BCTheEntity

Persona ~ The Beholder

X - Wheel of Fortune

---

Name
Alina Sanford

Gender
Female

Age
20

Sexuality
Whatever the plot demands.

Nationality
English

---

Appearance

Alina is not an especially intimidating figure. She is short even for an adult woman, with a very delicate frame and rather pale skin, accompanied by bright jade eyes and black hair running down past her shoulders. The impression is furthered by a slight slouch, and a general lack of life to her expression in most situations; it is as though she is, not strictly attempting to avoid notice, but rather not motivated to make herself noticed. Her outfits, usually sharing a monochromatic and/or washed-out tone, only heighten this impression.
Her appearance is mostly the same in the World of Fog as in the material world. The main difference is that her hair grows longer, down to the backs of her knees, and seemingly shimmers with a deep blue iridescence when it moves.

Height
5' (152 cm)

Personality
Alina is a relatively quiet person. She keeps to herself, she does her work, and she socialises as necessary. It is, however, hard to suggest she has any true friends - she's an introvert, and not inclined to large gatherings, or even small gatherings realistically speaking. She does, of course, have her interests, but they are largely personal - reading, video games, playing the guitar, studying European history, that sort of thing. As it happens, her true passions are history, and especially music; it is something she has dreamed of mastering for years, taking her talents to the world with her expert string skills and vocal talent! What a way to live!
But this is not what she is doing. Part of her feels she cannot do so - that she would just fail, that she's not good enough to become famous in that way, and she'll never succeed if that's the path she chooses. Even so, she enjoys it far more than what she's taken as her course in university, but in a way finds herself trapped by that, that she has to follow that path now that she's taken that course. That she has no choice, and no control, a defining feature of her life it seems - and a highly depressing one, at that.
This negativity is exemplified by her Shadow: a glorious, fabulous reflection of who she wants to be, constantly telling her that she can't be that person. She goes the way she's been told, because that's what she's been machined into; she's worthless and interchangeable if she does, yet she's bound to fail and fall if she doesn't. Cogs cannot escape the machine of their life's course - she was born without control, she cannot gain control, and so she'll die without control. The only control she might have is...

---

Persona

Leir of Britain
X - Wheel of Fortune

King Leir of Britain is said to have portioned land to his two eldest daughters, who fawned over him, and left his youngest with nothing despite her being the favourite, as she did not pay him the flattery of her older siblings. The husbands of his eldest promptly took his remaining land from him by force, and his two elder daughters repeatedly cut down his knightly retinue when begged for help. Left with one, he fled to France, but managed to send word to his youngest daughter, who ensured he was properly clothed and outfitted with a large retinue of knights. He received audience with France's king, who promptly declared him regent of France, with the Frankish nobility vowing to restore him to his throne; he, his youngest daughter, and her husband ultimately succeeded in restoring his power, and he ruled for three more years before his death. Truly, Leir of Britain became a pawn of Fortune late in his life, to experience such wild swings of luck.

Skill
Leir of Britain primarily makes use of the element of Wind, frequently using either physical blade strikes or razor wind slashes to attack with. Less evidently, he can also briefly manifest a retinue of knights from the wind to send at his foes... though how many he can manifest at once varies wildly.

Equipment
Melee: Hasta - A type of spear with origins from before the Roman Republic, two meters in length, made of ash with an iron head. Of course, Alina's is just a recreation, but as an example of history, it's quite nifty.
Ranged: Thompson submachine gun - It's a Tommy gun, specifically the M1928A1 model. With a drum magazine holding 100 rounds and 1500 RPM, it's very good at sending bullets in a rough direction. Hitting things accurately? Not so much, especially with a build like Alina's.

What Fate Holds

Enlil

Patron and chief god of the Sumerian city-state of Nippur, Enlil is held to be the eldest of the Annunaki, the judges of Fate. According to Sumerian culture, he was vital to the world's creation, separating heaven and earth to make the latter habitable for humanity, and watching over mankind as a benevolent and caring father figure. At the same time, he was often described as a "raging storm" or "wild bull", was responsible for seducing the goddess Ninlil in various false guises, and even as the prime Annunaki does not control them. Lord of Fate he is; Master of Fate he is not.

Enlil, almost literally, translates from ancient Sumerian as "Lord Wind". Fitting that he commands the winds so readily, as ranged slashes, concussive blasts, and even floods and electrical storms. Like his predecessor, he too can manifest his comrades from the storm - but again, he is not the master of the Annunaki, merely its foremost member, and neither is their support guaranteed.

---

Education
BSc Chemistry, Year 2.

Biography
To say Alina's life has had little control on her part is somewhat accurate. More precisely, she has rarely been given the chance to make decisions for herself - even as her older brother was given more leeway. It is likely that her grandparents had a large part in this, over-present in their children and grandchildren's life as they were: on her mother's side, Grandpa and Grandma Hadleigh were always very traditional, insisting that the kids had to do things "the good old-fashioned way", even if these were less effective than modern methods; whilst from her father's side, Grandad Oliver was somewhat soft-souled, a poor counterbalance to Granny Sanford's controlling behaviour, and a trait that ultimately affected her father's attitude too.
Suffice to say, the three eldest forced their opinions on Marigold, Marcus, and ultimately Alina and Jonas a lot, the Hadleighs often contradicting the Sanfords and vice versa. It never came to physical abuse, but where Jonas, already seven by the time their influence ramped up, found he resisted their commands at every turn (subtly supported by his mother, it transpired), Alina, only two or three, turned out to be far more like her grandad - kindly in theory, easily pushed around in practice. In the end, she didn't get a say in her secondary school, the GCSEs she took, or even her sixth form education. And after all, "Those artsy-fartsy lessons don't mean anything in today's world." "You need a real technical degree to find work." "You're not skilled enough in music to play in a band." "You only have so many years, and you need to use them effectively."
"Never give up on your dreams." The only positive influence she had was not enough in a tide of nay-sayers and manipulators.
In the end, she got somewhat of a chance only when Edith passed away. She had been insisting on a university close to where the family lived, so they could "keep in touch". Instead, Alina chose to go to Thames' Edge University - at least an hour's drive away, if not two or more depending on traffic, and far further than her aging grandparents could reach. Even so, old habits died hard, and her mother's parents insisted she continue down a STEM course. Chemistry it was, then. September 2018 rolled around, and she left without so much as a word, only keeping in touch with her mother and, for a time, her grandad, until he too passed on, to far more distress on her end than her granny's demise.
The year was very stressful for her. She failed to make friends, mostly kept to herself, and arguably developed some strange tastes in her relative isolation. All that time, she kept on asking herself: why am I still taking this course? She didn't enjoy chemistry, and she was average at best when it came to its execution. But she found she couldn't get out of it. She tormented herself, telling herself she had to - she'd never be good enough to do what she really wanted, after all. But none of it helped: she felt lost, adrift, a cog in an expansive machine spinning freely. Purposeless. She hopes this coming year will change that... but she doubts it.

Affiliations
Marigold Sanford (née Hadleigh) - Mother.
Marcus Sanford - Father.
Jonas Sanford - Older brother, firstborn child.
Nicholas and Arthricia Hadleigh - Grandparents, mother's side.
Oliver and Edith Sanford - Grandparents, father's side. Deceased as of May 2019 and December 2017 respectively.

Relationships
To be elaborated on.

Character Theme

Persona ~ The Beholder

X - Wheel of Fortune

---

Name
Alina Sanford

Gender
Female

Age
20

Sexuality
Whatever the plot demands.

Nationality
English

---

Appearance

Alina is not an especially intimidating figure. She is short even for an adult woman, with a very delicate frame and rather pale skin, accompanied by bright jade eyes and black hair running down past her shoulders. The impression is furthered by a slight slouch, and a general lack of life to her expression in most situations; it is as though she is, not strictly attempting to avoid notice, but rather not motivated to make herself noticed. Her outfits, usually sharing a monochromatic and/or washed-out tone, only heighten this impression.
Her appearance is mostly the same in the World of Fog as in the material world. The main difference is that her hair grows longer, down to the backs of her knees, and seemingly shimmers with a deep blue iridescence when it moves.

Height
5' (152 cm)

Personality
Alina is a relatively quiet person. She keeps to herself, she does her work, and she socialises as necessary. It is, however, hard to suggest she has any true friends - she's an introvert, and not inclined to large gatherings, or even small gatherings realistically speaking. She does, of course, have her interests, but they are largely personal - reading, video games, playing the guitar, studying European history, that sort of thing. As it happens, her true passions are history, and especially music; it is something she has dreamed of mastering for years, taking her talents to the world with her expert string skills and vocal talent! What a way to live!
But this is not what she is doing. Part of her feels she cannot do so - that she would just fail, that she's not good enough to become famous in that way, and she'll never succeed if that's the path she chooses. Even so, she enjoys it far more than what she's taken as her course in university, but in a way finds herself trapped by that, that she has to follow that path now that she's taken that course. That she has no choice, and no control, a defining feature of her life it seems - and a highly depressing one, at that.
This negativity is exemplified by her Shadow: a glorious, fabulous reflection of who she wants to be, constantly telling her that she can't be that person. She has to go the way she's been told. She's worthless if she doesn't, and yet she's less than worthless if she does. She was born without control, she'll die without control. She is but a cog, and cogs cannot escape the machine of their life's course.

