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Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

@PripovednikAye, ah ken ol' Gallae, frae thare yersel?

Death=][=Watch - A 40K (high casual/low advanced) Deathwatch RP

I'll make this quick, simple and straightforward...much like this RP will probably be!

In this RP, as you might already expect, you will be taking on the role of one of the finest of the Emperor's finest (or attached Sororitas, if you like!), role-playing as one of the most elite members of the Adeptus Astartes in a kill-team of some 5-6 people - though I'm willing to go with as little as 4.

As opposed to, say, Rogue Trader or Dark Heresy, everything about DW is fixed on creating a setting of elite warriors fighting/exterminating/carrying out the Emperor's Will against enemies of equal or greater strength. However, missions may be as mundane as hostage extraction - achieving what the Imperial Guard cannot - or as brutal as decaptiating an Ork warboss in the middle of his Waaagh!

Throughout all of this, it will be the participant/players duty to keep track of their marine et al; should they lose a limb, note it down, or should they achieve something amazing, then note it down and so forth.

Lastly, I'm not looking for perfect grammar or essay-length posts, but I would certainly prefer some quality in the posts; it is quite hard to write a Space Marine as anything other than an unsinkable wrecking machine who can take out billions by himself, but one only needs to read some novels of Dan Abnett & co to realise that it can be done.

So, anyone, anyone at all, up for our first mission? If interested, please step forward!

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

Armadeus Crotwell - Master of Coin - Lone Wanderer

>Imperial Records, File found: Armadeus Crotwell<br>>PROCESSING

(I would just like to point out, that while I've been working on this CS, I have not had a look at other CS's and any similarities are just circumstance rather than anything else. It is now, that I've just spotted that there is another gentlemen, rather than changing my own characters personality however I think it might be interesting to keep it. But I can should it be wished.)

Name: Armadeus Crotwell

Age: 48

Gender: Male

Race: Human

Appearance: Clad in a fine green coat adorned with thick red cuffs and linings and topped with a high collar that when parted reveals a breastplate of Carapace. A white sash crosses across his right shoulder and around his left hip where it meets a leather belt, the wings of an Aquilla don the buckle as a Maul, held firmly by leather straps hangs at it's side. His is an appearance that screams nobility. That is of-course until on closer inspection, when one notices the light muck and grime marking said cuffs and brown boots. The slight charred patches that can only be caused by the close shave of a lasgun, the slight bulge within his coat against his chest hiding a bolt pistol, and the slight whirring of his left bionic arm as it moves. One can only assume this man has seen action. However, the man carries himself more like a scholar, back straight and dignified rather than any veteran of any war.
Armadeus's face is that of a weathered man, featuring a strong jaw as a scar runs along his right cheek bone, framed with white, receding hair that meets a rough stubble covering the lower portion of his face. Bright green eyes that reveal an intelligence, combine for a generally "no shit" look that is belied only by his grin and when he speaks, which bleeds of a higher education.

Personality: A gentleman through and through. Well learned despite his rugged appearance and a politeness not often found in this grim verse of ours. One can always expect Armadeus to maintain his own sense of bendable etiquette and likable charisma. Ever the Consummate Gentleman, he can be found consorting with a variety of company, from the rich aristocracy to the lowest hiver. However, bubbling below the surface is a torrent of emotion which changes like a storm. This underside is just kept in check, rarely though do these emotions manage to break the masquerade of someone better than himself, which he wears like a mask.

History:

Skills:
The right hand man of his last ship's captain, otherwise known as the Seneschal. It was his charge to be the one that oversaw the finance and overall running of the ship, to ensure throne gelt went where it was needed without anomalies whilst also dealing most often with any business transactions that might occur. However, it was also his to keep his fellow crew's less desirable information from becoming known as well as searching for information that might be used against his enemies. As Seneschal, Armadeus knows his trade, knowing just how to squeeze that last throne gelt from someone whilst uncovering their darkest secrets. As those skilled in war protect the crew and ship physically, he ensures the coins are efficiently spent and protects it's reputation, that is not to say that Armadeus can not fight himself. Having taken part in several boarding engagements in his time, he can handle himself in a fight. Almost competent even...

