Chapter Demeanour: (The wiki and any information I could get on the Angel Guard were pretty limited, so I'm going to make things up I feel would fit them a little bit and the concept I have for my character)
Founded from the Raven Guard gene-seed, the Angel Guards share some of the same qualities as their predecessors. The sharp mind and high tactical acumen; they see themselves as a more benevolent version of the Raven Guard, primarily focused on defending worlds that belong to the Imperium of Man rather than going on the offensive. They are a Chapter that will fight fiercely for a world, especially those on the fringes of the Imperium, often fighting to the last man to push back the xenos invasion.
Mephimedes shares much in qualities with his Chapter. He is quick thinking and tactical mind. Though not enough to have put him in a tactical squad. He always looks for distinct advantages he may get during a firefight, and uses those to outmaneuver his enemies and take them out.
Many would say that Mephimedes has a tongue on him, a man that never shuts up. He's the type of person that talks just to fill in the void of silence while on the march, or in the barracks. Often spouting out jokes or ribbing his fellow marines with the occasional roast and encouraging them to engage in conversation. He does this, on a subconscious level, to keep his mind active and away from the horrors he's faced, as a sort of distraction so he doesn't have to deal with what he has done in his past.
Once his mind has been set on something, it's quite difficult to get him to move away from it. If he thinks a plan that he made is sound, it'll take a lot of effort to talk him out of it, and sometimes he'll just go through with it to his own detriment. He won't outright defy his superiors, but he is known to glower if he is given a direct order to abandon what he thinks is the right course of action. Often mumbling to himself until he finds something else to be stubborn about.
Although, if he is presented with a logical explanation of why a plan he has chosen is wrong, he will accede to the logic and the experience of a superior officer.
Perhaps one of Mephimedes strongest qualities is his innovation. In tandem with his stubbornness, if an objective cannot be completed, he will find another way to complete it or make a way for himself and his brothers. Impossible holds no sway to him; it's only impossible because no one has found a way to do it yet, at least that's how he thinks. Facing innumerable odds in the battlefield, or coming up with a viable strategy to storm a near impenetrable ship just above orbit are seen only as ways for him to flex his creative mind. A lot of his plans work, and a lot don't -- which has placed him in sticky situations more often than not and forced to make on-the-spot wild plans to get himself and his brothers out of that situation.
Compulsive and materialistic
A somewhat unique aspect of Mephimedes is his compulsive need of materialistic fetishes. Whether it be the ears of fallen enemies, finger bones, locks of hair. It doesn't matter to him. As long as he killed something, he has a compulsive need to take a trophy and his mind will nag him incessantly as long so long as he doesn't do it. Becoming finicky, agitated, and even upset sometimes. The trophies he gets he puts in his own quarters on a sort of "trophy wall" which he takes great care of and makes sure all of his trophies are treated to prevent decay.
Bring glory to the Imperium of Man
After having seen a planet he was stationed on wiped out due to xenos invasions, he wants nothing more than prevent the loss of human life due to the xenos
Hatreds and Grudges
Mephimedes has a particular hatred for Orks. Not because they're different, but because of their invasive, extremely hostile nature to take over a planet.
He has a grudge against a fellow brother, Karlack Rockwalker, who ordered his squad to abandon theirs due to the unfavourable situation Mephimedes put them in. He manged to get out alive but has never forgiven the sergeant for his actions.
Rank: Veteran Sergeant
Power Armour History: There is no particular historical significance to be found with Mephimedes' power armour. However, it was given to him when he was promoted to Sergeant as a way to mitigate the damage he may earn during missions. Although not much different from any other power armour, Mephimedes' does have a reinforced Plastron to protect his vital organs. The Power Armour came with the attached note: "May your dumb ideas be less fatal".