---

Persona

Leir of Britain
X - Wheel of Fortune

King Leir of Britain is said to have portioned land to his two eldest daughters, who fawned over him, and left his youngest with nothing despite her being the favourite, as she did not pay him the flattery of her older siblings. The husbands of his eldest promptly took his remaining land from him by force, and his two elder daughters repeatedly cut down his knightly retinue when begged for help. Left with one, he fled to France, but managed to send word to his youngest daughter, who ensured he was properly clothed and outfitted with a large retinue of knights. He received audience with France's king, who promptly declared him regent of France, with the Frankish nobility vowing to restore him to his throne; he, his youngest daughter, and her husband ultimately succeeded in restoring his power, and he ruled for three more years before his death. Truly, Leir of Britain became a pawn of Fortune late in his life, to experience such wild swings of luck.

Skill
Leir of Britain primarily makes use of the element of Wind, frequently using either physical blade strikes or razor wind slashes to attack with. Less evidently, he can also briefly manifest a retinue of knights from the wind to send at his foes... though how many he can manifest at once varies wildly.

Equipment
Melee: Hasta - A type of spear with origins from before the Roman Republic, two meters in length, made of ash with an iron head. Of course, Alina's is just a recreation, but as an example of history, it's quite nifty.
Ranged: Thompson submachine gun - It's a Tommy gun, specifically the M1928A1 model. With a drum magazine holding 100 rounds and 1500 RPM, it's very good at sending bullets in a rough direction. Hitting things accurately? Not so much, especially with a build like Alina's.

What Fate Holds

Enlil

Patron and chief god of the Sumerian city-state of Nippur, Enlil is held to be the eldest of the Annunaki, the judges of Fate. According to Sumerian culture, he was vital to the world's creation, separating heaven and earth to make the latter habitable for humanity, and watching over mankind as a benevolent and caring father figure. At the same time, he was often described as a "raging storm" or "wild bull", was responsible for seducing the goddess Ninlil in various false guises, and even as the prime Annunaki does not control them. Lord of Fate he is; Master of Fate he is not.

Enlil, almost literally, translates from ancient Sumerian as "Lord Wind". Fitting that he commands the winds so readily, as ranged slashes, concussive blasts, and even floods and electrical storms. Like his predecessor, he too can manifest his comrades from the storm - but again, he is not the master of the Annunaki, merely its foremost member, and neither is their support guaranteed.

---

Education
ICT and Computing, Year 2.

Biography
To say Alina's life has had little control on her part is somewhat accurate. More precisely, she has rarely been given the chance to make decisions for herself - even as her older brother was given more leeway. It is likely that her grandparents had a large part in this, over-present in their children and grandchildren's life as they were: on her mother's side, Grandpa and Grandma Hadleigh were always very traditional, insisting that the kids had to do things "the good old-fashioned way", even if these were less effective than modern methods; whilst from her father's side, Grandad Oliver was somewhat soft-souled, a poor counterbalance to Granny Sanford's controlling behaviour, and a trait that ultimately affected her father's attitude too.
Suffice to say, the three eldest forced their opinions on Marigold, Marcus, and ultimately Alina and Jonas a lot, the Hadleighs often contradicting the Sanfords and vice versa. It never came to physical abuse, but where Jonas, already seven by the time their influence ramped up, found he resisted their commands at every turn (subtly supported by his mother, it transpired), Alina, only two or three, turned out to be far more like her grandad - kindly in theory, easily pushed around in practice. In the end, she didn't get a say in her secondary school, the GCSEs she took, or even her sixth form education. And after all, "Those artsy-fartsy lessons don't mean anything in today's world." "You need a real technical degree to find work." "You're not skilled enough in music to play in a band." "You only have so many years, and you need to use them effectively."
"Never give up on your dreams." The only positive influence she had was not enough in a tide of nay-sayers and manipulators.
In the end, she got somewhat of a chance only when Edith passed away. She had been insisting on a university close to where the family lived, so they could "keep in touch". Instead, Alina chose to go to Thames' Edge University - at least an hour's drive away, if not two or more depending on traffic, and far further than her aging grandparents could reach. Even so, old habits died hard, and her mother's parents insisted she continue down a STEM course. Computing and ICT it was, then. September 2018 rolled around, and she left without so much as a word, only keeping in touch with her mother and, for a time, her grandad, until he too passed on, to far more distress on her end than her granny's demise.
The year was very stressful for her. She failed to make friends, mostly kept to herself, and arguably developed some strange tastes in her relative isolation. All that time, she kept on asking herself: why am I still taking this course? She didn't enjoy computing, and she was average at best when it came to its execution. But she found she couldn't get out of it. She tormented herself, telling herself she had to - she'd never be good enough to do what she really wanted, after all. But none of it helped: she felt lost, adrift, a cog in an expansive machine spinning freely. Purposeless. She hopes this coming year will change that... but she doubts it.

Affiliations
Marigold Sanford (née Hadleigh) - Mother.
Marcus Sanford - Father.
Jonas Sanford - Older brother, firstborn child.
Nicholas and Arthricia Hadleigh - Grandparents, mother's side.
Oliver and Edith Sanford - Grandparents, father's side. Deceased as of May 2019 and December 2017 respectively.

Relationships
To be elaborated on.

Character Theme

CONTAINMENT: Welcome to Facility B

Blade

'Ay, don't threaten me, a'ight?' he declared, inhaling annoyance again. 'Te cortaré, moza, ¿me oyes?' Even as he said this, he knew there wasn't as much heart in it as he thought there should be. The wind had deflated from his sails - and he was pretty sure he couldn't win a fight in this sort of situation, not when he could be easily thrown a huge distance.

'Euh... a'ight fine, no more violence for now... I guess,' he agreed, not too long before Dolly ran back into the cafeteria- ah, shit. He'd gotten distracted again. And like that, the girl was traumatised, or at least frightened as shit. Still, Blade couldn't just let her deal with it on her own, could he? Uncertainly, he turned round just enough to have her crying on his hip instead of his back, patting and stroking her hair to make sure she knew he was there - helped a bit by the other lady putting her hand on the young girl's back for a bit and soothing her.

'Yeah, yeah, I've got you, Dolly,' he murmured, kneeling down to... shit, was this okay? This was some guy's kid, he didn't want to be mistaken for... fuck it, he decided to cuddle her too. She needed a cuddle. 'You'll be okay, missy, a'ight? You're gonna be okay. Estarás bien.' He repeated himself like that over and over, until she was a bit calmer. You didn't leave an ally on their own. It was always part of his... his code? His code, specifically? Or was that related to something... shit, he didn't fucking know.

But, once she was more calm, he'd stand back up, put his hands on her shoulders, and tell her 'A'ight, Dolly, I'ma go get some breakfast, for you and me, we can eat together out here. You, uh, you... stay out here for a bit, I'll be back with all the stuff, right?' Once she'd agreed to it, he headed back into the cafe. That shit was a bloodbath, and Blade couldn't help but curse as he took a proper look at it all. Real sick and twisted shit that happened here - and given how Dougie reacted to being touched on the arm, maaaybe he shouldn't have left the guy in here?

'Er, can someone take Dougie out into the hall with Dolly?' he suggested, his vision firmly focused on the breakfast foods at the other end. 'I'ma go get stuff for me an' them to eat.' Double-checking to either side of himself, just in case who- or whatever did it came back, he half-ran across the cafe hall to the food aisle, grabbing some bowls, milk cartons, those small single-portion cereal boxes, some muffins and stuff...

...who arranged all of that? Aw, hell. This was straight-fucked, this was all kinds of fucked six ways from Sunday. And he still had to carry it all back to the hall, too... whatever, it'd work out.

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Aodh Cailpeach

Name: Aodh Cailpeach

Chapter: Storm Wardens

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.

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 a red skull indicating his sergeantry, further accompanied by the painting of his armour's helm in red, though it lacks the white stripe indicating additional veterancy. 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 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; so, too, though, was it something of a shock for Aodh personally to realise that not only did he lack the potency of this new breed of superhuman, 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. 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 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, the Captain of the Third Company 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, Calum was strangely lacking in obvious fury, instead ultimately commending Aodh's quick hand, 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.

Static Tabs Do Not Take Up Internet - BCTheEntity's Character Links

Charne Korensky

NAME: Charne Korensky, formerly Charne Artemis

AGE: 17

GENDER: Male

PROFESSION: High-level Acolyte, just shy of being a full-on Throne Agent; psychic blocker, as a result of being born a Pariah.

HOMEWORLD: Unknown. Charne's early years were spent in a Schola Progenium, and for the last ten, he has been travelling as part of Inquisitor Love's retinue.

APPEARANCE: Charne is what might be considered physically handsome for his age, given just a few tweaks - he is fair-skinned, slightly taller than average for his age at about 175 cm, with dark curling hair and bright blue eyes, and he is reasonably muscular for a teenager as a result of various forms of training. This is offset, however, by his tendency to remain a touch too still when not doing something with a particular bodypart, and to stare at whatever he is paying attention to with wide eyes and slightly too little blinking. His clothing options are varied in style, but generally relatively plain, albeit of reasonable enough quality that he can usually fit in visually with the upper crust or lower dregs of a given world as needed.

