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EzekielName: Dale Dimmadome
Age: 19, close to 20
Speciality: Dale has been trained as a Commissar, and is therefore highly skilled at "encouraging" Guardsmen to fight in the face of overwhelming odds, as well as ensuring loyalty and moral purity amongst his charges, specific training to detect Warp taint and possession in psykers, and inspiring the troops to great things with stirring speeches before battle and a stream of battle cries and prayers to the Emperor during it. Incidentally, he is also a very capable fighter and officer in his own right, surprisingly so for his relatively short time in the Commissariat, for which he has been raised up to Junior Commissar as a sort of trial run for full Commissardom.
Gender: Cowboy
Height: 184 cm
Weight: 95 kg
Appearance: Dale Dimmadome's appearance is surprisingly non-standard for a Texanis native, for not many Texans possess the rather pale skin and light red, damn-near bright orange hair that defines the Dimmadome bloodline. Accompanied by pale blue eyes, a lean and muscular build drawn from years of training in the Schola Progenium and the Commissariat both, and a face that would be quite rounded if not for the starkness of his teenage years, Dale is not quite handsome so much as he is intimidating.
This only applies further when one considers his uniform, which includes all the standard trappings of a typical Junior Commissar: a black undercoat, combat pants, jack boots, and gloves; a black-painted plasteel breast plate with the symbol of the Aquila upon it; two Aquila pendants worn on chains around both wrists; and the iconic black great coat and peaked officer's cap, differing from a full Commissar's uniform by being lined in blue rather than red, and with the emblem of a Junior Commissar upon the cap rather than the Prefectus death's head.
Other Appearance: Due to a tendency toward aggression and backtalk in the earlier portions of his Schola education, Dale's body is heavily scarred from large amounts of corporal punishment. Most notably, a long, whip-thin line of scar tissue mars much of the left-hand side of his face, though he is at least blessed in the sense that it has not notably deformed his appearance or affected his faculties, indeed serving to make him more intimidating than he otherwise would be. He has also had the Imperial Aquila tattooed on to the back of his left hand, and plans to have the Commissar's skull tattooed in the same place on his right once he finally achieves full Commissar rank.
Personality: If he'd remained within his father's company, he'd be about as Texan as a Texan corporate asset gets. As it is, whilst he retains many of the quirks of speech from his childhood, his Texan nature has been all but destroyed, and he has become rather a harsh, Imperium-devoted individual - he's not going to execute anybody who doesn't deserve it, and in fact is not allowed to execute people without permission at the moment, but he's certainly not against smacking the daylights out of anybody who might dare to falter in their duty to the Emperor, including failures as mild as a rookie mistake. However, knowing Texan nature, he is quite cautious about doing so too often, as even though he is Texan himself, it's always plausible that some "accident" may take his life; thus, for the time being at least, he plans to lead by example rather than execution, seeing the squad he's assigned to as employees in a sense, with the motivation that they're more likely to work harder if you're firm, but fair with them.
History: Dale Dimmadome was born to Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and other Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts (as the slogan went), in the town known as Dimmsdale, just south of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. His mother unfortunately died during childbirth, and Doug Dimmadome quickly took on a new wife and had a second kid, though it was always the plan for Dale to take over from Doug when he eventually passed away. As the heir apparent to a large corporation, Dale was taught from a young age the ins and outs of running Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts, as well as how to make a proper public appearance, chat to the company's investors, and so on and so forth, and all without his childhood being particularly neglected, complete with a great deal of gunplay. His life, as it seemed, was peachy keen.
Alas, the grinding gears of the Imperial bureaucracy would wind up crushing him. It took ten years to register his mother's death, and then both she and Doug Dimmadome himself were falsely marked as having died in service to the Imperium, which led to an interesting confrontation by some men in official-looking uniforms one day when Dale was ten...
What happened immediately after that was kind of hazy, but long story short, Dale woke up in some ship in the middle of space, on the way to the nearest Schola Progenium, whilst some fat-yet-muscular priest-looking man brandishing a riding crop smacked him across the face and told him to shut his mouth whenever he so much as attempted to say anything, much less demand that he be returned to his home with his parents. The next few years of his life, suffice to say, were rather dreadful, as whenever he insisted upon talking out of line, he was dragged out of class and beaten rather horrendously, though in spite of his twelve-year-old self's lack of awareness of non-Texan guns, he did achieve great skill at arms by applying similar principles to the new weapons he was presented with.