Equipment:
- Bolt Pistol (Something smaller perhaps?)
- Maul
- Carapace Breastplate
- Dataslate
- Quill
- Several pieces of paper
- Chrono - Small timepiece.
- Glow-globe - Roughly the size of a clenched fist, the globe acts as a light, illuminating a small area of up to a dozen or so meters around it. Lasts roughly 5 hours of use before the powerpack requires recharging or replacing.
- Micro-bead - Also known as a Bead-comm, these small devices are worn discreetly in the ear and allow for short-range communications out to roughly 1 kilometer with anyone using the same frequency.

Miscellaneous:
Armadeus's Bionic arm was not implanted by a... Let's say legal Doc, and so can be problematic at times.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

Gravius Pemelton - Navigator on the run - agentmanatee

Gravius Pemelton

Name- Gravius of house Pemelton

Age: 328 Terran years

Gender: Male

Race: Human (Navigator mutant)

Appearance: Gravius is a Navigator of increasing age, his hair has grayed and wrinkles have formed on his face, though he stands straight and tall. Long years spent on star ships have given him pale gray skin.

His eyes are all blue, though his warp eye has begun darkening as he has grown in age and power. His face is clean shaven, his eyebrows are thin and well trimmed. The hair on his head is curiously cut, the sides are largely shaved but the hair on top has been kept thick, his long bangs are brushed to the left side of his face. His teeth are white and similarly well cleaned.

Gravius is around 5'10, being just below average height. His body is healthy, and he cuts a more imposing figure than most Navigators. He wears a thick robe with sleeves and hood the color of gold with a silver border, and whose body is black. These are the colors of the Navis Nobilite House Pemelton. He carries a Navigator staff at all times, and beneath the folds of his robes he carries an ornate auto-pistol in a Red leather holster that hangs at his waste. The sleeves also both have a row of imperial skulls just above the edge of the sleeves.

His face is most often either serious or scowling, the closes to a smile is a look of smug certainty. The man is rarely seen smiling, his job being what it is.

Personality: Gravius is an intensely proud and bombastic man, raised up from birth and taught of his innate superiority to the common man. Utterly infatuated with his own abilities, Gravius takes little criticism of his work often flying off the handle if someone doubts his skill or mental fortitude. He is so completely absorbed in his own inflated sense of self importance that he often overlooks the work of others, and ignores any part of a ships running but his own personal task. He sees his job as Navigator as a sort of ultimate or holy work, which lends him to take it extremely seriously, some would say a bit to seriously. He often considers ordinary crew to be little more than annoying necessities, who are utterly beneath his notice so long as they don't get in his way.

History: Gravius was not born like most men in the Imperium. He was no hive worker's son, nor was he a planetary noble or Imperial guard officer's son. Gravius was born a Navigator forever set apart from his fellow man, a fact he has been reminded of everyday of his life. From the day he was born on Terra Gravius's path in life was determined, his role in the Imperium decided because of the eye in the center of his forehead. As soon as he could talk Gravius was taught that he was different from regular humans, different and superior. A Navigator's holy mission is to guide the ships of the Imperium through the immaterium, using the brilliant beacon of the Astronomicon to safely steer a ship through the warp.

Gravius was a talented student, and mastered the basic skills a Navigator must have at age 27, and at the age of 38 he embarked on his first ship. House Pemelton has many connections amongst imperial trade, and Gravius guided many prestigious merchants and their cargo through the warp. Though his temper got the best of him often, and he looked down on all who were not Navigators, he was an exceptional Navigator. And so it went for about a century, and could have remained that way... had Gravius not stumbled on to something terrible.