PERSONALITY: Charne's status as a Psychic Null has left him without the typical emotional responses that one might expect from a standard human, as might be the expected outcome of granting no soul and no connection to the realm of emotions to a living being. Though he can "feel" emotion as a byproduct of biological processes, it is heavily muted compared to normal human standards, completely lacking in extremes such as intense rage, sorrow, or ecstasy, and very rarely expressed externally regardless, though this last part is more a result of his upbringing than his condition.
Ironically, this lack of emotion is part of why he is being considered for Inquisitorial induction so young, as his capacity for logical thought remains comparatively unhindered by emotional responses, whilst his verbal form comes over as comparatively even-keeled and, indeed, relaxed in nature. Combined with a fairly substantial intellect and will, and practical immunity to any form of Chaos corruption or possession, Charne has been equipped with a formidable mindset even from a young age, though he is still limited to what knowledge he has been able to acquire in his comparatively short life - largely decided by Abbot Collan Droht and Inquisitor Incurvatus Love. His faith in the Imperium is consequently firm, yet it is no coincidence that he is not fully aware of the ins and outs of each and every one of its enemies, and only time will tell how firm his beliefs hold given the circumstances of his life.

HISTORY: Charne's earliest memories are hardly happy ones. He recalls snatches of sensation, hunger and pain and such, and he remembers in detail the time several children attacked him because he was "giving them a headache", before a Drill Abbot came to discipline them for their slight, including Charne for "being the same Emperor-forsaken scum he always was". This happened when he was three standard years old. He has since learned that the usual age of acceptance to a Schola Progenium is five or six, and has no idea why he was there at his age. What he did learn shortly thereafter was why he had been attacked at all: Charne is a Blank, whose very being represents an absence of soul, anathema to the regular people of the galaxy. This further explained why, for his early life, the only person he ever really saw was a personal mentor of sorts, Drill Abbot Collan Droht, a Null himself. All others could hardly stand to be around him, never mind the few with undetected psychic abilities who, when exposed to Charne, tended to vanish shortly afterwards if they didn't just go mad and die screaming to begin with.
Whilst he wasn't needlessly cruel, Collan was not, per se, any kindlier than a typical Drill Abbot; if anything, he was even harsher when it came to failure on Charne's part, no doubt affected by his own past without much of a soul. However, this was tempered by something of a supportive mindset as far as success went, and a unique option to focus on one student that would never be available for a regular Progenia, a combination that would encourage excellence in Charne in all areas. Nonetheless, he did discourage Charne from forming a personal connection so as to enhance his loyalty to the Imperium and the God-Emperor, and to some extent insisting he be grateful that the Emperor in his mercy had allowed them both to exist at all despite his mutant condition. As such, whilst Charne did quite like Droht as a person, he wouldn't really bond with him or anybody else at the Schola, a pattern that continued until he was seven.
At some point, Charne found himself separated from Collan, and was subsequently pursued through the halls by another student who, evidently, wished to beat Charne bloody with a chair leg. In his haste to escape, he bumped into the leg of somebody who, by all rights, looked somewhat like a walking corpse. Long story short, after having it explained to him that Charne was a very potent example of a Blank indeed, the Interrogator Ignatius Korensky took Charne away from the Schola - much to the protestation of the Abbots - to become the psychic bodyguard of one Inquisitor Incurvatus Love, a strange lifestyle where Charne rarely saw Love due to Love's own psychic nature, even after having a device to help inhibit his null aura. Instead, he spent a lot of time on missions with Ignatius and Love's other primary retainers, and for the first time was able to form something resembling a social bond. In Iggy's case, Charne began seeing him as an almost fatherly figure, to the point of taking on the Interrogator's surname in spite of Ignatius' protests to the contrary.
At present, Charne is a high-ranking Acolyte of Love's, well-regarded despite still being a teenager. He has survived conditions and situations in his early life that would traumatise other children to uselessness, and whilst he isn't exactly "normal" by any means, he has consistently learned from his experiences both on and off the field whilst retaining a healthy respect for the power of Imperium and God-Emperor alike, and is well on his way to becoming a full-blown Throne Agent under Love's tutelage.

SKILLS: Blacksoul - Charne is an extremely potent Blank, ranking all the way down at Omega on The Assignment. As such, his soul is effectively non-existent, and in fact his very presence has a tendency to drain the psychic energy of those around him - uncomfortable and hatred-inducing for normal humans, maddening and eventually lethal for psykers, and downright terrifying to daemons and other such beings of Warpstuff.
Combat training - Charne has received focused training from both the Schola Progenium he spent his early years in and Inquisitor Love and his retinue. As such, he is well-versed in the specifics of both gunplay and melee combat, associated concepts such as battlefield tactics and to some extent command of others, and general physical fitness and athleticism. In particular, he has a keen eye for weakness and good aim in a pinch, giving him great accuracy at all ranges.
Investigative training - Being that he is part of an Inquisitorial retinue, Charne has also been heavily trained in methods of uncovering information, a fact paired with his innate intellect and rational mind to make revealing secrets and conspiracies alike comparatively easy for him.
Anatomy - As part of his time at the Progenium, Charne learned a great deal about anatomy, not least the parts of a human body that can and cannot survive extreme trauma. This has only been furthered by his tutelage under Love and his retinue, even beginning to extend into the form of the xeno, though to date it would only be the human form that presents an open book to him, moreso for the purpose of inflicting or identifying injuries than fixing them.
Stealth - Surprisingly for a Blank, not standing out is quite easy for Charne whilst his aura is dampened. A combination of his clothing being generally unobtrusive and unlikely to catch anyone's eye, and his own innate ability to avoid notice further enhanced by education in matters of remaining unnoticed, means that he is able to pass people by whilst looking for all the world like he has every right to be somewhere, or simply vanish into a crowd from one moment to the next. Of course, with his aura activated, this is a much trickier task.

WEAKNESSES: Naturally, whilst having a psychic drain in place of a soul connected to the Warp is an excellent way of dealing with psychic or malefic threats, it renders Charne very difficult to interact with on a social basis with no dampening in place, as most baseline humans will try to flee its effects or attack him if possible, and it can furthermore limit his ability to coordinate in battle with allies if they have psychic abilities of their own. This social hindrance is further exacerbated by Charne's own relatively poor socialisation and his unemotional nature: he can present as polite and sincere or stern and unyielding readily, but presenting as genuine is another matter, making it hard to seem like he cares much about people's feelings either way - and in a sense, he literally can't.
He also has it in mind due to his experiences at the Schola that he is, for want of a better word, "wrong", or even "subhuman", even if he's technically only an abhuman. After all, he is essentially mutated to lack a soul, something vital to a "proper" human being, and to some extent his devotion to the Imperium is an effort to ablate his inherent "wrongness" in this regard, even with reassurance since then that his nature as a Null isn't all that bad.
Lastly, somewhere inside his mind is a desire to form deeper bonds with others than he has been allowed to so far, which can lead to attachments which are not necessarily fully reciprocated, no matter how shallow.

EQUIPMENT: Mesh "plainclothes" armour - Whilst he may normally appear unarmoured, all of Charne's usual outfits are comprised of thousands of linked thermoplas cells underneath a more normal fabric exterior. These provide noteworthy protection by rigidifying temporarily to absorb heat and kinetic energy, whilst allowing him a level of subtlety that flak or carapace armour would not. In a pinch, most of these outfits also possess a hood that can be pulled out of the collar and over his head for further protection.
Mono-edged sword - A chainsword's kickback is difficult for even a relatively fit teenager to try and control, whilst no power weapon would find itself in the hands of somebody who is not yet a Throne Agent. Nonetheless, a mono-molecular edged weapon makes slicing through most opponents in close quarters relatively simple even when wielded one-handed; Charne often pairs it with his hot-shot laspistol in whichever hand isn't using the sword.
Custom hellpistol - A high-power version of a regular laspistol that can take out even well-armoured targets whilst letting him hold his sword in his other hand. Charne's weapon is slightly modified with Dark Eldar technology, bringing it closer to par with the efficiency of Eldar energy weaponry, the heat lance in particular; in practice, this lets Charne utilise standard laspistol power packs without draining them at an accelerated rate or losing any beam strength.
Inhibitor implant - A skull implant akin to a lesser version of an Animus Speculum, dampening his contra-psychic aura to let him interact with humans somewhat normally, up to and including psykers. With a thought, the limiter can be turned on or off to unleash or shut down the full force of his aura as needed.

PERSONAL EFFECTS: The only particular personal effects Charne carries on him to any great extent are various pieces of damaged armour, cloth, and stuffing, which he crafts to form modest replicas of some of the retinue members he has come to know in his time as an Acolyte. Specifically, both Ignatius and Devina have figurines so far, as does one Collan Droht, crafted at least to Charne's best recollection; Sæhild's model is in the process of being built up, and he is considering reworking Ignatius' to better suit his current degree of skill in the process.

MISC: Charne does not know who his parents were, why he was taken in by a Schola Progenium to begin with, or indeed why he was taken in at so young an age as to not recall anything before then. His best assumption is that somebody somehow had the decency to put him there after his parents died as a result of his soullessness - all the more reason to be willing to sacrifice himself in the Emperor's name, of course.

