching Tool

[b]Personality/Demeanour:[/b] Witnessing entire armies roll across a planet, or a horde of fervent barbaric creatures tear apart your allies. Both cause an equal amount of adrenaline to pulse through the body, Sallius has seen both plenty of times in his years of service now, mind having been broken and repaired long ago. Now becoming servitor-like in behavior Sallius is never angry, nor is he loud outside of combat, thoughts and motivations having become cold logic rather than bristling emotion. Talks can be awkward for anyone with the slightest hint of humanity in them as Sallius provides little in the ways of actual discussion, seeming uncannily human, to be breathing but not truly alive.

[b]Greatest Ambition:[/b] Seeing worlds, fighting enemies, understanding more. There is no specific desire, only broad strokes that serve as goals.

[b]Greatest Hatred:[/b] Thanks the war breaking apart his mind and turning Sallius into something quite distant of being human, its hard to say if he truly hates or likes anything. However, given he is a loyal servant of the Emperor and unquestioningly 'happy' with the genocide of xenos and heretics, its safe to assume those two categories are the closest to what he dislikes.

[b]Skills:[/b] Calm in mind, lightweight and experienced with a lasrifle, Sallius has come to be a fine scout despite his body teetering on complete decay.

[b]History:[/b]
Foruz, a civilized world sitting in the midst of Imperial territory, far from the realm of any xenos empire and unrelated to the machinations of the Chaos Gods. Its continents are filled to the brim with wildlife and vegetation, with cities dotting the coasts of these continents sparsely. Sallius was one of the many born in these cities, and would briefly experience the pleasant life of being on a world without war and capable of being self sustaining. Plentiful food, a hard working people, stable infrastructure and working technology, the planet would no doubt would be able to pay off any tithe the Imperium could offer. And it did! Despite the many millenia of Foruz's existence, food and materials fittingly covered each tithe.

However, over the years as Sallius grew older, Foruz's sector would be tossed into war- though the planet's people knew little of what danger was out there -the tithes became more demanding. At first, food production increased, with the population now given rations as the governor did his best to explain the situation. Then factories were being built instead of apartments or houses for the growing population, following with the economy struggling as the planet only prepared for wars that were occurring far from the planet.

And then, the long list of things required for the most recent tithe brought dread- able bodied men and women must be conscripted for the Imperial Guard.

In the span of a single night the eighteen year old Sallius's life went from the hard work of a civilian to the training of a soldier, rushed from his home to a recently built training facility deep within the forests. Six months they would spend there, training covering varying demands of their regiment. Light infantry, the two words that became so thoroughly covered every day the conscripts woke. the 1st Foruz Light Infantry Regiment, the unit which 3000 souls belonged to. Indoctrination, physical conditioning, communication protocols and survival techniques were put through their minds as much as their regiment's name.

At the end of the sixth month would the transport arrive, a massive vessel which the conscripts were sent off to, hastily given gear that was manufactured just on time for the unit's departure. Once aboard, their introduction to the Imperium as a whole and what it meant to be a guardsman began with lasrifles in their hands, another month spent in comprehension and listening, as well as coping with their situation of never seeing home again. As their shipboard training came to a close so did the trip, with their transport vessel leaving the warp and joining an armada of vessels that have been carving their way towards Vernum Primas. The war had been going on for fifteen years when the regiment originally arrived.

It would take five more years for the Orks to be defeated, with the 1st Foruzian Light Infantry Regiment serving side by side with fellow humans from all across the Imperium. In the first year alone the Foruzians lost much of their equipment and soldiers, and within the second year they were beyond recovery, by the time the war had reached Capitol only a few hundred Foruzians remained, fervently fighting to survive between the suicidal demands of their superiors and the brutality of the Orks. 

The few remaining, exhausted and covered in scars, prepare themselves as they're ordered to the fields. Sallius in all his emptiness follows along as ordered with his comrades beside him. Those with even the slightest hint of life behind their eyes silently plead for the right to settle down on this world or another, but Sallius maintains his upright posture of looking forward with still eyes, mind long gone from pleading for life to stop. Him and those like him know the truth, their war will never stop until "they" are all dead- whether "they" is humanity or the xenos and heretics so venomously fought.

[b]Miscellaneous:[/b] Rank presently stands as a Corporal.  
When the medical equipment is in surplus and Sallius is around, ointments for skin rashes are known to disappear, as well as coughing pills. 
He is also a avid reader, and while quick to 'find' (looting from the ruins of a library) a good novel, he is just as quick to discard it once finished.