[hider=Father Daragh O' Shornassey][b]NAME:[/b] Daragh O' Shornassey

[b]HOMEWORLD:[/b] The planet of Oileán na Tost - Island of Silence in the local vernacular - is a rather insignificant 'Garden World' placed smack in the middle of the Segmentum Tempestus, a planet covered in large islands which in turn are themselves covered in plains of the greenest grass, hillocks and soaring mountain peaks, and little else. The only habitation on the islands are hamlets and villages of thatched cottages, the inhabitants friendly to the point of eccentricity (even more so when they've got some of the local [i]fire water[/i] in their bellies) and these are at a level of technology barely above that of a blackpowder era. For the most part the Oileáners are herders, shepherds and pastoral experts, their only larger group of houses that could be given the name of 'town' being used as leisure retreats for high-ranking off-worlders.

What makes the planet interesting to the Imperium, outside of the opportunity to relax on a world nigh untouched by the wars and strife that ravage the rest of the galaxy, is the unique monastic traditions and more [i]natural[/i] worship of the God-Emperor that the population take part in. For the most part this involves living in a mountain cave on nothing put bread and water, or dunking oneself into an ice-cold river or lake several times a day, reciting prayers and adorations to the Emperor in between said activities, the joys of flagellation also espoused by the planets priesthood for better or worse. More of note is the constant recitation and imbibing of knowledge from the local incarnation of the [i]Lectitio Divinitatus[/i], a furious belief in the Emperor and an almost word-for-word recall of the words being part of the recruitment process for any young man or woman wishing to enter the priesthood.

Although known for its peace and tranquility, an almost reverent atmosphere pervading the whole planet, Oileán na Tost has managed to raise no less than seven regiments for the Imperial Guard, each one devoted and unwavering in their duty to the One True God-Emperor. It has been noted that each regiment takes with it an over-large cadre of priests and robed monks, but that even they fight side-by-side with their brethren, the 6th Oileán Fusliers earning great renown during the purging of Eenoth when an attack spearheaded by one such holy formation drove a Chaotic force from the Cathedral of St Justine Maxillia there, and in the process saving the relics of the blessed saint.

[b]AGE:[/b] 120, looks to be in his mid-fifties. 

[b]GENDER:[/b] Male 

[b]APPEARANCE:[/b] Most things about Daragh are diametrically opposed in one way or another, and this extends even to his outward appearance.

To begin with, kept relatively youthful by rejuvent treatments over the decades due to his position and profession, his fiery red hair, usually peaking atop his head in jutting spiked tufts, has kept the volume and lush look it began with in his younger years with the difference being that both it and the goatee-style beard about his mouth and chin are peppered with streaks and a dotting of grey follicles where he is undoubtedly aging albeit at a slower rate than others. His blue eyes on the other hand seem those of someone far older, set deep into the sockets of his oval-shaped face beneath low-set bushy brows, constrasting extremely with his feckled but pallid skin tone, they look out at believers and the damned alike with an intensity of gaze and purpose that would make a member of the Sororitas proud. Thin of lip, his mouth is mostly set in a neutral slit within his beards edges, able to flicker into an animated smile or twist into a furious snarl whenever required - he is very rarely anything less than pleasant though, so any down turning of the lips is not a good sign overall.

In terms of the rest of his body he is just as different, his broad frame and almost ape-like arms looking somewhat out of place when one notices the state he has kept himself in; while not 'fat' by any length of the word, he is nevertheless on the wrong side of physical fitness with his stomach being somewhat of a beer gut, his musculature slightly drooping, and generally not seeming to have kept himself in decent shape - were it not for the fact that he was over six-and-a-half feet tall it might even be comical!  This in itself is an illusion...

It has astounded and stupified more than one rookie to see the jovial and unkempt Chaplain sprinting, yes, [b]sprinting[/b] after a suspected felon, to watch as he scaled a wall or fence with as much ease as any of the younger Arbites, and especially to have themselves placed on their backs during close-quarter training sessions.

While he may look very much like a serene and comforting figure - which he undoubtedly is, being part of his remit after all - it would be foolish for anyone, friend or foe, to underestimate this fighting Chaplains physical prowess.


[b]ROLE:[/b] (Combat) Chaplain of Strike-Team Omnicron, also known as [i]Padre[/i], Father or any of the titles usually used by those from varying backgrounds.