Song Reference time

I see no, hear no evil
Black writing on the wall
Unleashed a million faces
And one by one they fall

-Me, describing this thread

Warhammer 40k: Enemy Without, Enemy Within - an 'Ecclesiarchal' RP [Mature][High Casual/Low Advanced]

Civilian clothing would have proven impossible to find for Alexa's frame. Fortunately, unlike last time they had been at the Governor's palace, she didn't need it: her underclothing more than sufficed, the black trousers part of her usual robed attire, the plain black t-shirt normally hidden under the bulkier robe. That, along with her headdress, hip cape, and shoes, would not be coming with her on this journey.

However, for the sake of appearances, nor would her chirurgeon's gauntlet. That needed to stay with the civilian woman who'd taken her place, to ensure the armour she was wearing didn't look incomplete. And that meant that any injuries taken could not be healed until they were back on solid ground. She was left with naught but her bolt pistol, and the sarissa blade attached to it - and as this was a stealth mission, she would not be using the pistol unless instructed.

She was rather concerned, to say the least. No armour, no gunfire unless all was lost anyway - and if they were detected, it was a certainty that a loyal governor would be slain long before they arrived. A good proportion of this was her own plan, so to think it would fail... no. It had to succeed. The God-Emperor wouldn't allow anything else. That said, their entrance was made with a Lighter - not the aerial storming Sister Dominica sought, but not the quietest possible entrance either. Nonetheless, she dropped on to the roof with the same combat roll as her leader, dispersing the impact force as much as possible, before realising that the Confessor had not quite rolled the same way. More of a heavy landing from him.

And then he came out with his true mind: he felt he should stay back, guard their exit point, rather than heading in with them. For once, Alexa frowned a little. They'd be down to three infiltrators if Confessor Horacio stayed back... then again, it may be that a smaller strike force was more appropriate for a mission like this? The point stood, however, that Horacio felt incapable of assisting, the fire in his heart not strong enough to fuel his body. And that was a disappointment to hear.

'Hmm.' She pondered for a moment, as she would likely be the rearguard of the infiltration party now. Medically speaking, there was an obvious solution, but that was reserved for those of high importance- and she realised then, her expression lightening, that perhaps it wouldn't be so unreasonable after all! 'If it would suit you, Confessor,' she stated, continuing where she left off, 'we could ask about a rejuvenat treatment for you after this mission? It won't do to have the agents of the Imperium rendered unable to perform their duties by- er. Ah.' Her expression fell again. Oh, she hoped that didn't come off as impolite; it was, she'd felt when saying it, merely accurate. They were agents of the Imperium, after all. But, well...

'...i-it's a thought, anyway,' she finished lamely, sighing as she turned to follow her Sisters into the Palace with pistol in hand and blade attached beneath it. Under her breath, she murmured 'The God-Emperor Protects,' and gritted her teeth. The Sisters Repentia were armoured in naught but faith. She would have to pray as hard as she ever had to ensure hers kept them all cloaked and hidden.

WH40k: New Frontiers and Promised Lands - A Rogue Trader Adventure

Astropath Transcendent, Choir-Master

Name: Tecca Nina

Age: 51, if she was counting correctly.

Gender: Female

Race: Human psyker

Appearance: Tecca Nina is quite an imposing figure, and through her value to the Imperium and consequent rejuvenat treatment seems much younger than her true years. Tall and slender, she is pale-skinned and in possession of dark hair down to her shoulders, a combination of traits that many men would find highly attractive - were it not for her eye sockets, empty and permanently seared black by the scorching light of the God-Emperor's soul that once coursed through her. For politeness' sake, she tends to cover the hollows with a black blindfold bearing the symbol of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica on its front in pale blue, a neat and tidy covering for a gruesome disfigurement. Additionally, she wears long black robes that cover her body, themselves bearing both the symbol of her Adepta in pale blue on the front, the Imperial Aquila in white on her back, and the Aquila again in white on the hood.
Privately, these items of apparent cloth in fact double as protection from harm. Woven into them is a mesh of thermoplas cells that stiffen when subjected to kinetic energy and heat, dissipating that energy and keeping her safe from harm whilst remaining quite lightweight. Additionally, to those who might somehow think she is easy prey and are not deterred simply for being an astropath, she carries on her person both a hellpistol and a mono-edge sword, evidence of her importance as the master of Edmund Livingstone's Astropathic Choir and indicators of her own lethality if provoked.

Personality: To say Tecca Nina is a severe woman is not exactly incorrect. The life experiences of a psyker once their powers awaken, and especially an astropath, are rarely positive in nature; hers have shaped her into a woman who will not tolerate being made light of by anybody, as in her mind she has gone through too much and come too far in spite of the odds stacked against her to allow such a thing. Consequently, those of higher rank than herself who disrespect her are generally treated with coolness, the bare minimum of civility required and no more, whilst those outright beneath her who do the same will receive naught but passive-aggressive insults, or indeed outright warnings if they go too far - never threats, though, because a threat is uncivil, and implies the possibility that you won't follow through when push comes to shove.
To everyone else, though, she does her best to be helpful, understanding, and occasionally even kind. The God-Emperor's mercy works in strange ways - those who are most harmed are often most belittled, a circumstance she is personally well-aware of, and whilst she does not look back on her past with fondness or indeed grace, it has informed her quite a bit. Thus, she tries to show empathy to those in need, even the rare alien that the Imperium has seen fit to welcome into its fold, albeit tinged with pity and stern recommendations for the many. It is but rarely that this folds to naught but empathy, almost always for her fellow sanctioned psykers such as the small choir she now leads, and to them she truly does act graciously, for it is a crushing sort of kindred that they share. Coincidentally, Edmund H. Livingstone has earned a similar sort of honour - after all, her employment to him is accented by his patronage and even friendship where others wouldn't dare or even care to partake of her company, and so he has earned her gratitude, her respect, and a few opportunities to witness a smile from her, rare as they are.
Her relationship with the God-Emperor is... complex. Every psyker soul-bound to Him experiences the process in different ways if they do not die outright, from indescribable sensations to an enlightening discussion with Him. Some even expand their faith as a result, becoming the self-proclaimed Transubstantial Initiates that irk the Ecclesiarchy so. Nina falls into the somewhat broader category of astropaths who merely experience agony, though the sensation was certainly indescribable, and as a consequence she is of two minds. Was it necessary? Certainly; even her particular strategies would not have worked forever. Did it help her? Arguably; having a shard of the Emperor's soul tied to hers has certainly kept it safe from harm. Is she less enthused with Him as a result? Entirely - but then, she can hardly blame the God-Emperor directly. His agents are far more culpable as sinners, after all. To that end, when she does talk about her faith in Him, she tends to keep her statements modest, largely espousing kindness to others as she herself displays, if only to offset but slightly the cruelties both necessary and needless of the Imperium's more questionable servants.
That being said, to the heathen, the heretic, and especially the witch, she of course has nothing but contempt. Even now, coming to terms with a traumatic past has been a cripplingly hard task that often keeps her up until the late hours, but she at least accepts that the sanctioning process and the Soul-Binding that blinded her was a necessity to keep her safe from worse things. They who would avoid either or both, and ultimately they who would act against the God-Emperor Himself, are unworthy of His grace; at best to be directed to the Black Ships, at worst to be eliminated and forgotten, for that is the greatest kindness one can do them. Most xenos also fall into this category, but she is at least able to acknowledge that if her employer has taken them on board, there is likely a good reason for it.