Near the beginning of his second century of distinguished service Gravius stumbled upon a mysterious string of payments between house Pemelton and several more unscrupulous and suspicious individuals. For the better part of a century Gravius followed the paper trail, quietly gathering information and investigating connections to his house. As he delved further and further into the rabbit hole the terrible truth began to dawn on him, house Pemelton was quietly and secretly supporting the agents of Chaos! Gravius no longer knew who he could trust, so he doubled back, following the intricate trail of illicit secret meetings and less than upstanding deals, until he found who he believed to be the center of it all.

The Navigator who Gravius believed was in charge of the operation was a well known and highly respected man. Gravius decided to confront him personally and in private for fear of bringing the house under investigation by outside forces. When confronted the other Navigator denied Gravius's accusations vehemently, and even assaulted Gravius's own merit as a Navigator, claiming that the warp had softened his mind. Gravius flew into a rage, and what had begun as a quiet affair turned into a deadly Navigator duel. Gravius slew the other man, utterly convinced that he was in the right. Gravius was apprehended by other Navigators of house Pemelton and brought before the Novator for trial.

It was decided that Gravius was to skilled a Navigator for him to simply be killed, so it was decided that in order for the name of House Pemelton to remain unblemished Gravius was exiled. He was sent to the Kronos expanse, for no one believed his tale of heretics, for how could such a man as the one Gravius had killed fallen to chaos? He was seno off, considered a mad man by his own house.

Since then, Gravius has joined the crew of the Rouge trader Horatio Drake. Only recently has he joined the man's crew, and now they move for the Kronus expanse to aquire more men and women for Drake's crew.

Skills: Gravius's main skills are his extensive Navigator powers

Baleful watcher- Allows a Navigator to guide through thick warp storms, as well as peer into ones very soul

A cloud in the warp- Allows Navigators to obscure their craft from those who would prey on it in the warp

Eye of Oblivion- A Navigator snaps open his third eye, amd attacks a creatures very essence

Immolate the soul- The Navigator channels the raw power of the immaterium, causing flesh to blister and combust

Inward view- Induces a psychic state of meditation

Precognition- Allows Navigators to interpret portents of the Emperor's tarot


Void watcher- Allows Navigators to see threats to their ship nearby

A link to these powers
http://warhammer40k.wikia.com/wiki/Navigator

Equipment: Emperor's tarot deck, auto-pistol, Navigators staff, prayer beads

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

@PripovednikNot sure where many of the fawk are frae on here, whaur are ye frae than, Privo?

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

Dagmar Rygh - You call that a knife?! - Pripovednik

The Dagger

Name:
Dagmar Rygh
The Dagger

Age:
26

Gender:
Male

Race:
Human

Appearance:
A thick, strong and dark leather armoured jacket sits comfortably on the wide shoulders of this man, beneath it hides a flak vest. The jackets high necked collar hugs his muscular neck close and teases the bottom of his pierced ears, rumpling and hanging slightly forward at his bearded chin. Said collar is, on occasion, pulled up to cover this mans mouth and nose completely.

This mans mouth is narrow and its lips dark, the white teeth behind them stand straight and to attention, just as his hair is – infinitely dark hairs atop his head in a short Mohawk. His thin nose slices through his masculine features in the centre of his face, small nostrils and slightly pointed tip, the only hint of fairness about him. Scars adorned his tanned skins, writhing from his crown, meandering around his Mohawk in thick streams to end at his forehead in sharp points.

If you were to free your attention from his ensnaring and piercing stare, ripping free from his pale blue eyes and furious eyebrows, you will see that the afore mentioned jacket has sleeves down to this mans hands, which take refugee in black fingerless gloves. The knuckles of the gloves exhibit sharp but short metal blades.

Looking past his upper body and its praiseworthy physique you will see that, like his jacket, his legs are covered in a strong and dark leather. Both knees are bolstered by an extra thick layered plate, at his ankle the trousers end, tied tightly and narrowed. This mans boots are black and the laces pulled back until his feet have no chance of escape, a metal plate stretches around the toes.