By the time he was thirteen, and had finally wised up to the fact that he wasn't going to be returned home, his body was a patchwork of scar tissue, and his face had been permanently marked. That said, it occurred to him at some point that the harder he worked, the sooner he might be allowed to return home to Texanis, albeit sorely changed from the boy he had been when he was abducted, and perhaps unlikely to ever run any aspect of Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts. And he still had his corporate training and skills with guns to work with, after all, on top of the Schola's own education... at the next Emperor's Day testing, he would show all the makings of an excellent Commissar where his aptitude was previously inadequate for anything particular, and so be handed off to the Officio Prefectus, where he found himself excelling at many of the more vocal aspects of the profession, as well as further improving his skills with weaponry of various sorts.
With but eight years of Imperial training, Dale Dimmadome finally found himself in a squadron of fellow Cadet-Commissars, raring to advance upon the enemy, and in doing so to perhaps advance to full Commissar status. And over the coming months, Dale would prove to be shockingly capable in this regard: where his fellow Cadets died in droves, he would live; where hails of gunfire pinned his allies, he would manage to duck and dive through the firestorm and lay down enough of his own lasgun attacks to take out critical foes, that the Cadets could push onward; and whilst just a few of his more experienced fellows were raised to full Commissars in the time he spent as a Cadet, he was noteworthy for displaying ability far in excess of what he ought to for his experience. Some of his fellows claimed he'd made deals with daemons... or else that he possessed the Emperor's own luck.
In short, he stuck up like a nail in a wooden beam. Far from being hammered down, however, at least one high-ranking Commissar took note of his prowess, and at just shy of twenty years old, he was removed from the Cadet squadron by one Commissar Julian Jackson, and with the approval of an unknown Commissar-General offered the rank of Junior Commissar, in preparation to ultimately raise him to Commissar proper. Naturally, he accepted the role, and was promptly informed that he'd be stationed with the Texanis 63rd Regiment, a fact that brought him great joy, though he was notably uninformed about the nature of the regiment as practically brand new until just before meeting them for the first time.
Gear: Were he a full Commissar, Dale would be afforded rather more substantial gear than what the standard Texanis Guardsman is given, namely a bolt pistol and chainsword at minimum, and depending on notoriety potentially even a power weapon or two. As it is, he has been given the regiment's standard weaponry, and nothing else save a vox recording describing his execution permissions, which in fact he is perfectly alright with for the time being, as it allows him to go back to some of his Texan roots in a uniform that otherwise lacks them, though he laments the lack of rapid fire options in their unique equipment.
Gear Personalisation: None. The Officio Prefectus does not look kindly upon vandalisation of Imperial equipment.
Age: 19, close to 20
Speciality: Dale has been trained as a Commissar, and is therefore highly skilled at "encouraging" Guardsmen to fight in the face of overwhelming odds, as well as ensuring loyalty and moral purity amongst his charges, specific training to detect Warp taint and possession in psykers, and inspiring the troops to great things with stirring speeches before battle and a stream of battle cries and prayers to the Emperor during it. Incidentally, he is also a very capable fighter and officer in his own right, surprisingly so for his relatively short time in the Commissariat, for which he has been raised up to Junior Commissar as a sort of trial run for full Commissardom.
Gender: Cowboy
Height: 184 cm
Weight: 95 kg
Appearance: Dale Dimmadome's appearance is surprisingly non-standard for a Texanis native, for not many Texans possess the rather pale skin and light red, damn-near bright orange hair that defines the Dimmadome bloodline. Accompanied by pale blue eyes, a lean and muscular build drawn from years of training in the Schola Progenium and the Commissariat both, and a face that would be quite rounded if not for the starkness of his teenage years, Dale is not quite handsome so much as he is intimidating.
This only applies further when one considers his uniform, which includes all the standard trappings of a typical Junior Commissar: a black undercoat, combat pants, jack boots, and gloves; a black-painted plasteel breast plate with the symbol of the Aquila upon it; two Aquila pendants worn on chains around both wrists; and the iconic black great coat and peaked officer's cap, differing from a full Commissar's uniform by being lined in blue rather than red, and with the emblem of a Junior Commissar upon the cap rather than the Prefectus death's head.