History

Born on the civilised world of Arteus III, Tecca Nina's early life was not precisely remarkable. Her family was middle class, they worked middle-class jobs for the Imperium, she went to a middle-class school, and under most other circumstances, Tecca Nina would have found herself a similarly middle-class job to work in until her old age. It was therefore unfortunate that one day, in her early- to mid-teens, she began to hear and see things at the edges of her senses - never coherent, but always distressing, and somehow goading in the process. What they goaded toward eventually became clear, as one day whilst being confronted by a bully, she lashed out with her mind, a blunt fist of psychic power knocking the girl unconscious against a locker in full view of a lot of terrified students and teachers. Not three days after that incident, she was taken into custody by squads of black-armoured individuals who would cuff her round the mouth if she so much as whimpered.
The next thirty years of her life could be accurately described as "Hell".
Seven or so years were spent in what could more or less be described as the worst jail in existence. The relative freedom of expression her planet supported was a myth in that grey bunker, as were any other rights the people supposedly had; instead, Nina was kept in a bland grey outfit, in a bland prison cell, utterly isolated from others like her, those who were kept in this place for the sole crime of possessing psychic powers. The guards, at least, had no interest in the prisoners save when they tried to use their powers, promptly being beaten into submission, or in too many cases shot dead and incinerated, but at the same time, they refused to account for the prisoners' needs beyond food and water, a state of affairs that was especially gruelling for a pubescent young girl for reasons that need not be elaborated on.
Socially, therefore, most people in there were not well-adjusted, if she even had any idea about their personalities at all. Nina had only a couple of friends throughout that time, the first a forty year old in a nearby cell who had developed in secret a form of telepathic communication. That friendship lasted all of three months before he was discovered and killed - arguably for the best, considering that every time she used her own abilities, the whispering in her mind grew stronger. She learned the cause of this a couple of years after that, when she grew daring enough to develop her own form of telepathic connection with the thirty two year old two cells over from hers. Their communication lasted a week before he admitted that he'd felt something probing at his mind lately, attempted to convey an image of what it was, and suddenly had his psyche ripped asunder by a monstrosity that Nina herself barely avoided being targeted by too. After seeing what it had twisted the man's body into as the guards carried away the evidence, she no longer attempted to train her abilities.
She was, of course, lucky. She could have spent much longer in there. Instead, the Black Ship arrived not too long after she turned twenty- or was it twenty one?- and took her and every surviving psyker in for transport to Holy Terra. This took ten years in total, and somehow, inexplicably, wound up being an even worse prison than the last - one made of black metal lit by red lamps, a hellish combination that played havoc with her vision; one where the silver-armoured guards standing at every juncture seemed to physically crush her whenever they passed by, even though she knew she was lucky enough to never be subjected to their wrath personally; and yet they and others didn't ignore her, but rather dragged her and others away time and again for the sake of unspeakable testing, probing, and punishing of both mind and body, processes that would have left any sane person traumatised, let alone the psychological wreck she became as the whispering and imagery grew ever more pronounced when the silver guards weren't present.
She was, of course, lucky. Luckier than most, anyway, for her wardmates never degraded into monsters, nor was her section of the ship ever forcibly cleansed with fire to erase a single threat. So, too, could her journey to Terra have taken far longer, and left her truly shattered rather than simply cracked, good only as fuel for the Emperor's dying soul. As it was, however, she remained on the cusp of sanity by tracking her time in there, precise mental markers that anchored her enough to let her keep some sense of self.
A worse fate lay in store for her. Not minutes after she first saw something resembling sunlight for the first time in nearly two decades, she and many others were marched back into an obsidian fortress by men clad in the same sort of black armour she'd first come to know as terrifying, and told that they were to be used for the Imperium's greater benefit, and that they would be trained to use their powers in the name of the God-Emperor, a process that would take a full five years before they were deemed ready. These five years were, thankfully, nothing like as awful as her time on the Black Ship, but to say they were easy was fallacious - her teachers were unreasonably cruel, even having been through the same nightmares she had, and every mistake she made in learning to apply her abilities was punished with beatings and restriction of "privileges" - up to, for the first time, both food and water if they were feeling cruel. All the while still being targeted by unspeakable whispering and imagery, somehow worse than before despite being in such a holy place. Again, she was forced to rely on her internal clock to keep her psyche intact, adding to it with strict and regimented creative activities of a sort - picturing a blank page in her mind, imagining herself writing upon it, and in time generating an entire fantasy trilogy that, when one teacher noticed it, was judged amateurish and naive. That teacher promptly copied the whole thing down word for word behind Nina's back, published it, and made a relative fortune on her efforts.
The exercises, however, did their job. Combined with the data from those tests performed upon the Black Ship, the examination of her talents in the Scholastica Psykana, and examination of her own coping mechanisms, she was unbeknownst to her graded at the level Zeta Secundus - decently strong, not quite capable of protecting her own soul from harm as a Primaris might, but nor a mere sheep to be sent to slaughter and soul syphoning with the massed Tertius psykers. At the end of those five years, she was taken into the core of the Imperial Palace, a golden twisting morass she could never hope to navigate alone protected by giants themselves clad in gold, to what looked like some sort of throne room, and forced to kneel in front of a corpse that she recognised as important for reasons that escaped her in the moment, alongside ninety nine other unfortunate souls like herself.
Not long after that, the God-Emperor touched her mind.
It is quite fortunate that the human brain contains no nerve endings directly, at least for the purposes of sensation. If it did, it would be likely that the electrical and chemical signals coursing through it would induce a constant headache at best, and an unbelievable agony at worst. For Nina, as with most of the astropaths-to-be, her Soul-Binding could not quite be described with realistic metaphors - the closest she could come would be to suggest that it felt very much like her brain had just been crammed full of said sensation-inducing nerve endings, and then shoved into an acid-filled blender with super-heated blades. To say it was pleasant, as some of them purported after the fact, was a strong statement. So too was calling it modest, or distressing. Even words like "excruciating" and "traumatic" were a little weak. If anybody ever bothered to ask, she would likely say it was the single worst experience she had ever had, before or since.
As it was, the teachers merely described it as "graduation". When she came to, she realised very quickly that, whilst the whispering in her mind and vague appendages in the corner of her eye were finally quelled, so too was literally everything else about her sight and vision - even though feeling remained, something made very evident when she was strapped down and the remnants of her melted eyeballs scraped out of their blackened sockets without anaesthesia. Nonetheless, she was practically crippled, and it took another month after that fateful event for her psychic-abilities to take over the role, translating the vibrations in the air into mental patterns she could recognise as sound, and the surfaces about her into images she could position herself relative to. Her telepathy even offered full colour awareness by the time the ship she was on found its way to her very first role as an agent of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica: a component in a major astropathic relay.
For most other astropaths, this would be where their story ended. Whilst a necessity for rapid information flow, the astropathic relays were constantly flooded with psychic messages from across the galaxy, and they were notorious for inducing the phenomenon called burnout: the crippling of an astropath's psychic powers, be it temporary or permanent, often accompanied by braindeath after however many years of replacing indecipherable whispers and visions with an indecipherable torrent of maddening ciphers in all forms. Only those of particularly strong will could hope to survive for any significant length of time.
Once more, Tecca Nina's tendency to develop psychological coping mechanisms saved her: this time, she simply found a way to turn off the part of her mind that was, for want of a better word, "human". Those in charge of the relay didn't want her to be human; they wanted her to be a wire. So, when she was in the immense choir that made it up, she was effectively no longer human, but a wire of thought and spirit, not taking in the messages passed to her, merely letting them move on through her being as fast as possible, and all the while maintaining that mental clock to draw herself back to when she was allowed a break, though by then she was assailed with reminders of her disturbing past so frequently that she often preferred not to revert at all. She burned out sixteen times in the first year before this mechanism took hold; once it had, she burned out once in the next six, and then only because she let that mindstate slip due to a bout of negative memory interfering with her focus.
This improvement did not go unnoticed. By now, she was in her early forties, and looked very much like she was in her late sixties, so major the toll of her life and powers had taken on her. It came as a great surprise, then, when she found herself recommended for work at a much less strenuous choir somewhere near the outer edge of the Imperium's holdings, and an even greater surprise when that work proposal came with a free rejuvenat treatment to ensure her ongoing service there. All at once, she reverted from looking and feeling like an elderly lady back to more or less her physical prime, complete with renewed hair growth. All this, however, would only serve to be the introduction for another trial entirely - granted, not one that would be at all comparable to the horrors she had faced thus far, but something difficult to overcome nonetheless.
At first, her approach into the deeper, less inhabited parts of the void left her wondering if her Soul-Bond was failing. Whispering she had thought banished for good returned steadily, growing louder the further from civilisation she went. It didn't take overly long, once she had taken up her position in the astropathic choir of that region, for her to recognise them for what they were: not the monsters of her past, but the dying screams and nascent dreams of aliens from far before her time, maddening to contemplate even compared to those other monsters of the Warp. They, after all, had at least some basis in human emotion. Nonetheless, her old coping mechanisms kicked in once again: shut down needless emotion, keep track of the passage of time, use the mind to craft creatively- this time, actually delving into and practicing her telepathic powers, to see what creative fashions she could use them in- all serving to keep her on track toward the eventual title of Astropath Transcendent... somehow, though, she found a sort of magnetic pull despite those mechanisms. Week after week, month after month, she kept being drawn back to contemplating, not the voices coming from the darkness, but the very darkness of the void itself, and this fascination manifested one day in the form of a deep chill filling her private quarters. After that, she found she didn't need to lose herself in her coping mechanisms anymore, though she continued to work on her telepathy where she could.
Again, this did not go unnoticed. Not long after this revelation, perhaps three years since joining the choir, she was requested by name by a man who referred to himself as Edmund H. Livingstone. The scion of a long and successful Praetorian family, and presumably a Rogue Trader lineage, he offered her a position in his own choir aboard his ship. It would be quieter still than the one she'd grown used to, and perhaps a touch more dangerous at times, but then excitement was part and parcel of the life of a Rogue Trader! Excitement, freedom, and of course wealth beyond measure, more than Nina herself might ever have access to in the alternate course of her life. Wealth, in truth, wasn't too impressive to her, but the freedom to expand her abilities, and perhaps see just how far they could go...
Her time aboard Livingstone's vessel has been an interesting one, certainly. It transpires that her power as a psyker is yet to be fully realised, or so it seems to her; aside from anything else, her skill in astrotelepathy has been tested time and again, pushing her to the forefront of Edmund's choir and ultimately into the position of Choir-Master after the former holder of the position passed naturally. They are large shoes to fill, but Nina's interactions with Edmund, accommodating as he has been to her, have helped make them feel much smaller - along with the realisation that for the first time in her life she is respected for her role. Necessary, even, in a way that she never was previously. This has done wonders for her confidence in just a few brief years, as has various bouts of training in the use of actual weapons - and yet, to say she is not still haunted would be entirely incorrect. In many aspects of her being, she still has a very long way to go.