Description: Like any Astartes, Mephimedes is tall and imposing. Dark skin with dreads that fall to his shoulders, and a set mean look that makes him appear more hostile and violent than he really is. His eyes are stark, cold blue flecked with gold and amber. Along his body are several tattoos commemorating his most memorable tattoos as well as a tattoo on his back depicting his devotion to defend the Imperium of Man, showing a Power Armour helmet guarding all of Terra.
On his forearms are tattooed set of scrolls written with a vow to obey and defend mankind and to sacrifice his own life for the betterment of the Imperium. The rest of his body, aside from the tattoos, are marked with numerable scars, some of which he doesn't remember how he got, and others with impressive stories behind them.
When out of his armour, he wears a simple green shirt and a pair of fitting pants. Usually considered his leisure wear, and he only changes into robes when he's meeting with superior officers or going to important places that don't require his power armour.
Mephimedes gained this skill mostly from the gene-seed, but also because of his natural tendency to make on-the spot tactical decisions. He's survived long enough and has earned sufficient experience to have made this particular skill extremely deadly in the right situations. Specifically in the case of counter-attacks and defensive strategies.
Rapid fire accuracy
Not exactly the most flashy of skills, but having put himself and his squad in sticky situations more than once, his accuracy with rapid fire, along with his incredible reflexes has saved him and his squad more than once. A skill that has been honed over time, he can be incredibly accurate with off-the-cuff shots. Not as accurate as one who takes time to aim, but enough so that he can get behind cover while taking down a number of xenos within that first split second.
Long distance accuracy
Although Mephimedes prefers close distance tactical firefights, he has training with long distance shots. The capability to shoot moving targets of significant distances and take out more than one in only a couple of seconds. There are others who are far more skilled than him, but if his squad is need of a long-range support, he can take the role with confidence that he'll protect the backs of his brothers. He learned this skill through defending the various forts he was stationed at, often having to repel xenos attacks from the tops of towers.
History: Mephimedes began his career as a Space Marine in the fortress world of Nilohines, where the Angel Guard were stationed temporarily to fend off a series of xenos invasion attempts into Imperium-controlled space. His life as a scout was difficult at fist, especially considering they were on the fringes of the Imperium, fighting off and deflecting xenos attacks. His early missions would often include reconnaissance missions and information gathering; sometimes even being deployed out into the fields with the full Space Marines as a vanguard and scout.
He showed his inherit tactical ability when, while scouting a nearby planet, his squad discovered xenos activity in a base that was preparing to launch an attack on Nilohines. He devised a plan to go in and disrupt the xenos’ anti-spacecraft missiles for an eventual marine landing, which ultimately led to the success of the Space Marines in driving out the xenos threat from that planet.
Mephimedes continued to make tactical decisions on the field, often taking the initiative in his squad until he was promoted and put into the reserves as a full Space Marine. He continued to hone his skills, defending the fort they were stationed in with long-rage stalker bolters, or even occasionally manning anti-spacecraft missile launchers.
Eventually, after several missions of proving his worth and showing his acumen as a soldier and as a space marine, Mephimedes was put into the third company and placed into the fifth tactical squad. He witnessed several battles and completed a number of missions while there, climbing through the ranks until he became his squad’s sergeant.
It was then that a relatively nearby hive planet, Atrilara, was under an Ork invasion. His company, along with a few others, immediately went to assess the situation with reports that the Orks had completely infested the planet and managed to germinate themselves into it. The order for exterminatus came almost immediately – if they were allowed to expand, they’d infest the entire system.
But Mephimedes had other ideas. The loss of life seemed wasteful to him, especially on a planet that produced resources for the Imperium. He advised his captain to land, to at least give them a chance to save the planet before the exterminatus was carried out. He agreed tentatively and sent down three squads, including Mephimedes’, to take care of the Ork threat. They went down and, with millions of Imperial Guards at their side, managed to mount a counter offensive against the Orks, raiding and destroying whatever bases they managed to procure.
