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It is a good point that none of us are in any way familiar with the reputations of our parent chapters. Aside from what we may have been told. As we are proverbial blank slates we do not and likely would not have to embody the stereotypes of our chapters. If anything we would be closer to the older Legion personalities.
As the howling hoard approached Cholon thumbed the release stud on the revolving chamber for his rifles grenade launcher. He already knew full well what he had loaded to fire. Two frag explosives and one krak, the same as it was ten minutes prior. But he double checked anyway for the sake of feeding a habit.

When the first twisted and sad form broke through the rockcrete dust Cholon's targeting cogitator briefly scanned over and locked a reticule overtop. The machine spirit of his armour seemed to aid in tweaking and making minute adjustments to his aim until the overlay of his weapon's line of fire matched perfectly with the targeter's own projections. But one warped and twisted soul soon became a dozen warped and twist souls, which in turn became a thousand. The limited cogitator in his helmet strained to process each and every new target that came into its view but Cholon soon dismissed its efforts with a blink as it quickly became a pointless endevour for the machine's spirit.

Like he was expected Cholon's trigger discipline held firm. Though he knew his rifle could easily wreak havoc from twice the distance of a mortal's las rifle. Once more he cursed the fate that had him fighting this battle while trapped in a whole. Wild shots scattered around his sillouette, some striking off the armour leaving marks and scorch dust in the paint.

He began his death tally by firing a frag explosive directly into the oncoming horde. With a hollow 'thwoop' and deceptively gentle arc through the air the explosive impacted one of the heretics directly in the chest and threw him backwards for barely a moment before the charge detonated. Killing it, and the nearest four sorrounding traitors and hampering several more with vicious shrapnel.

From there on it was merely a test of patience and trigger discipline. And while his armoured boots stayed firmly planted with each controlled shot he placed into the hoard the muscle and flesh inside was twitching with the need to move... somewhere.... forward, backward, anywhere.

Even as las fire and mass reactive shells reaped a horrifying tally, Cholon knew this was going to come down to a brawl of fists and knives. Firing his bolt rifle one handed, as accuracy hardly mattered even to a space marine at the distance now between him and the enemy. The Chogorian unsheathed his long combat blade, almost as lengthy from tip to pommel as one of the guardsman las-rifles, and held it ready to pierce the throat of the first unfortunate to reach him.

"FOR THE EMPEROR AND THE KHAN!" The Chogorian roared his first words of the battle, indeed his first words for some hours since the bombarding first began. The warcry was amplified by his helmet vox to a thunderous boom tyat spoke volumes of primal heritage and savage intenions.
Wars weren't fought like this. At least no conflict worthy of song and respect could ever be fought like this. Static emplacements and endless watching and waiting and waiting and watching. It was enough to drive a warrior mad with boredom more effectively than warp-influence ever could. A warrior deserved to feel the ground shake beneath his feet with the thunder of hooves, or at least the squeal of tough wheel rubber. The wind catching their hair. Even running towards the enemy on foot, alone was beginning to seem more and more preferable than continuing this plan. And there was no respect to be found for an enemy who hid behind walls of iron and stone like cowards rather than meet their enemy in the open fields of war. Too afraid to risk their lives in true duels of skill.

It was only due to his physco-indoctrination and warrior training that his chogorian spirit did not take control of his body to leap over the top of the trenches, or eat one of his own bolt rounds in an effort to alleviate his frustrations.

The silencing of thunderous fire promised a short, if unsatisfying relief to his boredom. The enemy was coming. As pathetic creatures that they may be. There was no honour to be found killing the crazed cultists of the arch-enemy. So polluted with warp insanity that the tactics of their former guardsman training barely applied, to say nothing of their discipline. The bolt round that would end their life was greater than their personal worth, and with so many heretics to kill it was quickly proving to be a waste of munitions. The only satisfaction to be found in this butchery was the knowledge that the lives of traitors was being ended en mass. A small comfort.

Taking his stance in the trench, body turned and legs spread for optimum balance, once more Cholon cursed the claustrophobic nature of trench warfare. He barely had room to to anything more than this. The mortal guardsman arrayed around the titan in white armour, marred by earth and grime and pollutants in the air of the once bustling imperial city. And while Cholon new that his presence gave the men courage and a degree of inspiration (if nothing else to play on their sense of pride against showing cowardice before a space marine)Their very presence constricted him into further claustrophobia, though where they had to climb a foot or two up the inclined edge of the trench to peek over the edge and line up their rifles. Cholon merely had to stand and aim. Already a head and shoulders higher than the trench.

That head in turn was attempted to pierce the screen of smoke and dust thrown up by the bombardments. Looking for any sign of the approaching enemy. Ruby red lenses had a particularly sinister glare when coupled with the stern looking respirator plate of the helm. He longed to remove it and feel the meagre wind against his skin but his intimidating height also gave opportunity to snipers, and he was still not immune to bullets hitting his skull.

Cholon didn't bother to respond verbally. Merely sending a confirmation blip through his helmet that he heard his battle brothers words. He was in too sour of a mood for speech.
Name: Cholon-Badzar (Thunder of the mountain, or more literally translated: Stone Thunderbolt)
 
Rank: Intercessor
 
Age: 82

 Gene-sire: Jaghatai Khan
 
Personality: Cholon is a white scar, what’s more he is Chogorian. Which explains many of his decisions, habits and quirks, and his interactions towards others.
 
