[hider=Milo 'the Deathless'] [b]Name:[/b] Milo 'the Deathless' [b]Chapter:[/b] Sons of Antaeus [b]Chapter Demeanour:[/b] Unlike most of their kindred of the Twenty-First founding, the Sons received a mutation that was in many ways much more of a boon to them than a curse – as far as those outside the Chapter know, anyway. To this end they have not the fatalistic streak of the Lamenters, the protrusions and monstrous (unless you count their physical size) mutations of the Black Dragons, nor the xenophobia of the haughty and successful Minotaurs. As it is, the Sons are much like many other Chapters in terms of their overall outlook on things – they worship the Emperor, respect and pay homage to their Primarch Guilliman (even if those of the Primogenitors disown them at every turn), and lay low every enemy of the Imperium both within and without. This is not to say they are without flaw, not at all, for the very fact that they [b]are[/b] part of the so-called 'cursed founding' had led to an isolated and insular attitude Chapter wide. It was not by their own choice, but fate has caused others to look at them and their founding and stain them all equally. Their so-called invincibility, the very mutation in which they both take pride and recoil from in shame, marks them out as [i]different[/i], and within the ranks of the Astartes this is not always a good thing to be; it has even seem them clash with Inquisitorial operatives and Mechanicus biologists on more than one occasion, giving them a healthy Chapter-wide cautiousness about both arms of the Imperial machine respectively. [b]Personal Demeanour:[/b] Milo epitomises the 'friendly giant' archetype; though he will often speak little unless spoken to, once he is spoken to he becomes as open and jovial as one can get from a Space Marine. Even so, there are things concerning his own Chapter of which he does not speak, and there are prejudices that he bears other Chapters for past transgressions – most notably those of the Ultramarines and the Black Templars, though for two very different reasons. In battle he is exactly as he has trained and lived to be, a colossal avatar of the Emperor's wrath, a veteran of a hundred wars who, in spite of this, had no notions of leading others. His style of combat is flexible, adapting and overcoming as and when the need arises, a consummate warrior who takes pride in his work but realises when he has overstepped a bound and is humble enough to apologise for it. Having said that, there [b]is[/b] a certain coldness about him at times – somewhat ethereal and... airy as it may be - a time or a moment, usually when he is reflecting, that reveals a moroseness (perhaps even a loneliness?) shared by most of his brethren. Very rarely does this slip into the view of others, but when it does it is thoroughly obvious when compared to his otherwise gregarious behaviour and attitude. [b]Speciality:[/b] Terminator, though can fulfil most combat roles. [b]Rank:[/b] First Company Veteran [b]Power Armour History:[/b] The standard suit of Mark VIII 'Errant' armour worn by Milo is, as with most of these particular mark, without a significant history to it. Having been produced in a most limited amount, and replacing the Sons Mark VII armour only a century or so before he entered the First Company and subsequently the Deathwatch, it has nevertheless kept him alive and more-or-less in one piece throughout his elongated life thus far. Of more interest, and with a far more refined pedigree, is the suit of Indomitus Pattern terminator armour which Milo has warn into combat since receiving the honour of the [i]Crux Terminatus[/i] and permission to be gifted with what is essentially a relic; as a Chapter of the cursed founding, one looked down on as faulty to the extreme, the parent Chapter of the Sons of Antaeus – the noble Ultramarines – gifted their malformed progeny with but a small portion of terminator armour, this armoured shell being the one which Milo wears to this day. Each name of a deceased wearer is inscribed in minute script inside the breastplate of the suit and, given the obvious but little renowned resilience of the Sons, his own carries within it but five names; considering it has seen service for millennia, these are odds which seem extremely good indeed. [b]Description:[/b] Milo is quite literally a colossus, standing nearly at the same height as a Primaris marine outside of his armour – in fact he has often been mistaken for one, or queried on why he does not simply take a suit of Mark X armour for himself. Swollen with muscle in a way that dwarfs other Firstborn Astartes only adds to this delusion in others, a side effect of the Sons mutated gene-seed, his fists the size of most other marines heads and his limbs capable of tearing lifeforms apart without the assistance of weapons. Facially he is much like his sires in the Ultramarines, albeit in a vastly engorged skull and countenance, his features all the same being those that