The battles were gruesome and led to heavy loss of life. But they managed to locate the plot of lands where the Orks germinated their seeds and Mephimedes devised a plan to drop several explosives on the land while a squad held the Orks’ attention. The plan was insane due to the sheer number of Orks already present, and Karlack Rockwalker said as much before taking his squad back to the Angel Guard ship.
Mephimedes was left with his own squad, a handful of millions of Imperial Guard, and a number of squad-less Marines after their own squads had been decimated. He used his own squad as bait for the Orks, bunkering down in a nearby liberated fort, while the Imperial Guard, led by a handful of Marines, bombed the seeded land before attacking the Orks from the rear.
His insane plan destroyed the remaining Orks and saved the planet. He was given a scolding for his actions but was nonetheless promoted to join the first company as a Veteran Sergeant. Karlack was outraged and tried to protest the captain’s decision of Mephimedes’ promotion, and the grueling hatred between both men only increased.
Several missions passed by until word came that Mephimedes was invited to join the Deathwatch. He accepted the honour greatly and set off to take his oaths at the fortress.
Equipment and Armament:
Standard space marine robes
Frag and krak grenades
Power Sword as a side-arm
Miscellaneous: His squad, while a Battlebrother took to calling him Silence because of his nonstop talkative nature and the name stuck.
Chapter Demeanour: 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 are 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 different, 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.
Personal Demeanour: 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 is 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.
Speciality: Terminator, though can fulfil most combat roles.
Rank: First Company Veteran
Power Armour History: 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 Crux Terminatus 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.
Description: 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.
Skills: 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.
Equipment and Armament: 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.
History: 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...
Chapter Demeanour: Storm Wardens are fierce in a fight, yet honourable nonetheless; whilst their nature as a fairly isolated chapter leaves others chapters with a sense of aloofness and unapproachability, those who do gain their companionship are esteemed and protected as brothers themselves. They tend to spend the night before an action in meticulous planning, sharing quiet camraderie with their fellow warriors, and amongst their seniors engaging in ritualised duels to earn the glory of vanguarding an action.
Whilst they enjoy debate and crafting points to support their arguments and plans, something often seen as insubordinate by outsiders, dispute is a foreign word once a course of action has been agreed upon, as they hold their word to be their bond, with personal honour in particular most important of all forms. To that end, many Storm Wardens will intentionally seek the champions and commanders of enemy forces to pit themselves against, fighting with fervor yet maintaining the tactics and stratagems discussed prior.
Personal Demeanour: True to form, Aodh is as honourable as any of his brethren, though he in particular gives his word less willingly than most, reserving his vows for crucial situations. This could be taken as either less or more honourable a path, depending on how one takes it, with a varied spread within the rest of the Chapter; in Aodh's mind at least, casually offering one's promise means little if it is as casually broken, and thus they should be reserved for when they must count.
Much like his brethren, too, Aodh is quite keen on facing off against grand foes - should a champion of an enemy present itself, be it commander or squadron leader, he will happily pit himself against it without a second thought about his own safety. Unlike most Storm Wardens, he tends to put vows to slay an enemy over his chapter's meticulous planning, and in the heat of war often makes these vows much more spontaneously than he normally would; in the past, he has gained great honour from glorious kills that has propelled him up the ranks swiftly, but has also broken rank to battle an opponent that he feels has slighted him or his squadron, and in one notable instance laid low a particular Ork Warboss who had killed multiple of his closer battle-brothers, suffering both grievous injuries and the ire of his Company Captain, who had made fighting the Warboss his own burden.
With this in mind, it is worth noting that Aodh is not otherwise particularly impulsive. Even in combat, he tries to ensure his shots and strikes are cleanly made, no matter the weapon he wields, and he does his best to pick his words carefully with his allies and rivals alike, though he does have it in mind that he does not necessarily match up to a Primaris Marine in either strength or experience, partially what motivates his aggressive stance against the champions of the Imperium's enemies. For these enemies, of course, no quarter is given nor any niceties offered, and he considers the vow he made long ago- the vow all Space Marines make, to protect the Imperium from its enemies- to be of the utmost importance in all circumstances.