His mood can change as quickly as the winds and storms of his homeland. From gentle and easy compassion and comradery or roused into a terrible fury that can rival the destructive force of a macro plasma cannon.
 
He has little reason to hold animosity towards any of his brothers, as many in his chapter have cultivated towards the Raven guard or others. Long stasis having saved him from being such petty bickering being implanted into his mind. Any animosity he may feel or come to feel against a particular brother would be on a more personal level.
 
He holds reveration towards librarians and psykers who possess the ability to manipulate the ‘powers of heaven’, and pity to those entombed in sterile claustrophobia that is existence in a dreadnought sarcophagus. He distrusts those incapable of laughter, or those unwilling to accept or acknowledge glory and great deeds of themselves or others. He dislikes battle plans that keep him as a stationary object, greatly preferring to be moving in any direction.
 
Description:
His armour is white, like all white scars armour, and embossed with a proud Imperialis of bright red colour. He does not mark his armour with the same traditional honour markings as the white scars themselves but he does collect and hang trophies from his hip or shoulder guards, as his savage bretheren often do. Most often this means skulls, but sometimes strips of hide, fur or claws & fangs depending on the nature of the enemy laid low.

Uner his armour his features are unsuprisingly similar to many of his homeworld of Chogoris. His skin dark and his long hair is black as jet, his features reminiscent of a bloodline and sub-people long since extinguished from the surface of Chogoris but cirtually identical as far as those not from chogoris are concerned. Facial scars can be faintly seen, having been ritually carved into his face but his enchanced biology does not allow them to persist for very long before dissapearing.

 
History: Cholon isn’t entirely certain of his pre-stasis origins. Aside from bits and pieces, between his physical alterations, hypo-indoctrination and extra-long slumber in cryo-storage there are gaps in his memory. Not helped by the fact that his awakening, like many others was rushed by the underlings of Archmagos Cawl. In the rush to fulfill Lord Commander Gulliman’s need for a massive deployment of new troops. A degree of amnesia was not unexpected or considered alarming after such a long period of inactivity, as was told by the techpriest magos overseeing his recovery. His indoctrinated training and enhanced skills were retained throughout his slumber. Which in the end is all that truly mattered for him as a warrior.
 
He knows he is from Chogoris, but from what tribe he once held he could not say. Perhaps he was from the Odghai people? Or maybe his people once fought against the Odghai? Or with them? It was hard to say, it was one of the only names and fragments he retained from his past but he felt neither pride nor animosity towards it. Ten thousand years later it hardly mattered. Not the least which reason is that tribe and its old name had long since been forgotten by the galaxy at large and chogoris.  
 
He was awoken some decades into the indomitus crusade as reinforcement for the unnumbered sons. He didn’t even know his name at during those first confusing days. Most details about the Current state of the Imperium had to be taught to him, all he knew is that from his perspective enough time had passed that even the constellations above terra had begun to shift into unfamiliar new patterns, or maybe he they were the wrong stars to begin with? In either case this was not the galaxy he remembered, but was still the galaxy he must fight for.
 
But some details about himself he simply knew. For reasons he could not explain. He knew his lineage, and knew the name of his primarch progenitor without prompt, despite remembering virtually nothing about him other than the most basic and grand points of his legacy. He knew the call of the wind and thunder in his veins, urging him to battle the enemies of the Khan. If felt familiar and comfortable.
 
Equipment:
 
Mk X Tacticus power armour
Mk II Cawl pattern bolt rifle -w/ auxiliary grenade launcher
- Auxiliary grenade bandolier x 6
Bolt Pistol
Combat blade
Frag grenades x 2
Krak grenades x 2
that's up to JB of course, but he did specify twice that we are only playing intercessors here.
Intercessors use old legion rules and formation tactics. Which means the entire squad takes something or no one does.

I.e we all use bolt rifles, or we all use stalkers, or auto-bolt rifles.

As for the grenade launcher I kinda already claimed that with JB, as there is typically only 1 launcher per 5 marines. its the only auxiliary equipment intercessors use.

Unlike standard tactical marines which are purpose built to be as flexible as possible with options for wargear. the Primaris are more purpose built.

But ya, the sergeant cant take a power sword. I just assumed JB would be taking on the role of sergeant
I know, which why I was saying that people can't make someone of traitor stock.
Actually the greyshields were all loyalist stock. The idea that Cawl used traitor primarch genseeed is just something people wanted to be true, instead of actually being true.

"Active for over a standard century well into the 42nd Millennium, they were comprised of nine Space Marine Legion-sized armies of Primaris Space Marines, all drawn from the lineage of one of the 9 Primarchs who had led the Loyalist Space Marine Legions during the Horus Heresy."

That is a quote from the wiki page and they do repeat that in the dark Imperium books.

it seems that, at least for now all known primaris marines are taken from loyalist stock only.

@Apollosarcher
I don't actually know how long it might be until I can post. I thought I had more free time when I started in on this and I do still want to play. But I had a busy week, i'm behind on a lot of posts and other shit and just don't know when I can give this any attention.
Dunno. @DrunkasaurusRex its Mr DM's call at this point. I guess you might want to define what you mean by 'auto-cannon' and approximately how many missile launchers is included in 'various'?
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