Other Appearance: Due to a tendency toward aggression and backtalk in the earlier portions of his Schola education, Dale's body is heavily scarred from large amounts of corporal punishment. Most notably, a long, whip-thin line of scar tissue mars much of the left-hand side of his face, though he is at least blessed in the sense that it has not notably deformed his appearance or affected his faculties, indeed serving to make him more intimidating than he otherwise would be. He has also had the Imperial Aquila tattooed on to the back of his left hand, and plans to have the Commissar's skull tattooed in the same place on his right once he finally achieves full Commissar rank.
Personality: If he'd remained within his father's company, he'd be about as Texan as a Texan corporate asset gets. As it is, whilst he retains many of the quirks of speech from his childhood, his Texan nature has been all but destroyed, and he has become rather a harsh, Imperium-devoted individual - he's not going to execute anybody who doesn't deserve it, and in fact is not allowed to execute people without permission at the moment, but he's certainly not against smacking the daylights out of anybody who might dare to falter in their duty to the Emperor, including failures as mild as a rookie mistake. However, knowing Texan nature, he is quite cautious about doing so too often, as even though he is Texan himself, it's always plausible that some "accident" may take his life; thus, for the time being at least, he plans to lead by example rather than execution, seeing the squad he's assigned to as employees in a sense, with the motivation that they're more likely to work harder if you're firm, but fair with them.
History: Dale Dimmadome was born to Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and other Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts (as the slogan went), in the town known as Dimmsdale, just south of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome. His mother unfortunately died during childbirth, and Doug Dimmadome quickly took on a new wife and had a second kid, though it was always the plan for Dale to take over from Doug when he eventually passed away. As the heir apparent to a large corporation, Dale was taught from a young age the ins and outs of running Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts, as well as how to make a proper public appearance, chat to the company's investors, and so on and so forth, and all without his childhood being particularly neglected, complete with a great deal of gunplay. His life, as it seemed, was peachy keen.
Alas, the grinding gears of the Imperial bureaucracy would wind up crushing him. It took ten years to register his mother's death, and then both she and Doug Dimmadome himself were falsely marked as having died in service to the Imperium, which led to an interesting confrontation by some men in official-looking uniforms one day when Dale was ten...
'Are you Dale Dimmadome?'
'Yessir, I sure am. Dale Dimmadome, son and heir of Doug Dimmadome, owner of Dimmsdale Dimmadome and other Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts! How can I help y'all?'
'I'm sorry to tell you this, but your mother and father have died in service to the Imperium.'
'Pardon, WHAT?'
'I, ah, understand you may be shocked, and will want a few minutes to process this...'
'Wait, wh-when did they die?'
'According to this document, ten years and one hundred twenty... six year fractions have passed since then. Our apologies about the delay in informing you, by the way.'
'...but I saw pa leave the house five minutes ago, to get smokes!'
'I assure you, he died a long time ago.'
'Nnnnope, he's definitely alive. He runs the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and other Dimmsdale Dimma-'
'Dale, he is dead. The Adeptus Administratum has him logged as deceased.'
'Oh? Then who has raised me and my kid brother for ten years, huh?'
'Presumably not Doug Dimmadome.'
'Well, the guy sure GOES by that name.'
'Does he have identification along those lines?'
'Uh, like pictures of himself with his information and stuff? Most likely, yeah.'
'...you may be mistaken about his identity, then.'
'Okay, so now y'all're plannin' on sellin' me this story, about how my da, Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and other Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts, who I, Dale Dimmadome, have been RAISED BY for my ENTIRE LIFE to run Dimmsdale Dimmadome and other Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts, has in fact been dead for that entire span of said life, DESPITE runnin' a highly successful company that has its fingers in pies across Texanis for the aforementioned period of time?'
'...yes.'
'Get the hell off my property, you fuckin' hicks.'
'Yessir, I sure am. Dale Dimmadome, son and heir of Doug Dimmadome, owner of Dimmsdale Dimmadome and other Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts! How can I help y'all?'
'I'm sorry to tell you this, but your mother and father have died in service to the Imperium.'
'Pardon, WHAT?'
'I, ah, understand you may be shocked, and will want a few minutes to process this...'
'Wait, wh-when did they die?'
'According to this document, ten years and one hundred twenty... six year fractions have passed since then. Our apologies about the delay in informing you, by the way.'
'...but I saw pa leave the house five minutes ago, to get smokes!'
'I assure you, he died a long time ago.'