Speciality: Assault Marine - Specialists in melee combat, though in Aodh's case he is fairly well-versed in ranged combat and general tactics thanks to how he has progressed through the Storm Wardens' Companies prior to Sergeanthood.
Rank: Assault Sergeant, 3rd Company.
Power Armour History: Aodh's armour has previously been worn by a succession of Assault Marines, all with a keen interest in closing to melee range as soon as possible. In particular, a previous wearer and his squadron assisted in routing and annihilating a force of Tyranids assailing a world, thanks to their rapid action in taking out the Hive Tyrant controlling those in the area mere minutes after combat was joined, and this rapidity of action has carried over ever since, rendering the user's movements that much more immediate in all areas.
Description: Even in spite of his relatively young age, Aodh is quite a scarred individual. A combination of duels in the name of honour and more than a few fights he probably ought to have avoided have provided quite an array of wounds over time, including a healed-over cut ranging up the side of his head and past his left temple, and a particularly savaged right arm and abdomen after a battle with an Ork Warboss, these much fresher scars than most on his body, and in many places outright rebuilt with artificial materials. Other than this, he is not necessarily striking, with the typical bulky build of a Storm Warden and the muscles to match his melee acumen; light skin presents where black carapace ports and scar tissue do not, baby blue eyes remain aware and alert at all times, and a crew cut of brown hair tops his skull, service studs aside. Lastly, the tattoo of his clan of origin is marked in electric blue on his right cheek, a burning cloud over an animalistic human skull.
His power armour, under normal circumstances, bears the same colours as any normal Storm Warden - primarily blue, with light silver-grey colours on their boots, greaves, hands, and pauldrons, with the markings of his chapter and company in blue on the left and right pauldrons respectively. Additionally, joining the lightning bolt shield on the left is the Iron Skull indicating his sergeantry in red, further accompanied by the painting of his armour's helm in red, though it lacks the white stripe indicating additional veterancy, as well as the Imperialis carved on his chestplate signifying both righteous victory over the Imperium's enemies and loyalty to Emperor, Imperium, and the Chapter. It is also clear to a keen eye that it has suffered damage in the past, despite repair and repainting, with slightly different component makes or ceramite textures on some areas, again specifically the right arm and abdomen. Naturally, once properly inducted into the Deathwatch, this will be fully blacked out, save a gunmetal left arm with scripted pauldron and the chapter colours and symbol on the right pauldron. Outside of armour, he sticks to the typical robes of a Space Marine, again largely blue and silver-grey, with the chapter symbol on his chest, and again replaced with all-black Deathwatch robes bearing the Storm Wardens' lightning bolt shield on the chest.
Skills: Beyond the typical mental, physical, and martial abilities of any Space Marine, Aodh is particularly skilled when it comes to melee combat, and one-on-one duels with heavy weapons most of all. This is perhaps a given for an Assault Sergeant, and no less for many Storm Wardens, but in Aodh's case especially, he has proven his melee acumen time and again in one-on-one combat against a wide variety of alien enemies, surprisingly not just a matter of besting one's prime foe, but of remaining vigilant enough to ensure that a less honourable enemy doesn't attack from behind whilst one is occupied, a situation that has presented itself to Aodh in the past, as well as maintaining the reflexes and agility to evade attacks from both primary and secondary opponents when blocking such attacks is an unlikely option.
As a sergeant, of course, he also bears a significant degree of tactical skill, able to direct his fellow Marines and lesser men toward the best, or at least the worthiest, course of action in battle. To some extent, though, he is also quite keen in wider-scale strategic matters, a side-effect of regular pre-battle discussions with his fellow Storm Wardens regarding all manner of future foes both potential and real, not to mention a keen debater on these and other topics.