On the outside of each athletic leg are two dagger sheaths, making four in total. In each a straight blade sits snugly, the handles a pale grey. Over this mans shoulder is a sword handle leading to a long sharp blade in a holster. With a slight curve at its central ridge and a sharp cross guard, the blade is impressive.

On his wide shoulders are two other slightly larger sheaths, these are curved completely as the blades inside are, medium sized blades with crimson pummels and interchangeable grips.

Among all these blades a crossbow sits sideways on the back of his belt, three metal bolts strapped to its barrel, all of them with a distinct blade tip and trailing rope.

This man is sharp, this man is deadly, this man is Dagmar Rygh – The Dagger.

Personality:
Dagmar is not one that respects weakness, far from it in fact. He dislikes, or perhaps hates is the right word, anyone who brings harm to the innocent and undeserving - no more so than chaos. After the death and loss of all that he knows, Dagmar plays his past close to his chest, instead choosing to live his life as if it started on the Governors company above his home planet. With very little motivation other than to live to continue ripping evil from the universe, Dagmar tries to grow on himself in this way.

When interacting with others Dagmar listens silently and replies thoughtfully, saving the recipient from any lashing or impulsive reactions most feral worlders would give - sometimes he reads too deep into things.

History:
Dagmar was born on a feral world, where he grew up among the other male warriors, exposed to blood and grit, he could hunt by the age of seven. As it was on his world, his parents died young to illness, he replaced his fathers position in the raiding party at age fourteen. When he came of age Dagmar tied with a female named Tulie, they had five children, four of which died before they could talk.

The fifth was named Luj'ra after his father and was a strong young boy.

On the Day of the Dark, a solar eclipse, chaos' taint corrupted the warriors of the tribe and turned them on their own. Out hunting with the hunting elites on this exceptional Day of Dark, the small group returned to a horrific scene of death and fire. The warriors had slaughtered the tribe and their bodies decorated the floors and walls, a few still fought among each other, an indescribable evil surrounded them as they sparred in front of the flaming buildings.

Charging enraged into battle with his hunter brothers, Dagmar sliced his way through two of the corrupted to his hut, shifting through the embers and dying flames. Quickly he burst into the central room to find his son, blade in hand, stood over the cold body of his mother.

Slowly he approached the scene, and as he reached out to take the blade from the boy, he spun and struck out. Blocking blow after blow from his son, tears ebbed at his eyes and his hands ached at every parry. After what seemed like hours of this torture, having to look into his murderous sons eyes, one parry sent the small blade flying away.

Quickly he grabbed his son, bear hugging him close telling to calm himself, but the boy broke free and grabbed at a splintered wooden beam. Scarping the tip along his fathers scalp, Dagmar's blood mixed with his tears as he struggled with his son, falling down he held him above him, his arms flailing to strike his face.

Unknown to him, one of his hunting party had walked in on this situation, and not knowing who fought with his leader, stabbed out with his spear. Dagmar held his son above him as he had when he was an infant, their blood stained his shirt, and he watched as the life dripped forth from the wound.

Walking with Luj'ra in his arms, Dagmars feet dragged out into the village centre as a small shuttle burst through the clouds. The imperial soldiers watched on as he buried his son in the dirt, they burnt everything that they could and broke with they couldn't. Only he and a few others had survived, the gaurds demanded they be interrogated and tested for any lingering chaos.

After interrogation the planetary governor took a liking to Dagmar and empathised to his story, hiring him as a middle man for negotiations between him and the world below, and later as a personal body guard. After 5 loyal years protecting Mathias from those who would see him dead, one particular woman came closer than all the others. What Dagmar had thought to be a veteran hand help, was infarct the incredibly long and intricate camouflage of an assassin.

