[hider=Apollyon][b]Name:[/b] Apollyon Kaicero.

[b]Age:[/b] 27.

[b]Gender:[/b] Male.

[b]Race:[/b] Human.

[b]Appearance:[/b] An image of patrician perfection, Apollyon’s handsome face has been gene-sculpted in order to bring it up to the beauty standards of the esteemed House of Kaicero. His nose is straight and narrow, his lips are full and pleasant, his skin is light, grazed by the sun’s kiss, and his eyes are bright pools of iridescent sapphire -- though that is mostly by virtue of them being high-grade and extremely expensive bionic implants. He looks young and full of vitality and his close-cropped, golden hair does nothing to add to his age, nor does his clean-shaven jaw. While open and affable at first glance, there is an unsettling quality to the perpetual half-smile on his face and the shameless scrutiny of his gaze, which never wavers or bows to decorum. Apollyon is an aristocrat and a noble and he averts his eyes for no one. 

His outfit is equally as expensive as his face, though it is fortunately much more practical and less ostentatious than the ceremonial court-garb Apollyon would have worn back home. A darrk gray, nanofiber overcoat layered with nigh-invisible plates of bulletproof carbon makes up the bulk of it, high-collared and long-tailed, fastened across his chest with pitch-black buttons. His hands are stuck in leather gloves, his feet in matte-black combat boots and the rest of his body in combat fatigues not dissimilar from that of the Imperial Guard, save for their dark coloration and the finery of their thread. It is both stylish and protective while still leaving him full range of motion, though it won’t stop a bolter round to the chest. A sash of bright imperial yellow wrapped around his waist adds a splash of color.

Beneath his ensemble, Apollyon’s body is flawless and free of scars, save for the faint lines left by surgeries performed by the best modification-surgeons of the House of Kaicero. In a faint echo of the Astartes, Apollyon’s body has been enhanced with dense muscle-fiber and stimm-glands that flood his body with combat drugs at his command, giving him preternatural strength and speed in melee combat. 

Being fabulously wealthy from the outset of his adventure has given Apollyon access to highly exotic and exceedingly illegal weaponry; a Xenarch death-arc. It is a rifle-sized piece of xeno tech that uses powerful electrical generators wrought into the weapon to bring to life devastating blasts of storm-power, arcing tendrils of lightning that surge raw energy into hapless victims at close range, turning their bodies inside out. It is as powerful as it is impractical, with a low rate of fire and low efffective range, but it generates its own ammunition and makes for a terrifically intimidating display of force. If nothing else, Apollyon is fond of the theatrical. When the use of his death-arc is unwise or impossible, the enhanced aristocrat relies on a monomolecular combat knife in melee combat and a simple las-pistol as a sidearm. 

[b]Personality:[/b] Apollyon is an aristocrat through and through and it shows. His social behavior is based entirely around expectations and etiquette, entirely devoid of authenticity, for Apollyon has barely any empathy to spare for anyone but himself and his family. The inhabitants of the rest of the galaxy mean nothing to him, being either playthings or useful spectators to his life, and Apollyon is only as polite and well-mannered as he is because it’s what’s expected of him… and because it makes things easier. 

Prone to boredom, Apollyon seeks out adventure and excitement in order to bring a sense of thrill to his otherwise dreadfully uninteresting high-born life, sparse as it is in challenges or danger, but the idea of submitting to the authority and hierarchy of the armies of the Imperium fills him with disgust. He is happy to be part of the Rogue Trader’s muscle, but only because the life of a mercenary is not as regimented as the life of a soldier and he retains enough freedom for it to be tolerable. He is eager to see the stars and the mysteries within and has a keen interest in xenos, simply for the fact that they are so [i]different.[/i] Time will tell whether his naivety will be worn down and replaced with the xenophobia that is more commonplace in the people of the Imperium, or whether he might be drawn to thoughts and ideas that could be considered… radical.  

[b]History:[/b] Life as a member of the ruling class of Aphrodion IV is luxurious, comfortable and utterly boring. The House of Kaicero is one of the noble families that always has a seat on the Governor’s council and its scions have never eschewed the use, or misuse, of their status to gather considerable wealth and power. Apollyon was born as the third son of the family’s patriarch and as such never stood to inherit much in the way of interesting positions, but the family fortune was more than enough to provide him with a life of excess in perpetuity. 

Apollyon had no interest in that whatsoever. 

For as long as he can remember, Apollyon was more interested in the stars and the rest of the Imperium, and as he grew up that interest extended [i]beyond[/i] the Imperium. The stiffness and unending baroque traditionality of highborn life wore on him like a cheese grater and he turned to combat training with the family’s highly skilled cadre of bodyguards in search of something, [i]anything,[/i] that would save him from his boredom. He had a taste for combat that was immediately evident and a few days of pleading with his father was enough to have the family’s surgeon-retainers turn their considerable skills towards the enhancement of his body; if a member of the House of Kaicero was to have martial aspirations, he would do so with the most cutting-edge of tools at his disposal. 

He was not satisfied until he could beat all of the family’s bodyguards in the practice cages in single combat. After that, the only challenges that remained beckoned from the stars. Apollyon’s father was truthfully glad to be rid of his third son, whose boredom meant he was liable to lash out in unpredictable and unsettlingly callous displays towards the family’s servitors and indentured serfs, and he gladly sent Apollyon on his way to the stars with nothing more than a dream… oh, and some very expensive xenos tech and battle-gear purchased with family credits. 

Apollyon has been drifting towards the outer rim of the Imperium ever since, odd mercenary jobs and assassination contracts turning him from an absolute greenhorn into something resembling an experienced soldier-of-fortune, though it is fair to say he had gotten by with luck, sheer fearlessess and the unfair advantage of his enhancements as much as skill. It wasn’t until he discovered the recruitment messages of a Rogue Trader in the far orbiting stations of Bakka that Apollyon felt the true twang of mystery and excitement that he had been searching for. 

[b]Skills:[/b] 
[i]Bionic Enhancements:[/i] Apollyon’s body is modified to enhance every aspect of combat, from the targeting sensors in his bionic eyes to the strength and speed of his semi-artificial limbs to the potent combat drugs that slow down his perception of time and allow him to match an Eldar Banshee blade-for-blade. 
[i]Knife-Fighter:[/i] The aforementioned blade combat is performed with a monomolecular combat knife that serves as an extension of Apollyon’s arm, such is his skill with his favored melee weapon. It won’t stand up to a Chaos Marine with a chain-axe, but it does the job against almost everything else. 
[i]Fastest Gun in the West:[/i] Long hours on the practice range and unnaturally sharp eyesight mean that Apollyon is a crack shot with his las-pistol, though the effective range is limited by the nature of the weapon itself. Apollyon is particularly good at drawing his weapon and placing a las bolt between someone’s eyes in the blink of an… well, an eye, in the fashion of an old remembrancer-pict from Ancient Terra. 

[b]Equipment:[/b] 
[list][*] 3 photon flash grenades.
[*] 3 las-pistol charge packs.
[*] Data-slate.
[*] Auspex.  
[*] Credit chit.
[*] Xenarch death-arc.
[*] Monomolecular combat knife.
[*] Last-pistol, standard issue.[/list]

[b]Miscellaneous:[/b] Apollyon plays a mean game of regicide, though he makes for a poor loser.[/hider]