Thanks to the Calixis Sector's relative proximity to the Eye of Terror, and consequently to the Northwestern tip of the Great Rift, Aodh has also faced more than his fair share of daemonic activity even prior to the arrival of the Indomitus Crusade, and has if nothing else a great deal of experience fending off Chaos daemons and heretics alike, alongside a keen awareness of what does or does not constitute daemonic activity both subtle and gross.
History: Aodh's life began, as one may expect, on the Forbidden World of Sacris, wherein one presumes Aodh the Child stood out among his peers even in youth, consequently succeeded in besting the planetary hazards and ritual combats of the Chapter's recruitment trials, and was borne to Highcastle to be reborn as Aodh the Neophyte. Several years and many implants later came his first mission as a Scout Marine, a relatively simple endeavour to execute a Tau Ethereal and his bodyguards. In short, slight complications were present in the form of more troops than expected, but ultimately, the squad survived this and several other missions mostly intact, and soon enough, a particularly daring takedown of a Fire Warrior captain by Aodh himself proved his worth in particular to the Scout Sergeant. And so the Black Carapace was implanted, and Aodh the Neophyte ascended to become Aodh the Astartes.
Consequently, Aodh experienced something of a cruel irony when, not half a decade after the fact of his full acceptance into the Storm Wardens, the Cicatrix Maledictum ripped the Imperium in half, and the Primaris Marines first made their presence known to the galaxy not long after, reaching the Calixis Sector comparatively swiftly in the process thanks to the Nachmund Gauntlet's proximity. The existential horror of the Storm Wardens' homeworld being left without the Astronomican and in the midst of potential destruction by the hordes of the Warp might have crushed lesser men than the Space Marines, the Wardens themselves only overcoming the issue until Guilliman's arrival through their innate stubbornness; indeed, through this gauntlet Aodh found himself tested time and again, never succumbing to the temptations of Chaos as some of his brothers did, and in reaffirming his loyalty to Emperor and Chapter alike earned the honour of bearing the Imperialis just as with many of his brothers before him, in his case a few weeks before the Indomitus Crusade finally alleviated the chapter's woes.
Yet whilst daemon and traitor alike did not shake the Storm Wardens' overall faith, it was something of a shock for Aodh personally to realise that not only did he lack the potency of the new breed of superhuman Guilliman presented to refill the Storm Wardens' ranks, strong enough to wield their claymores but one-handed and quick as lightning to boot, but he also lacked the experience that older Firstborn were looked up to for, for they had all of course faced down damnation and made it flinch. In other words, he was practically beneath notice... and it was perhaps this that drove him to such particular ambitions, to prove he could exceed what he considered a lack of ability.
The reality, apparently, was quite the opposite. It took a lot of skill, after all, to repeatedly best foes that by all rights had every opportunity to end the life of a young Space Marine, especially in a campaign as aggressive as the Indomitus Crusade. Every opportunity he could, he would aim to personally kill the leaders of a given horde, frequently sustaining injuries in the moment and, less often, censure after the fact as a result; in many cases, too, he found himself making a hurried vow to slay even lesser foes for the simple crime of attacking his squadron, forcing him to break ranks to finish them off before returning as if no error had been made on his part.
Naturally, whilst the feats he achieved were in concert substantial, so too were the numerous faults in his judgement, likely slowing his rise in rank from meteoric to merely rapid; nonetheless, he eventually persevered to rise through the various companies, passing through the Reserve Companies after forty years, then through the four Battle Companies within the next three decades. He had proven himself enough in close quarters to earn his Iron Skull and become an Assault Sergeant of the 8th Company in his eighth or ninth decade of service, and finally rose to a 3rd Company Assault Sergeant by the Indomitus Crusade's official end, known for both his substantial battle skill and his sometimes-reckless behaviour.