Dagmar had his suspicion when she derailed a celebratory meal for her own menu of food, when she returned to the kitchen after setting out the first course, Dagmar took a mouthful before Mathias did. At first the taste was pleasant and of sweet berries, he savoured it momentarily with pleasure. Very suddenly it burnt and singed and before he knew it the insides of his mouth were on fire.

Spitting the contents out, his teeth were all but corroded and his tongue and gums ripped and raw, moaning in pain he chased the would be killer into the storage room where he found them readying a side arm, he subdued her and brought her to Mathias.

Having saved his life, Mathias gave Dagmar his freedom and wealth as well as surgery to fix his mouth and his scars upon his head. Dagmar accepted the repairing of his mouth but chose to keep his scars as a reminder of his past. Dagmar refused much of the privileges, he would rather it was spent on those below him, those that knew of the loss he had been stricken with.

Dagmar sought to rid his soul of this overwhelming rage and sorrow, and so found comfort in mercenary work. His latest contract was successful and he now rests at Outpost 57, inspecting him spoils.

Skills:
Dagmar is a master with a blade, throwing, stabbing or slashing – you name it. A side from that he is above average at acrobatics, very athletic and lean as well as a proficient tracker. All of these skills he acquired while on his home world, hunting, fighting and running.

Skills learnt while off planet include spot assisting, rogue-like activity such as spying and sneaking and a proficiency with poisons.

Poison proficiency: Basic and some alternative ingredients are used to make poisons, delayed poisons and narcotics.

Equipment:
Auspex/Scanner (left eye adjustable)
3 satchels of assorted concoction and poison (2 vials each pouch, metal containers non-labelled)
Micro-bead communications system
Distortion Field – Grants a crude invisibility at long ranges and a confusing mirage up close

Miscellaneous:
Do not touch Dagmar's blades without his permission, he dislikes this profusely.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

@agentmanatee@PripovednikAs far as I'm concerned, you're both hired! Manatee, I will be watching you though...I have eyes and ears everywhere.

Today was, in fact, the last day to get your sheets in, we'll likely start tomorrow or later today - just bear in mind that I'm in the UK, and therefore very likely to be of a different time to some of you.

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

Mycandra Castell - One Badass Nun! - Durandal

Mycandra Castell

Name: Mycandra Castell

Age: 37

Gender: Female

Race: Human

Appearance: As a member of the Adepta Sororitas, Mycandra is usually clad in her armor, a form fitting suit of steely-looking plates of ceramite and other various materials. Various fleurs-de-lis can be seen on her armor, mainly on the joints and chest, with studs on the main breastplate. Underneath the armor she sports a set of plain red tunic and trousers. Attached to her waist is a length of red cloth upon which is threaded a golden cross and halo. A similar piece of cloth hangs from her back, except the outside is black fringed with red while the underside is entirely red. Various Imperial seals are engraved in silver on her armor, primarily on her pauldrons and arms. The hand-flamer and bolt pistol hang from her hips, ready to be drawn in a moments notice. A thin leather belt holds Mycandra's simulacrum imperialis and medicus ministorum except when she is praying. Various strips of paper, inscribed with various litanies of the Imperial Cult, are bound across parts of her armor, changing every day to reflect the complete devotion to the Emperor's creed.

Mycandra herself is an exceptionally tall woman, standing 6'1" without the armor, which then adds another few inches. A scar runs down the left side of her hard, drawn face, crossing over her eye and cheek. The left eye has been replaced by a bionic, an additional memory of the event which gave her the scar. Near the peak of human ability, she is an exceptionally strong and agile person, weighing much more than a normal woman and able to compete a vast majority of men, especially because of her armor. Short brown hair hangs loose when not covered by a battle helm. Piercing gray eyes appear to scour the soul of any who gaze upon them, accentuated by the stern expression usually on Mycandra's face.