[b]UNIFORM:[/b] Daragh wears the standard suit of black carapace armour as any other Arbitrator, although commonly eschewing the use of his helmet for his own reasons, the only other non-issue flourishes being the symbol of the Ecclesiarchy both embedded  in the centre of his chest plate in gold - contained within it the conversion field of his rosarius, capable of stopping most incoming fire if his faith alone does not -  and the similar white symbol painted on his shoulder pad. Over the armour he wears a patched and hooded robe of a monkish style, coarse and brown in colour, signifying his position as a Chaplain within the Arbites force and as a servant of the Ecclesiarchy at the same time.
 

[b]EXPERTISE:[/b] Being that he is a Chaplain and servant of the God-Emperor first and foremost, his expertise direct themselves toward the holy, spiritual and divine for the most part, encompassing religious texts and verse, inspiring oratory skills and generally being a living beacon of the Emperor's grace and will in a dark and dank hole of the universe. In particular to Daragh is the little-known fact that he had an eidetic memory, capable of recalling scents, sounds, smells and images from many years ago all without the assistance of a mental cogitator unit. It was this very thing that helped him so much during his time at the Schola Progenia, and that sees him able to quote straight from the pages of holy books, to bond with others over shared interests they never knew he knew and to keep an expert eye on the flock of Arbites to which he has been assigned.

Due to his upbringing, his homeworld, and the character of its people he has become an 'expert' in being able to read others and anticipate - a useful skill when you are part of a wider policing force - able to pick out lier's, frauds and the unfaithful with almost supernatural accuracy, whether in a line-up or a busy crowd of civilians.

Two other things he specialises in are alcohol and women, being a purveyor of both, having been the master of his Chapter Houses brewery on his planet and overseeing the production of fine ale. The ale would usually lead to the women, holy orders on Oileán na Tost being mixed in terms of genders and their being no sin in more...social...interactions between individuals, as long as one continued to worship and serve. In fact Daragh is almost constantly drunk, in a state or haze of intoxication near constantly, but with a shocking ability to become much more sober in the blink of an eye - whether this is simply a side-effect of becoming dulled to so much drink, or whether he truly can control his blood-alocohol level, no one really knows.

Lastly is his surprising expertise with close-quarter fighting, although this may not be when one considers the almost recreational violence that went on between Chapter Houses. At county fayres, farmers markets and more, there could always be seen 'holy' men and women from the abbeys, monasteries and so forth drawing their sticks and cudgels in anticipation of the friendly cracking of a few heads! It got even worse when they were in the drink, something all too common on a peaceful world such as Oileán na Tost, drunken brawls and street fights teaching Daragh more than a few tricks of the trade and turning him into not only a holy warrior of the Emperor but also a damn dirty fighter when the need arises.

[b]EQUIPMENT:[/b] 

[indent][b]- Primary weapon:[/b] His primary weapon is also his melee weapon, see below.

[b]- Secondary weapon:[/b] A simple and humble laspistol serves as the Chaplain's back-up; rugged, reliable and produced on Cadia, it is rarely used but is reasonably effective and has never jammed in a century of use.

[b]- Melee weapon:[/b] It's a shock maul, Jim, but not as we know it!

Based on the traditional brawling weapon of his homeworld, the much maligned but very effective [i]Síol Éalaigh[/i] or 'fighting stick', this shock maul has the solid metal shaft and head encased in solid and smooth [i]Ghelrar[/i] wood and is about the length of an arm from the elbow to the tip of the fingers. The weapon has three settings, one for each level of damage intending to be inflicted on the adversary, ranging from the lowest where it is pretty much just a metal-reinforced cudgel, to a shock enough to floor a man, and up into a blast powerful enough to blow a hole through a chest or crush a skull. A simple loop of leather cord keeps it secure around his wrist during combat. 

[b]- Tertiary equipment:[/b] Holy oil for last rites, exorcisms and the like, basic medical equipment - nowhere near the level of an actual doctor or medic, bandages and so forth - and a simple rosary and beads without a refractor field.

[b]- Mementos:[/b] He carries little from his 'past life', those precious items he does retain being the very robes he wears over his armour, a portfolio folder of past cases and personnel information on his parishioners, and a small leather-bound copy of [i]An leabhar sainordú Dhiaga an Impire[/i] - The book of Silence and the Emperor's Divine Mandate - the teachings of his own monastic order and their own form of Emperor worship.[/indent]

[b]BIOGRAPHY:[/b] Daragh Berach Fiachna Lorcan O' Shornassey was born over a century ago on the Garden World of Oileán na Tost, the eldest son in a family of three, his mother a weaver in one of the many small villages dotting the landscape, while his father had been selected from the planets small PDF contingent to help lead one of the very first Fusilier regiments raised from that green and fertile land. 