It would be this reckless behaviour that led to the gruesome wounds on his arm and chest. Some time after the Crusade's end, as the Storm Wardens 3rd Company fought to eradicate an Orkish threat on another world in the Calixis Sector, several members of his squadron were cut down by gunfire from the Warboss known as Dreddnort, an undeniable slight against his honour and theirs. To that end, Aodh made his inevitable vow, and charged the hulking creature without fear - and without awareness that the Third Company's Captain Calum Chulaine had also vowed to slay the beast, held at bay merely by a morass of Nobs guarding the greenskin. Nonetheless, their fight was relatively swift; an exchange of gunfire as they approached, and a melee that ended with Aodh's blade knocked aside, and his body and arm gripped and crushed by Dreddnort's power klaw, one blade even going so far as to pierce into the Marine's heart. Even as this happened, however, Aodh's free hand gripped his claymore tightly, and brought it round to first remove the crown of the Warboss' head, and then to pierce it through the thing's jaw and brain, twisted until it fell lifeless and dropped Aodh to the ground.
He awoke from his slumber well after the battle had ended, brought out of suspended animation in an apothecarium with much of his body healed to functionality, but much also rebuilt out of necessity, including a bionic replacement for the destroyed heart lost to the Warboss' klaw. Not long afterward, Captain Chulaine demanded his presence, questioning his actions, and noting that if not for the last conscious warrior of his squadron from that fight, none would even have been aware it was Aodh who had performed the kill. Even so, the Captain was strangely lacking in obvious fury, instead ultimately commending Aodh's quick hand in the face of death, and making it known that this had drawn the attention of the Tempest Blades within the Storm Warden's 1st Company. If a more glorious and honourable path than death as a Tempest Blade was available, Aodh could not see it.
But, it was not to be his path, at least not for the time being. Instead of promotion to veterancy of any sort, Aodh received word upon the Deathwatch's next call for recruits that his captain had, indeed, seen fit to recommend him for his alien-hunting skill, with his physical ability and spiritual sanctity confirmed by Apothecary and Chaplain respectively. Aodh highly suspected that Captain Chulaine had instigated this series of events purposely, as an indirect punishment for allowing his oath to supercede his captain's - whilst technically an honour to be seconded to the Deathwatch, it was also very convenient that it removed him from the wider chapter and the eye of the Tempest Blades. Nonetheless, it wasn't an honour that could be refused, and Aodh did his best to accept it graciously, setting off as soon as the shuttle came for him, toward a future that he hoped would prove honourable in its own way.
Equipment and Armament:
Mk. VI Corvus power armour - Slightly less protective than the Mk. VII Aquila pattern, Corvus power armour makes up for this with enhanced agility and auto-senses by comparison. Also carried are three batches of repair cement, to ensure the armour remains intact and environmentally sealed in the heat of combat.
Jump pack - With limited flight capabilities, the user is more than capable of moving at great speeds across a battlefield, especially toward greater foes than would otherwise be accessible, so as to mow them down in a hail of bolts or tear them asunder with blade in hand.
Godwyn-pattern bolt pistol with shot selector - Standard-issue bolt pistol, able to choose between up to three different bolt types. For Aodh's purposes, however, all three are occupied by standard bolt clips under normal circumstances, simply rendering a "reload" much simpler.
Chainsword - Standard-issue Astartes chainsword, about twice the size of an equivalent human-scale weapon. With rending adamantine teeth, the chainsword can cut through most forms of armour as readily as it will eviscerate flesh and bone.
Sacris claymore - A version of the primitive claymores on the Storm Wardens' homeworld, upsized and improved for Astartes use; each requires two hands to make proper use of, and in many cases such as Aodh's is wielded in place of the more typical Astartes combat knife.
Frag & krak grenades - Explosives. Frag grenades have a wider spread of shrapnel and work better against light armour, whilst krak grenades do much heavier concussive damage in a more concentrated region.
Tempest Amulet - A small leather pouch containing a chunk of rock, fused into glass by Sacris' wild storms and wrapped in prayer scripts. It serves not only as a focus for Aodh's force of will, but as a reminder that any individual can affect great changes through that will in tandem with great strength, all the more pertinent for the superhuman Astartes.