Skills:

• Astrotelepath - By far Nina's most notable skill is her aptitude in astrotelepathy. Though she sacrificed her vision, hearing, and much of her former self in the process of transformation- not all of which was due to exposure to the Emperor's soul, and none of which was pleasant to experience- what she has gained in return more than makes up for it. She experiences the world psychically now, as if she were in full retention of her former senses, and she can send messages across vast stretches of Imperial space in relatively short timeframes, a vital process for the Imperium's ongoing functionality, with even further distances made possible in the presence of an astropathic choir. Granted, sending even one relatively brief message is not nor ever will be a short process for any distance greater than orbital, especially with how much effort goes into encoding the most important and sensitive information packets to ensure prying Warp creatures and scions of heresy can't intercept it, but the capacity to do so at all is a rare and rightly-prized ability.
• Sanctioned Psyker - Beyond mere astropathy, Nina is a reasonably skilled psyker in other areas too, sanctioned as she is. All psykers can detect the soul-aura around an individual, so-called Witch-Sight, and may make use of it to elucidate certain pieces of information about them, though not much without explicit training. The majority of sanctioned psykers thus focus their efforts on learning to make use of a relatively selective pool of psychic abilities called a discipline, most practicing with one particular discipline above all others, and mastering two or maybe three distinct disciplines in their lifetime if they are exceptional; Nina may not even have had that much opportunity if she had never risen from the rank and file of the Astropathic Relay, for many astropaths in a choir never have the time to develop beyond their basic telepathic sending and astropathy.
  As it is, though, she is an adept when it comes to Telepathy, wielding both communication- and domination-style abilities for their respective roles of information relay and compelling others to act in certain ways, and has started to delve into the Voidfrost discipline that a number of astropaths find themselves dredging up when isolated from other human minds, with the capacity to shield herself from the void's icy grip in a bubble of air and warmth, plummet her own metabolism or that of a willing target into a form of life-preserving stasis, and even seek out and locate the minds of other sentient beings from many Void Units away, up to and including xeno races. There is evidence to suggest that she could progress much further still in these regions and perhaps others, if she gets the opportunity to continue mastering her abilities.
  Granted, none of this comes without cost. Though she is soulbound to the Emperor, warding her mind and rendering her far more resistant to the whispers at the edges of her sanity, effectively inaudible by this time, whisper they nonetheless do - and every so often, the ward will be strained by over-enthusiastic use of her abilities and the resulting eddies of the Immaterium, generating a disturbing effect in the local environment. Ever since she first accessed her Voidfrost potential, this has almost universally manifested as a sharp but brief temperature plummet, seeding hoarfrost across every surface in a wide area about her. She remains ever-vigilant for more explicit Warp manifestations, however - rare as they ought to be, they are by no means impossible, and if worst comes to worst, old brainwashing is likely to lead to an almost-instinctive suicide attempt even so many years after leaving the Scholastica Psykana behind - assuming another crew member doesn't attempt to kill her first, that is.
• Weaponplay - Naturally, it is rarely appropriate to wield psychic abilities recklessly, least of all those based on altering the mind directly. It is therefore a good thing that she has grown at least reasonably skilled in making use of both pistols and melee weaponry - far more direct is the damage of a pistol than an urge to run out of cover, and far less risky to make use of unless she runs out of ammo. Melee combat is rather more of a concern, in truth, but with proper protection and, occasionally, making use of her powers to support her in combat, she can usually get through a fight unscathed - assuming she's allowed into the fight at all, anyway.
• Trauma Response - Nina's past is one filled with the worst sorts of disturbances, most of which weren't even produced by her power directly. To say she has some serious PTSD is an understatement, and it is likely that this will affect her for her entire life; however, she has developed the means to at least withstand future horror as it comes, especially for long-term situations like prolonged torture and imprisonment. The major component of this at present is essentially to turn off her human emotion and relegate her response to logical and creative thought alone, rendering herself nearly unbreakable as far as further harm goes, but the first aspect of it, developing at some point in her teenage years, was to essentially keep an internal clock and calendar to track how much time has passed, and she has become very good at keeping track of time even under severe stress.

Equipment: Nina's gear is mostly basic but highly functional, focused on quality over quantity in a way assisted by her relatively privileged position:

• A hellpistol for ranged combat, good for 20 shots per hotshot charge pack, and with extra packs carried on her person when it runs dry;
• A mono-edged sword for melee combat, granted typically more of a last resort than intended for standard use;
• Thermoplas mesh armour, woven into her robes for protection;
• A blessed necklace charm in the shape of an Aquila, for purposes of faith and psychic focusing both;
• A void suit, generally stored on-ship in case she needs to head into the void unprotected by her powers;
• Various utility items: micro-bead for short-distance comms; chrono for timekeeping; flashlight and glowbulb for light in different circumstances; pict recorder for vid captures; dataslate for sending, storing, and receiving information.

Miscellaneous: There are a wide variety of directions Tecca Nina's powers could develop in the future, setting aside her ongoing advancement of the Telepathy and Voidfrost disciplines. Most are derived either from her soul-bond to the Emperor, namely the Warp-banishing Theosophamy and divinely-inspired Soul Ward, or from the usual mentally-charged disciplines of Divination and Telekinesis. Technically speaking, however, nothing explicitly prevents her from taking them in more offensive directions via Pyromancy, Biomancy, or perhaps even stranger options, though it is likely these would not be strictly optimal choices given her position.
It is also worth noting that the damage done to her flesh and nervous system by the Soul-Binding ritual is such that standard bionic replacements could not hope to restore either her vision or her hearing. However, such augments capable of it do exist - they are expensive beyond standard measure, and so heavily engineered as to be works of unparalleled artifice in most circumstances, but not unattainable for a Rogue Trader whose fortunes trend toward the stars...

WH40k: New Frontiers and Promised Lands - A Rogue Trader Adventure

I just have the personality and biography to arrange for my lady here, barring any setbacks, and I have rough ideas in mind for them already. And now she is complete!

Astropath Transcendent, Choir-Master

Name: Tecca Nina

Age: 51, if she was counting correctly.

Gender: Female

Race: Human psyker

Appearance: Tecca Nina is quite an imposing figure, and through her value to the Imperium and consequent rejuvenat treatment seems much younger than her true years. Tall and slender, she is pale-skinned and in possession of dark hair down to her shoulders, a combination of traits that many men would find highly attractive - were it not for her eye sockets, empty and permanently seared black by the scorching light of the God-Emperor's soul that once coursed through her. For politeness' sake, she tends to cover the hollows with a black blindfold bearing the symbol of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica on its front in pale blue, a neat and tidy covering for a gruesome disfigurement. Additionally, she wears long black robes that cover her body, themselves bearing both the symbol of her Adepta in pale blue on the front, the Imperial Aquila in white on her back, and the Aquila again in white on the hood.
Privately, these items of apparent cloth in fact double as protection from harm. Woven into them is a mesh of thermoplas cells that stiffen when subjected to kinetic energy and heat, dissipating that energy and keeping her safe from harm whilst remaining quite lightweight. Additionally, to those who might somehow think she is easy prey and are not deterred simply for being an astropath, she carries on her person both a hellpistol and a mono-edge sword, evidence of her importance as the master of Edmund Livingstone's Astropathic Choir and indicators of her own lethality if provoked.

Personality: To say Tecca Nina is a severe woman is not exactly incorrect. The life experiences of a psyker once their powers awaken, and especially an astropath, are rarely positive in nature; hers have shaped her into a woman who will not tolerate being made light of by anybody, as in her mind she has gone through too much and come too far in spite of the odds stacked against her to allow such a thing. Consequently, those of higher rank than herself who disrespect her are generally treated with coolness, the bare minimum of civility required and no more, whilst those outright beneath her who do the same will receive naught but passive-aggressive insults, or indeed outright warnings if they go too far - never threats, though, because a threat is uncivil, and implies the possibility that you won't follow through when push comes to shove.
To everyone else, though, she does her best to be helpful, understanding, and occasionally even kind. The God-Emperor's mercy works in strange ways - those who are most harmed are often most belittled, a circumstance she is personally well-aware of, and whilst she does not look back on her past with fondness or indeed grace, it has informed her quite a bit. Thus, she tries to show empathy to those in need, even the rare alien that the Imperium has seen fit to welcome into its fold, albeit tinged with pity and stern recommendations for the many. It is but rarely that this folds to naught but empathy, almost always for her fellow sanctioned psykers such as the small choir she now leads, and to them she truly does act graciously, for it is a crushing sort of kindred that they share. Coincidentally, Edmund H. Livingstone has earned a similar sort of honour - after all, her employment to him is accented by his patronage and even friendship where others wouldn't dare or even care to partake of her company, and so he has earned her gratitude, her respect, and a few opportunities to witness a smile from her, rare as they are.
Her relationship with the God-Emperor is... complex. Every psyker soul-bound to Him experiences the process in different ways if they do not die outright, from indescribable sensations to an enlightening discussion with Him. Some even expand their faith as a result, becoming the self-proclaimed Transubstantial Initiates that irk the Ecclesiarchy so. Nina falls into the somewhat broader category of astropaths who merely experience agony, though the sensation was certainly indescribable, and as a consequence she is of two minds. Was it necessary? Certainly; even her particular strategies would not have worked forever. Did it help her? Arguably; having a shard of the Emperor's soul tied to hers has certainly kept it safe from harm. Is she less enthused with Him as a result? Entirely - but then, she can hardly blame the God-Emperor directly. His agents are far more culpable as sinners, after all. To that end, when she does talk about her faith in Him, she tends to keep her statements modest, largely espousing kindness to others as she herself displays, if only to offset but slightly the cruelties both necessary and needless of the Imperium's more questionable servants.
That being said, to the heathen, the heretic, and especially the witch, she of course has nothing but contempt. Even now, coming to terms with a traumatic past has been a cripplingly hard task that often keeps her up until the late hours, but she at least accepts that the sanctioning process and the Soul-Binding that blinded her was a necessity to keep her safe from worse things. They who would avoid either or both, and ultimately they who would act against the God-Emperor Himself, are unworthy of His grace; at best to be directed to the Black Ships, at worst to be eliminated and forgotten, for that is the greatest kindness one can do them. Most xenos also fall into this category, but she is at least able to acknowledge that if her employer has taken them on board, there is likely a good reason for it.