'Nnnnope, he's definitely alive. He runs the Dimmsdale Dimmadome, and other Dimmsdale Dimma-'
'Dale, he is dead. The Adeptus Administratum has him logged as deceased.'
'Oh? Then who has raised me and my kid brother for ten years, huh?'
'Presumably not Doug Dimmadome.'
'Well, the guy sure GOES by that name.'
'Does he have identification along those lines?'
'Uh, like pictures of himself with his information and stuff? Most likely, yeah.'
'...you may be mistaken about his identity, then.'
'Okay, so now y'all're plannin' on sellin' me this story, about how my da, Doug Dimmadome, owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome and other Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts, who I, Dale Dimmadome, have been RAISED BY for my ENTIRE LIFE to run Dimmsdale Dimmadome and other Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts, has in fact been dead for that entire span of said life, DESPITE runnin' a highly successful company that has its fingers in pies across Texanis for the aforementioned period of time?'
'...yes.'
'Get the hell off my property, you fuckin' hicks.'
What happened immediately after that was kind of hazy, but long story short, Dale woke up in some ship in the middle of space, on the way to the nearest Schola Progenium, whilst some fat-yet-muscular priest-looking man brandishing a riding crop smacked him across the face and told him to shut his mouth whenever he so much as attempted to say anything, much less demand that he be returned to his home with his parents. The next few years of his life, suffice to say, were rather dreadful, as whenever he insisted upon talking out of line, he was dragged out of class and beaten rather horrendously, though in spite of his twelve-year-old self's lack of awareness of non-Texan guns, he did achieve great skill at arms by applying similar principles to the new weapons he was presented with.
By the time he was thirteen, and had finally wised up to the fact that he wasn't going to be returned home, his body was a patchwork of scar tissue, and his face had been permanently marked. That said, it occurred to him at some point that the harder he worked, the sooner he might be allowed to return home to Texanis, albeit sorely changed from the boy he had been when he was abducted, and perhaps unlikely to ever run any aspect of Dimmsdale Dimmadome Dimmporate Dimmaducts. And he still had his corporate training and skills with guns to work with, after all, on top of the Schola's own education... at the next Emperor's Day testing, he would show all the makings of an excellent Commissar where his aptitude was previously inadequate for anything particular, and so be handed off to the Officio Prefectus, where he found himself excelling at many of the more vocal aspects of the profession, as well as further improving his skills with weaponry of various sorts.
With but eight years of Imperial training, Dale Dimmadome finally found himself in a squadron of fellow Cadet-Commissars, raring to advance upon the enemy, and in doing so to perhaps advance to full Commissar status. And over the coming months, Dale would prove to be shockingly capable in this regard: where his fellow Cadets died in droves, he would live; where hails of gunfire pinned his allies, he would manage to duck and dive through the firestorm and lay down enough of his own lasgun attacks to take out critical foes, that the Cadets could push onward; and whilst just a few of his more experienced fellows were raised to full Commissars in the time he spent as a Cadet, he was noteworthy for displaying ability far in excess of what he ought to for his experience. Some of his fellows claimed he'd made deals with daemons... or else that he possessed the Emperor's own luck.
In short, he stuck up like a nail in a wooden beam. Far from being hammered down, however, at least one high-ranking Commissar took note of his prowess, and at just shy of twenty years old, he was removed from the Cadet squadron by one Commissar Julian Jackson, and with the approval of an unknown Commissar-General offered the rank of Junior Commissar, in preparation to ultimately raise him to Commissar proper. Naturally, he accepted the role, and was promptly informed that he'd be stationed with the Texanis 63rd Regiment, a fact that brought him great joy, though he was notably uninformed about the nature of the regiment as practically brand new until just before meeting them for the first time.
Gear: Were he a full Commissar, Dale would be afforded rather more substantial gear than what the standard Texanis Guardsman is given, namely a bolt pistol and chainsword at minimum, and depending on notoriety potentially even a power weapon or two. As it is, he has been given the regiment's standard weaponry, and nothing else save a vox recording describing his execution permissions, which in fact he is perfectly alright with for the time being, as it allows him to go back to some of his Texan roots in a uniform that otherwise lacks them, though he laments the lack of rapid fire options in their unique equipment.
Gear Personalisation: None. The Officio Prefectus does not look kindly upon vandalisation of Imperial equipment.