Miscellaneous: Due to the particular circumstances of the Noctis Aeterna, Sacris and the Calixis Sector's uncomfortably close position to the Great Rift, and his homeworld's pre-existing Ogryn population and the chapter's consequent acclimation to such matters, Aodh bears a much more relaxed stance toward abhumans than many Imperials might consider acceptable for a Space Marine. This, however, comes not from laxity, but from knowing through experience where the lines between acceptable and unacceptable genetic deviation are located, as well as how to tell whether that deviation is natural or Chaos-inspired. Thus, he is much less likely to view relatively minor physical alterations negatively that other Marines might find detestable, in humans or even in other Astartes.
Chapter Demeanour: Compassionate, Methodical. The Salamanders are known for two things besides their burning flames; their careful consideration of the actions they take, and their compassionate nature towards the citizens of the Imperium that are caught up in the constantly violent maelstrom that swirls through the galaxy. Lelandros is endemic of the first quality- each strike of his servo-harness or gout of flame is carefully placed to maximise its impact, but the training he has been put through has dulled the latter quality in him. He is colder than the average Salamander, but his fire burns yet hotter.
Personal Demeanour: Unlike many Salamanders, Lelandros never returned to Nocturne after his ascension to Prometheus. Although the chapter's values of compassion and protectiveness were imbued upon him by proxy, the Omnissiah's cold logic and the training of the Deathwatch have rendered him far icier than the typical Salamander. In a more literal sense however, he is far from icy- like all of Vulkan's sons, he has an extreme proclivity to reach towards melta and flamer, his time spent burning out xenos, root and stem certainly contributing to this.
Unusually for a space marine, he acts quite aloof when it comes to his comrades-in-arms, preferring the company of machines over man. If given the choice between a conversation with a chaplain and blessing the machine spirit of a land raider, he will always choose the latter. This, however, should not be taken as a lack of morale, cohesion or willingness to both take and issue commands- in battle he can match an Imperial Fist with his stalwartness. If ground is to be held, you can be sure to find Lelandros's boots firmly planted into said ground, and if a location is to be taken, he will apply every aspect of his training and arsenal to capturing it. Speciality: Forgepriest (Techmarine)
Rank: If he was a regular marine, his seniority would place him as a sergeant, but techmarines operate on a separate axis.
Power Armour History: Like all Salamanders, Lelandros' armour has been extensively modified and changed by the marine himself. It has served many brothers before him, but it was under his tutelage that it was wrought into its current form, green and red mingling together with gunmetal inlays where gold would lie. Although once a thing of beauty, its appearance has been rather tarnished by the heavy-handed application of black, and the machine spirit of Lelandros' armour hasn't forgiven him for what it views as an irredeemable insult. Lelandros frequently has to placate the ancient machine spirit, and more than once he has felt it pull at him as if to complain.
Description: All Salamanders share a peculiar change in their geneseed- slowly, over the course of their lives, their skins will turn a pure, charcoal black. Lelandros skin turned onyx decades ago, and his eyes smoulder an evil-looking red, although perhaps they make him seem a little too much of an intimidating figure. Above his eye gleam no less than four service studs- showing him to be a veteran of no less than eighty years of glorious combat under the Salamanders.
In addition to the honours implanted in his head, his armour also displays an unusual sight. The right side of his armour, rather than being totally blank, instead holds the image of a roaring bonfire, the intricate symbols within showing Lelandros to be a member of the honoured Order of the Fire of Ry'lan. In addition to this, his back is adorned with a great drakeskin cape. With this billowing behind him and the roar of flames around him, Lelandros' form has been the last thing many enemies of the Imperium have laid eyes upon.
Skills: Lelandros has laboured long over the fires of a forge. His form, charcoal and adorned, has been scorched by flames countless times, and each one of these scorchings counts as a lesson into the art of making the broken whole, the simple complex. Like most Forgepriests, Lelandros' skill in engineering weapons of war is impeccable, and his hands have produced works of art as lethal as they are beautiful.