Personality: Mycandra is a very stoic, devout, and unrelenting person, a product of her childhood spent among the underhives of the planet Eydolim. Many of the religious practices native to the Shrine World, especially worship to Saint Kodaline, has remained with Mycandra throughout her life and she will frequently reference the patron Saint of her home planet. Although some would consider her simple-minded, nothing more than a pawn, Mycandra is in fact a rather intelligent person, able to puzzle her way through situations given time and/or tools. Because of her position as an Adepta Sororitas, she despises those that do not adhere faithfully to the will of the God Emperor but is willing to make concessions in order to further His plans. Because of this trait, she can appear rather stand-offish in the company of the others and rather derisive. Should you befriend her, however, you would find a true and loyal companion.

History: Mycandra's childhood is one of deprivation and despair. Born to members of the lowest laboring classes on the Shrine World Eydolim, birth place of Saint Kodaline, lived much of her child years without seeing the sun itself, only the filtered rays that streamed down through the levels of the hive. Her parents were constantly working and did not usually have time to spend with Mycandra apart from worshiping every day at centers of the Imperial Cult. Already larger than most girls and many boys by the age of nine, she herself was then put to work in the underside of the world of Eydolim. Exposed to violence, smuggling, and other sorts of illegal and unsavory activities, Mycandra's survival rested entirely on her faith in the glory of the Emperor, sustaining her physically-degrading body spiritually.

It would fall upon Mycandra's perception one fateful day when of age twelve that her father and mother also participated in several illicit activities, though she could not reliably explain which ones given her age and seclusion. Venturing out to a nearby Arbites station, she convinced one of the Arbites that he needed to come with her as her parents were engaging in illegal activity that went against the Shrine world and the Emperor. The Arbites escorted her to her house and what followed shocked Mycandra. Her father recognized the man and slipped him money, thanking him for bringing his daughter back. After the Arbites explained the reason Mycandra had sought him out, a grim expression took hold on her father's face. Closing the door after the two men parted, Mycandra's father beat her, breaking bones and shattering her face. Locked into her room afterwards, she received no food and only a paltry amount of water the next few days.

Released unexpectedly, her father began to drag Mycandra through the underhive forcefully. Coming into a crowded area, she was bumped free of her father by the press of bodies. Utilizing this moment to escape, Mycandra darted away, fleeing blindly from her father. Paying no attention to the direction she was taking, she found herself lost an hour later. Fearing that if she went home her father would be waiting, Mycandra ascended the hive as rapidly as her long legs could carry her. Having passed into the upper-middle section of her particular hive block, Mycandra found herself amazed. Graceful pillars spiraled into the air from vast Gothic churches. Well-clothed individuals bustled through the streets, several sporting displaying cybernetics. Shops filled with items and foods unheard of called to her senses. And that was when she saw them.

Striding through the thoroughfare was a host of Adepta Sororitas, armored figures glistening in the light. Each seemed a perfection of what humanity could be to Mycandra's eyes, a radiant symbol of the Emperor. Afraid that she would be rejected were she to approach them directly, Mycandra instead followed behind the group. They entered a grand temple of gold and marble, crowned with a statue of a figure, whom Mycandra presumed was Saint Kodaline. Following inside furtively, she stood there for a time, uncaring of the world around her. Her attention was fixated wholly on the massive mural across the wall, depicting the history of Saint Kodaline and other important religious figures. One of the Ministorum priests noticed her and moved to evict her from the building but was stopped by one of the Sisters. Introducing herself as Sister Arda of the Order Hospitaller, Mycandra was taken to be fed and healed of her wounds. And so began her journey with the Adepta Sororitas.

She would spend years upon years training with the Sisters before becoming a fully-fledged Sororitas in the 20th year of her life. Equipped with the tools of a Sister Hospitaller, she was deployed alongside numerous Guard regiments travelling to one of the various warzones of the Imperium. Constantly moving, Mycandra would nurse countless soldiers back to health and ease the death of countless more during her time with the Guard, revealing to her the dedication that even normal men could display in the face of the otherworldly horrors which plagued the Imperium. Desiring to do more, she transferred to the Order Militant in the 26th year of her birth and was redeployed with other Sisters. Serving in the suppression of heretical rebellions and staving off attacks by xenos, heretics, and deamons, Mycandra learned the ways of war, finding a simple purity in cleansing the Imperium.