The young man had a rather stable upbringing, until he reached the age of seven, the transport his father's regiment was on having been ambushed and annihilated by Chaos forces and his mother leaving for the Emperor's side not long after due to a wasting disease that blighted both crop and person indiscriminately.

Along with his younger siblings he was sent to one of the many monasteries on the plant, their lives already ones of devotion to the Emperor and the Saints of the Eccelsiarchy, the brothers and sisters there teaching them things that would serve them well in later life - letters and numbers, how to make ones own clothing, how to feed oneself, and that the God-Emperor protects.

Once Daragh reached adolescence a man came for him, separating him from his weeping brother and sister - never for him to see them again - and taking him to the planets Schola Progenia. It was here the he was disciplined, moulded into the man he would one day become, whipped and thrashed and scarred for life in his endeavour to be of service to the one true God of Mankind. 

It would also be here that he would take an especial interest in law, even highlighting a natural aptitude for it to the Drill-Abbots, his black-and-white world view something that they found particularly endearing about the pale teenager. 

One thing they did not know was that during those years, over a decade to be exact, he would also feel the touch...and more...of several female orphans of the Progenia, something that would have a profound affect upon his later life.

Although not immediately selected for the Arbites, serving instead as a Missionary for many years, traveling to far off locations and bringing the fiery words of the God-Emperor to unenlightened heathens across the Imperium and beyond, there was one event that would draw their attention toward him.

On the Hive World of Ignathium Tertras, as part of an Ecclesiarchy entourage going to bless one of the worlds plentiful cathedrals, he and the Arbites escort that they had been provided with were set upon by cultists bearing the mark of Tzeentch and wielding Guard-grade weapons. A firefight ensued, the members of the Imperial Church becoming the prime targets of the assault, and many of the Arbites falling - wounded or otherwise - as the assault progressed. 

It was when the dust seemed to have settled, silence reigning, that the record seems to travel into the realms of the impossible...

One of the last remaining cultists stepped forward, faced only by a single brave Arbitrator - a man who would come to head his very own precinct in the future - his body twisting and warping, changed by the foul magics of his patron into the gods very own image. Death it was certain would have followed if the middle-aged Missionary had not intervened; his rosary held before him as divine protection, and verses of exorcism spilling without pause from his lips, Daragh stood between the pair and, so it is said, banished the Greater Daemon back to the warp.

Like all such tales, especially those that go unrecorded in official dispatches such as this did, it is open to questioning whether it even really happened!

Whether it did or whether it did not happen, when Daragh was a man in his fiftieth year he received a message from a Judge Catulo summoning him to the planet of Aphrodus Primaris, apparently he had been recommended to the post by an unknown Judge who 'owed him a life'. This began a seventy-year program of training in the Adeptus Arbites, and more particularly on Aphrodus Primaris.

It is only within the last year that he has been assigned to Strike Team Omnicron, well-versed in what needs to be done, and has taken up the post of Chaplain to those Arbites and specialists of Precinct S-12 with as much relish as any other task he has ever faced.

[b]PERSONALITY:[/b] This servant of the Emperor is as varied in his personality as he is in most other things, a kind and warm follower of the Imperial Creed on the outside, but more than willing to take pot-shots at what he sees as discrepancies or simply blatant untruths within that very same creed. 

While he [b]is[/b] warm and friendly to those that he knows, his comrades-in-arms, and generally any followers of the faith, his attitude to the xenos, the mutant and the heretic is severe to the extreme - to say nothing of those odd few that have been found dead in custody when he was in the vicinity. 

For example, he is happy to hand out aid to mutants, but he still views them as inferior and warped creatures to be shunned by pure-blooded humans. Another example of his own hypocrisy, which he acknowledges, is his knowledge of things that he really should not know; being a scholar-cleric and a warrior-monk he has learnt letters and even words of the insipid Eldar tongue, viewed and used fighting methods of the mutant underclasses of differing hive cities, and it is even whispered that he has looked upon tomes of Chaos and come away with his sanity intact.

Overall he has no extreme swings of personality - that he would publicly show - being a worshipper of the God-Emperor and follower of his laws to his very core, it just so happens that he has some foibles the same as everybody else.


[b]MISCELLANEOUS:[/b] None.[/hider]