Beyond forging, Lelandros battlefield repair skills are second-to-none. Less-than-gentle coaxing of the machine spirit on his part has brought back artillery and vehicles alike across the scattered worlds of the Imperium. Even beyond this mechanical expertise, Lelandros is certainly no tactical fool. His veterancy has given him similar insight to a sergeant- and if it came down to it, he would have no difficulty in providing direct, accurate commands to other brothers.
History: Many Salamanders share a similar story when it comes to their forging into a battle brother. Born an unusually strong youth, Lelandros' early childhood growth already put him ahead of his youths. In playfights he often came out on top, and he was the quickest when it came to gathering supplies and the sharpest when it came to his learning. This intelligence and strength were not missed by the leader of the tribe in which he lived- a Salamanders Devastator Marine named Agamites. Agamites would see the strength within Lelandros and, with the whole-hearted acceptance of his parents, begin to guide him through the difficult path that would see him ascend to Prometheus as a fully blooded member of the Salamanders.
Although well rounded in most aspects of his training, Lelandros showed particular ability when it came to craftsmanship and engineering. Whilst others in his position were still learning to assemble a stubber, he was hammering out copper inlay for a flamer. When others were busying themselves with flak armour, he was putting the finishing touches on a carapace bodyplate. After he had captured his first Fire Drake and received the genetic implants, it took little time before he was shipped off to Mars, where he learned the ways of the technocracy at a startlingly speedy pace. Returning as a revered Forgepriest, Lelandros would set off on his first true campaign- the eradication of a splinter of Hive Fleet Jormagundr, which, having buried itself deep within the ground, required the sort of deep scorching that could only be found in blessed promethium. In wretched tunnels and mineshafts deep beneath the surface, Lelandros would time and time again be the bulwark of the squads that fought there, fixing damaged armour, weapons and vital equipment, his flamers searing corruption from metal and restoring brilliance to the machines which his battle brothers used. Alas however, these fights would be in vain- as the Imperial forces worked their way deeper and deeper into the planet, they would find themselves in vast crypts, filled with strangely metallic skeletons. The Salamanders would end up detonating the tunnels they had fought so valiantly to clear, buying as much time as they could for the citizens on the surface to flee before the assorted fleets above the surface discharged their payloads- volley after volley of armaments unloaded until the very mantle was rent and the world was turned into an asteroid field from which the necrons would eternally rest.
From there, he would be redeployed to another world beset by dug in xenos that could re-emerge: Orks. This, he took to with even greater zeal, the forgepriest's most notable action being the assistance he leant to a tank column of Imperial Guardsmen- repairing and resanctifying their flame-spewing Chimeras during one particularly hellish push into the Orkoid lines. It was from this battlefield that he was plucked from, his armour to be blackened and his services required by the Deathwatch.
Equipment and Armament: Perhaps the most obvious piece of equipment that Lelandros has is not, strictly speaking, even 'equipment.' His servo arm- a single long, powerful mechanical limb forged in brass and green carries its own tools and weapons, vital to both the upkeep of equipment under Lelandros' oversight as well as for destroying those foolish enough to stand in his way. The ends of these servo-arms can be customised somewhat, but generally he sticks with one of the most common configurations- a plasma cutter/welder that can be used to slice through even the toughest of armour whilst also reforging shattered plasteel.
Apart from his servo-arm, he carries two main pieces of equipment; One is the standard techmarine Omnissan Axe- intricately designed head making the blade look like both cog teeth and flames gushing from the mouth of a great red drake, whilst the other is a potent combi-bolter, made by his own two hands in Nocturn's forges. Underslung to an already astoundingly artistic bolter is a slightly oversized flamer (for combi sizes,) capable of unleashing two scorching gouts of holy promethium per deployment. Lastly, across Lelandros' back is perhaps more of an indication of his chapter than his blackened armour, for there sits a drakeskin cape, the fireproof scales flowing like water with each movement he takes.