Another point of change occurred during the battle for the planet of Villum, an Agri world in the Ultima Segmentum. Facing a sizeable Ork infestation, the Imperial Guard, Sister, and PDF forces were in the final stages of clearing the xenos when a tendril of Hive Fleet Leviathan appeared in the sky. The thud of massive artillery batteries and the cracking of hundreds of thousands of lasguns could be heard throughout the entirety of the world as the Imperial forces desperately attempted to stave off the invasion. Guard positions within a thousand miles of the drop-point were overrun within the first week and the march of the Tyranids appeared relentless. Imperial Navy vessels arrived in system in the second week and managed to beat back the hive ships in orbit, yet the ground could not be cleared without sacrificing copious amounts of military equipment. Therefore, dropships were sent with escort fighters to retrieve the remaining troops before they were too consumed. Mycandra was at one of these positions and was told to hurry to the drop point. However, a premonition told her to stay and venture into one of the nearby crypts. Inside, after searching for several minutes, she found an object that she did not immediately recognize yet felt was important. Some of the other Sisters had forced the dropships to stay and so she was barely able to escape. When the item she had recovered was examined by one of the Ecclesiarch personnel on the ship, it was determined to be a relic of the early days of the Imperium. And so began her duty as a member of the Orders Pronatus.

The next few years, she would search numerous worlds for other relics. Sometimes she was successful but more often than not the expeditions were fruitless. Having heard rumors of an important relic lost within the Koronus Expanse, Mycandra has travelled to Outpost 57 and there seeks passage into the Expanse by any means. For no duty or condition is too unsavory for one loyal to the Emperor.

Skills: Mycandra has served as one of the Order of the Eternal Gate's most effective Sisters in her time, although her skills extend far past what is required of her. Having faced frequent combat during her time in the Orders Militant, Mycandra is well-versed in the art of war, adeptly wielding her bolt pistol and hand flamer. Of equal skill with many veteran Guardsmen in terms of training both in close-combat and ranged fire-fights, the enhancing abilities of her power armor allows her to greatly surpass many mortal men in the fields of strength, accuracy, speed, and senses, making her an excellent combatant. However, Mycandra's main calling is outside of combat.

A member of the Order of the Eternal Gate, she is able to identify ancient artifacts rather easily due to her frequent encounters with objects of value to the Ecclesiarchy. This makes artifacts less mysterious to her and as such she can sometimes puzzle out the function of old technology. In addition, exposure to various types of equipment used in expeditions has left her somewhat familiar with the use of auspexes and related scanning and digging equipment, although her primary focus is retrieving the artifact. She has minor experience with repairing equipment because artifacts would sometimes require immediate, on-site attention lest the item be lost due to a breakdown. As with all Sisters, she is familiar with the teachings of the Imperial Cult and has experience leading others inside and outside of combat. She has extensive medical knowledge due to being raised with Sisters from the Order Hospitaller.

Equipment:

-Adepta Sororitas power armor
-Bolt Pistol
-Litanies of Faith
-Simulacrum Imperialis
-Hand Flamer
-Medicus Ministorum

Miscellaneous: I fight in His name. Do you?

Beyond Civilisations Grasp... - A Rogue Trader (WH40K) RP (ON HIATUS, closed for now.)

@PripovednikI'll wait for Hanko to give his feedback, but it's a yes from me.

@DurandalFelt like I was back in Uni reading an essay! :D You're hired!

@HankAye, don't rush yourself laddie, don't start til Wednesday anyhow.

Stargate - Alliances - Into the Unknown

I notice a distinct lack of non-humans, are you still accepting applications?