History

Born on the civilised world of Arteus III, Tecca Nina's early life was not precisely remarkable. Her family was middle class, they worked middle-class jobs for the Imperium, she went to a middle-class school, and under most other circumstances, Tecca Nina would have found herself a similarly middle-class job to work in until her old age. It was therefore unfortunate that one day, in her early- to mid-teens, she began to hear and see things at the edges of her senses - never coherent, but always distressing, and somehow goading in the process. What they goaded toward eventually became clear, as one day whilst being confronted by a bully, she lashed out with her mind, a blunt fist of psychic power knocking the girl unconscious against a locker in full view of a lot of terrified students and teachers. Not three days after that incident, she was taken into custody by squads of black-armoured individuals who would cuff her round the mouth if she so much as whimpered.
The next thirty years of her life could be accurately described as "Hell".
Seven or so years were spent in what could more or less be described as the worst jail in existence. The relative freedom of expression her planet supported was a myth in that grey bunker, as were any other rights the people supposedly had; instead, Nina was kept in a bland grey outfit, in a bland prison cell, utterly isolated from others like her, those who were kept in this place for the sole crime of possessing psychic powers. The guards, at least, had no interest in the prisoners save when they tried to use their powers, promptly being beaten into submission, or in too many cases shot dead and incinerated, but at the same time, they refused to account for the prisoners' needs beyond food and water, a state of affairs that was especially gruelling for a pubescent young girl for reasons that need not be elaborated on.
Socially, therefore, most people in there were not well-adjusted, if she even had any idea about their personalities at all. Nina had only a couple of friends throughout that time, the first a forty year old in a nearby cell who had developed in secret a form of telepathic communication. That friendship lasted all of three months before he was discovered and killed - arguably for the best, considering that every time she used her own abilities, the whispering in her mind grew stronger. She learned the cause of this a couple of years after that, when she grew daring enough to develop her own form of telepathic connection with the thirty two year old two cells over from hers. Their communication lasted a week before he admitted that he'd felt something probing at his mind lately, attempted to convey an image of what it was, and suddenly had his psyche ripped asunder by a monstrosity that Nina herself barely avoided being targeted by too. After seeing what it had twisted the man's body into as the guards carried away the evidence, she no longer attempted to train her abilities.
She was, of course, lucky. She could have spent much longer in there. Instead, the Black Ship arrived not too long after she turned twenty- or was it twenty one?- and took her and every surviving psyker in for transport to Holy Terra. This took ten years in total, and somehow, inexplicably, wound up being an even worse prison than the last - one made of black metal lit by red lamps, a hellish combination that played havoc with her vision; one where the silver-armoured guards standing at every juncture seemed to physically crush her whenever they passed by, even though she knew she was lucky enough to never be subjected to their wrath personally; and yet they and others didn't ignore her, but rather dragged her and others away time and again for the sake of unspeakable testing, probing, and punishing of both mind and body, processes that would have left any sane person traumatised, let alone the psychological wreck she became as the whispering and imagery grew ever more pronounced when the silver guards weren't present.
She was, of course, lucky. Luckier than most, anyway, for her wardmates never degraded into monsters, nor was her section of the ship ever forcibly cleansed with fire to erase a single threat. So, too, could her journey to Terra have taken far longer, and left her truly shattered rather than simply cracked, good only as fuel for the Emperor's dying soul. As it was, however, she remained on the cusp of sanity by tracking her time in there, precise mental markers that anchored her enough to let her keep some sense of self.
A worse fate lay in store for her. Not minutes after she first saw something resembling sunlight for the first time in nearly two decades, she and many others were marched back into an obsidian fortress by men clad in the same sort of black armour she'd first come to know as terrifying, and told that they were to be used for the Imperium's greater benefit, and that they would be trained to use their powers in the name of the God-Emperor, a process that would take a full five years before they were deemed ready. These five years were, thankfully, nothing like as awful as her time on the Black Ship, but to say they were easy was fallacious - her teachers were unreasonably cruel, even having been through the same nightmares she had, and every mistake she made in learning to apply her abilities was punished with beatings and restriction of "privileges" - up to, for the first time, both food and water if they were feeling cruel. All the while still being targeted by unspeakable whispering and imagery, somehow worse than before despite being in such a holy place. Again, she was forced to rely on her internal clock to keep her psyche intact, adding to it with strict and regimented creative activities of a sort - picturing a blank page in her mind, imagining herself writing upon it, and in time generating an entire fantasy trilogy that, when one teacher noticed it, was judged amateurish and naive. That teacher promptly copied the whole thing down word for word behind Nina's back, published it, and made a relative fortune on her efforts.
The exercises, however, did their job. Combined with the data from those tests performed upon the Black Ship, the examination of her talents in the Scholastica Psykana, and examination of her own coping mechanisms, she was unbeknownst to her graded at the level Zeta Secundus - decently strong, not quite capable of protecting her own soul from harm as a Primaris might, but nor a mere sheep to be sent to slaughter and soul syphoning with the massed Tertius psykers. At the end of those five years, she was taken into the core of the Imperial Palace, a golden twisting morass she could never hope to navigate alone protected by giants themselves clad in gold, to what looked like some sort of throne room, and forced to kneel in front of a corpse that she recognised as important for reasons that escaped her in the moment, alongside ninety nine other unfortunate souls like herself.
Not long after that, the God-Emperor touched her mind.
It is quite fortunate that the human brain contains no nerve endings directly, at least for the purposes of sensation. If it did, it would be likely that the electrical and chemical signals coursing through it would induce a constant headache at best, and an unbelievable agony at worst. For Nina, as with most of the astropaths-to-be, her Soul-Binding could not quite be described with realistic metaphors - the closest she could come would be to suggest that it felt very much like her brain had just been crammed full of said sensation-inducing nerve endings, and then shoved into an acid-filled blender with super-heated blades. To say it was pleasant, as some of them purported after the fact, was a strong statement. So too was calling it modest, or distressing. Even words like "excruciating" and "traumatic" were a little weak. If anybody ever bothered to ask, she would likely say it was the single worst experience she had ever had, before or since.
As it was, the teachers merely described it as "graduation". When she came to, she realised very quickly that, whilst the whispering in her mind and vague appendages in the corner of her eye were finally quelled, so too was literally everything else about her sight and vision - even though feeling remained, something made very evident when she was strapped down and the remnants of her melted eyeballs scraped out of their blackened sockets without anaesthesia. Nonetheless, she was practically crippled, and it took another month after that fateful event for her psychic-abilities to take over the role, translating the vibrations in the air into mental patterns she could recognise as sound, and the surfaces about her into images she could position herself relative to. Her telepathy even offered full colour awareness by the time the ship she was on found its way to her very first role as an agent of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica: a component in a major astropathic relay.
For most other astropaths, this would be where their story ended. Whilst a necessity for rapid information flow, the astropathic relays were constantly flooded with psychic messages from across the galaxy, and they were notorious for inducing the phenomenon called burnout: the crippling of an astropath's psychic powers, be it temporary or permanent, often accompanied by braindeath after however many years of replacing indecipherable whispers and visions with an indecipherable torrent of maddening ciphers in all forms. Only those of particularly strong will could hope to survive for any significant length of time.
Once more, Tecca Nina's tendency to develop psychological coping mechanisms saved her: this time, she simply found a way to turn off the part of her mind that was, for want of a better word, "human". Those in charge of the relay didn't want her to be human; they wanted her to be a wire. So, when she was in the immense choir that made it up, she was effectively no longer human, but a wire of thought and spirit, not taking in the messages passed to her, merely letting them move on through her being as fast as possible, and all the while maintaining that mental clock to draw herself back to when she was allowed a break, though by then she was assailed with reminders of her disturbing past so frequently that she often preferred not to revert at all. She burned out sixteen times in the first year before this mechanism took hold; once it had, she burned out once in the next six, and then only because she let that mindstate slip due to a bout of negative memory interfering with her focus.
This improvement did not go unnoticed. By now, she was in her early forties, and looked very much like she was in her late sixties, so major the toll of her life and powers had taken on her. It came as a great surprise, then, when she found herself recommended for work at a much less strenuous choir somewhere near the outer edge of the Imperium's holdings, and an even greater surprise when that work proposal came with a free rejuvenat treatment to ensure her ongoing service there. All at once, she reverted from looking and feeling like an elderly lady back to more or less her physical prime, complete with renewed hair growth. All this, however, would only serve to be the introduction for another trial entirely - granted, not one that would be at all comparable to the horrors she had faced thus far, but something difficult to overcome nonetheless.
At first, her approach into the deeper, less inhabited parts of the void left her wondering if her Soul-Bond was failing. Whispering she had thought banished for good returned steadily, growing louder the further from civilisation she went. It didn't take overly long, once she had taken up her position in the astropathic choir of that region, for her to recognise them for what they were: not the monsters of her past, but the dying screams and nascent dreams of aliens from far before her time, maddening to contemplate even compared to those other monsters of the Warp. They, after all, had at least some basis in human emotion. Nonetheless, her old coping mechanisms kicked in once again: shut down needless emotion, keep track of the passage of time, use the mind to craft creatively- this time, actually delving into and practicing her telepathic powers, to see what creative fashions she could use them in- all serving to keep her on track toward the eventual title of Astropath Transcendent... somehow, though, she found a sort of magnetic pull despite those mechanisms. Week after week, month after month, she kept being drawn back to contemplating, not the voices coming from the darkness, but the very darkness of the void itself, and this fascination manifested one day in the form of a deep chill filling her private quarters. After that, she found she didn't need to lose herself in her coping mechanisms anymore, though she continued to work on her telepathy where she could.
Again, this did not go unnoticed. Not long after this revelation, perhaps three years since joining the choir, she was requested by name by a man who referred to himself as Edmund H. Livingstone. The scion of a long and successful Praetorian family, and presumably a Rogue Trader lineage, he offered her a position in his own choir aboard his ship. It would be quieter still than the one she'd grown used to, and perhaps a touch more dangerous at times, but then excitement was part and parcel of the life of a Rogue Trader! Excitement, freedom, and of course wealth beyond measure, more than Nina herself might ever have access to in the alternate course of her life. Wealth, in truth, wasn't too impressive to her, but the freedom to expand her abilities, and perhaps see just how far they could go...
Her time aboard Livingstone's vessel has been an interesting one, certainly. It transpires that her power as a psyker is yet to be fully realised, or so it seems to her; aside from anything else, her skill in astrotelepathy has been tested time and again, pushing her to the forefront of Edmund's choir and ultimately into the position of Choir-Master after the former holder of the position passed naturally. They are large shoes to fill, but Nina's interactions with Edmund, accommodating as he has been to her, have helped make them feel much smaller - along with the realisation that for the first time in her life she is respected for her role. Necessary, even, in a way that she never was previously. This has done wonders for her confidence in just a few brief years, as has various bouts of training in the use of actual weapons - and yet, to say she is not still haunted would be entirely incorrect. In many aspects of her being, she still has a very long way to go.