one may see on marble statues of Guilliman and his ilk. The same perfect symmetry, full lips under an aquiline nose, a jaw and cheekbones that mere mortals would kill for, flawless flesh and eyes of slate grey, all topped off by chestnut hair longer than stubble but shorter than a crew-cut. Out of his armour it is plain that every other part of him has received damage at some time or another, very few parts of his body without thick scars and puncture marks, healed bullet holes and a particularly nasty looking wound from right shoulder to abdomen. Most frequently he is seen in his suit of Errant armour, the grey and black of his Chapter and then the all-black of the Watch, his Chapters symbol of a skull on a grey background – two lines representing the earth and the sea flowing into and out of the skull on either side – remaining the only part left untouched. When called for he shall don his terminator armour, the most distinguishing feature being the cross on one shoulder plate – the Crux Terminatus - concealed within it al sliver of the Emperor's own holy protection. When out of armour he, like most of his brothers, dresses simply in a black robe tied about the waist. [b]Skills:[/b] Milo is possessed of very few what people might call 'unique' skills, the range of most he possesses being simply enlarged versions of standard Astartes training. Of course he could not have reached his rank without superbly refining them, as well as going above and beyond what was required of him, but little of this was due to innate skills that he possessed. Apart from his proficiency in the use of terminator armour, Milo is considered one of the greatest wrestlers and unarmed fighters of his Chapter, second is this only to his 'skill' as a bulwark in battle about which others frequently rally. [b]Equipment and Armament:[/b] Beside whatever load-out is given them for a particular mission, Milo prefers to wield a heavy form of weapon (bolter, plasma cannon etc) as well as his standard-issue combat knife. In Indomitus armour he favours a 'classic' approach, wielding a storm bolter in one fist and leaving his other as a chain-fist to crackle and whirr with deathly intent. [b]History:[/b] Milo Trophimus began life on a civilised world in the Five-Hundred Worlds (on a planet the name of which he cannot recall, to a family he no longer remembers), hoping one day to join the ranks of the Ultramarines or one of the Primogenitors, neither of which was to be his lot. No, he was selected to be one of the few candidates to undertake initiation into the Sons of Antaeus – a Chapter of which he had never heard, and, perhaps if he had, may never have allowed himself to be taken so easily to join. His life was torn apart, much like his fragile adolescent body, by giants amongst giants. The section of his life before induction is not one that shall be discussed here, needless to say he passed trials laid before him and, eventually, was tied down and moulded as the apothecaries of the Sons saw fit. While it is not known by what method – esoteric, genetic or otherwise – the Sons become so large and so resilient, it is clear that their apothecarion retained the knowledge needed to propagate their number. Indeed, had it not been for gene-seed compatibility and the survival rate of those implanted, their would no doubt have been many more of them. His first combat was a 'simple' affair, his squad assisting regiments of the Imperial Guard, pinning the enemy in place while the Hammer of the Emperor smashed them asunder. Those were good days, heady days, days that Milo would often look back on and smile about during moments of quiet contemplation. Those days would not last, nor fully would his humour. Slowly but surely he rose through the ranks of his Chapter, fighting and slaying whatever foes wherever he was sent, time and again steadying a line or taking the fight into the heart of an enemy. It was during an operation alongside the Ultramarines and his own Primogenitor cousins of the Sons of Orar that Milo encountered a feeling of bitterness he would come to eventually accept; his Chapter were the mutant collective, the remnants of an experiment on the perfect design of Guilliman which had failed and which his 'relatives' would never look upon with anything but pity and often-times scorn. Centuries passed, battles and conflicts rushing past like a blur, when ultimate promotion to the First Company was granted. “Milo,” he was told, “now is your time to take your experience and share it with others, to show them that we are not a Chapter to be ridiculed, detested and despised. We share the blood of the Lord-Protector, and by the Emperor they shall know it. An embarrassment? I think not.” Ceremony and sombre ritual accompanied his receiving of the Deathwatch missive, a shuttle coming for him within the week, and with as much good humour as he could muster he left the Sons homeworld of Genethlios he set off for an uncertain future... [/hider]