Skills:

• Astrotelepath - By far Nina's most notable skill is her aptitude in astrotelepathy. Though she sacrificed her vision, hearing, and much of her former self in the process of transformation- not all of which was due to exposure to the Emperor's soul, and none of which was pleasant to experience- what she has gained in return more than makes up for it. She experiences the world psychically now, as if she were in full retention of her former senses, and she can send messages across vast stretches of Imperial space in relatively short timeframes, a vital process for the Imperium's ongoing functionality, with even further distances made possible in the presence of an astropathic choir. Granted, sending even one relatively brief message is not nor ever will be a short process for any distance greater than orbital, especially with how much effort goes into encoding the most important and sensitive information packets to ensure prying Warp creatures and scions of heresy can't intercept it, but the capacity to do so at all is a rare and rightly-prized ability.
• Sanctioned Psyker - Beyond mere astropathy, Nina is a reasonably skilled psyker in other areas too, sanctioned as she is. All psykers can detect the soul-aura around an individual, so-called Witch-Sight, and may make use of it to elucidate certain pieces of information about them, though not much without explicit training. The majority of sanctioned psykers thus focus their efforts on learning to make use of a relatively selective pool of psychic abilities called a discipline, most practicing with one particular discipline above all others, and mastering two or maybe three distinct disciplines in their lifetime if they are exceptional; Nina may not even have had that much opportunity if she had never risen from the rank and file of the Astropathic Relay, for many astropaths in a choir never have the time to develop beyond their basic telepathic sending and astropathy.
  As it is, though, she is an adept when it comes to Telepathy, wielding both communication- and domination-style abilities for their respective roles of information relay and compelling others to act in certain ways, and has started to delve into the Voidfrost discipline that a number of astropaths find themselves dredging up when isolated from other human minds, with the capacity to shield herself from the void's icy grip in a bubble of air and warmth, plummet her own metabolism or that of a willing target into a form of life-preserving stasis, and even seek out and locate the minds of other sentient beings from many Void Units away, up to and including xeno races. There is evidence to suggest that she could progress much further still in these regions and perhaps others, if she gets the opportunity to continue mastering her abilities.
  Granted, none of this comes without cost. Though she is soulbound to the Emperor, warding her mind and rendering her far more resistant to the whispers at the edges of her sanity, effectively inaudible by this time, whisper they nonetheless do - and every so often, the ward will be strained by over-enthusiastic use of her abilities and the resulting eddies of the Immaterium, generating a disturbing effect in the local environment. Ever since she first accessed her Voidfrost potential, this has almost universally manifested as a sharp but brief temperature plummet, seeding hoarfrost across every surface in a wide area about her. She remains ever-vigilant for more explicit Warp manifestations, however - rare as they ought to be, they are by no means impossible, and if worst comes to worst, old brainwashing is likely to lead to an almost-instinctive suicide attempt even so many years after leaving the Scholastica Psykana behind - assuming another crew member doesn't attempt to kill her first, that is.
• Weaponplay - Naturally, it is rarely appropriate to wield psychic abilities recklessly, least of all those based on altering the mind directly. It is therefore a good thing that she has grown at least reasonably skilled in making use of both pistols and melee weaponry - far more direct is the damage of a pistol than an urge to run out of cover, and far less risky to make use of unless she runs out of ammo. Melee combat is rather more of a concern, in truth, but with proper protection and, occasionally, making use of her powers to support her in combat, she can usually get through a fight unscathed - assuming she's allowed into the fight at all, anyway.
• Trauma Response - Nina's past is one filled with the worst sorts of disturbances, most of which weren't even produced by her power directly. To say she has some serious PTSD is an understatement, and it is likely that this will affect her for her entire life; however, she has developed the means to at least withstand future horror as it comes, especially for long-term situations like prolonged torture and imprisonment. The major component of this at present is essentially to turn off her human emotion and relegate her response to logical and creative thought alone, rendering herself nearly unbreakable as far as further harm goes, but the first aspect of it, developing at some point in her teenage years, was to essentially keep an internal clock and calendar to track how much time has passed, and she has become very good at keeping track of time even under severe stress.

Equipment: Nina's gear is mostly basic but highly functional, focused on quality over quantity in a way assisted by her relatively privileged position:

• A hellpistol for ranged combat, good for 20 shots per hotshot charge pack, and with extra packs carried on her person when it runs dry;
• A mono-edged sword for melee combat, granted typically more of a last resort than intended for standard use;
• Thermoplas mesh armour, woven into her robes for protection;
• A blessed necklace charm in the shape of an Aquila, for purposes of faith and psychic focusing both;
• A void suit, generally stored on-ship in case she needs to head into the void unprotected by her powers;
• Various utility items: micro-bead for short-distance comms; chrono for timekeeping; flashlight and glowbulb for light in different circumstances; pict recorder for vid captures; dataslate for sending, storing, and receiving information.

Miscellaneous: There are a wide variety of directions Tecca Nina's powers could develop in the future, setting aside her ongoing advancement of the Telepathy and Voidfrost disciplines. Most are derived either from her soul-bond to the Emperor, namely the Warp-banishing Theosophamy and divinely-inspired Soul Ward, or from the usual mentally-charged disciplines of Divination and Telekinesis. Technically speaking, however, nothing explicitly prevents her from taking them in more offensive directions via Pyromancy, Biomancy, or perhaps even stranger options, though it is likely these would not be strictly optimal choices given her position.
It is also worth noting that the damage done to her flesh and nervous system by the Soul-Binding ritual is such that standard bionic replacements could not hope to restore either her vision or her hearing. However, such augments capable of it do exist - they are expensive beyond standard measure, and so heavily engineered as to be works of unparalleled artifice in most circumstances, but not unattainable for a Rogue Trader whose fortunes trend toward the stars...

@ShwiggityShwah If it helps, try looking up Explorators. They're the Tech-priests who are intentionally going out into the wider galaxy in search of STC templates.

Delete this

With all due respect, you needed to calm down half an hour ago, Blizz. You're going to think what I'm saying is meaningless, clearly, but like goodmode said, you have majorly misinterpreted what I put down in writing, and now the evidence of what I actually wrote has been blown to Hell, along with every other piece of content. So, you know. Thanks for doing that to everyone on the sidelines.