SillyGoy Member

##[Chalcedon](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75113/posts/char?page=2#post-2322931) of the Lamenters ####Planet Guisrac, Sector Tancred, Segmentum Ultima, Milky Way --- There was a sickening crunch as multiple powerful servos clenched at once to crush a Hormagaunt's skull and flatten its brain, sending foul-smelling green ichor around in an elegant circle. The thick blood splattered against Chalcedon's breastplate, dirtying the golden Imperial Aquila so proudly embossed upon it. And, as if the meted out punishment wasn't enough, the space marine, in his hatred, raised his armored leg to deliver an earth-shattering kick of many tons of force straight against the foul alien's thorax, utterly detonating it and the organ systems within into a gratuitous explosion of gore. Droplets of the death-stuff further pepper Chalcedon's power armor as they collect into a temporary mist, the foul green cloud shortly dispelled by the resuming muzzle-blasts of Chalcedon's bolter, each round fired like a lightning strike in both impact and sound. Where the bolts are going? There, on every slope of the hill where he and his company are surrounded, hundreds upon hundreds and thousands of them, an undulating mass of twitching chitin: the Tyranid swarm. "For the Emperor and Sanguinius!" Chalcedon bellowed, his voice high and mighty, overpowering even the ugly wail of total war. "Death! **DEATH!**" This was met by a chorus of hurrahs by his squad and other members of the 5th Company. There they were, valiant paladins, heroes and giants fending off the monsters of this unforgiving, forsaken Universe. One hundred of them, Space Marines of which there are only one per planet under the unwavering rule of the Imperium. One hundred super-soldiers, one hundred noble knights, one hundred Angels of Death. Young demigods in power armor, unmatched in war and deadly with bolter and chainsword. But not enough. Not against a foe that fears nothing, not against a foe that is numberless. Not against the Great Devourer, whose hunger makes even the stars quake. Poets and artists glorify war and aggrandize and romanticize the deeds of armed forces of the Imperium. Odes and ballads and paintings and sculptures, all great, all together so innumerable and make up a great part of human culture. Ah, were it that halos crown the heads of Astartes always, were it that a diegetic but untouchable and invisible orchestra were there to give music and order to the churning carnage of battle. Were it that the angels of beyond were truly watching these earthly angels of death as witnesses to their glorious end. Were it that dying here wasn't so horrible and _lonely_, maybe Chalcedon would feel better about all of this. Because no-one outside of the 5th Company, knows at all what is happening to the 5th Company. The red lights and clicks of protests of Squad Julius' heavy bolters mean that they have run out of ammunition. Their bolters and bolt pistols simply do not have the firepower of their larger siblings to cover their area of jurisdiction. They are overwhelmed without mercy, alien talons, after much struggle, breaching their power armor and goring them. "Glory!" yelled Urzhk, the company chaplain, his face unreadable through the ghastly visage of his skull mask. "Glory! We all die in **GLORY!**" If only that were true. "For those we cherish!" the company yelled in unison. Were it that they were truly dying in glory. One by one do they die. Angels of Death ironically falling into death's embrace, souls leaving their powerful earthly vessels to enter an afterlife where they are actually weak. The venerable dreadnought Damocles finally met his end against a combined and concentrated barrage of Warrior-brood cannon fire. Too wounded to live, yet too precious to die, it was today when his walking tomb, the only thing keeping him alive, was breached, and he, as a consequence, died alongside its power systems. His grey meat, though of low quality, was biomass all the same, and the Tyranids would consume it like they did everything else. "For those I cherish," Chalcedon repeated the battle-cry, as the horde swelled up towards him from below. The death-wails of an entire company of Astartes are loud and obviously noticeable. But it matters little when nobody is there to hear it. "I die in glory!" Struck by the explosive psychic bolt of a Tyranid Zoanthrope, Chalcedon died forgettably. Or did he really perish? --- ####Client World 576143290-B --- At the crest of a random, sandy dune, there lay Chalcedon seemingly staring against the sun. One could not tell through the thick armourcrys lenses of his helm, but his eyes shot out open, bright and active, almost immediately after he had regained his consciousness. Standing up with speed not befitting his bulkiness and beholding the greenery of the savage jungle gone in place of a desert landscape, he took a few moments to heft his bolter up and, working with his autosenses, scanned his environment for potential threats. His autosenses tagged the four figures in the shadow of a rather misplaced towering structure in the distance about a millisecond before his eyes did. Hundreds of meters away, Chalcedon wondered what or who they were: one question amongst a hundred – where was he? What is this place? If he was not being led to the Emperor's Palace, or joining the paladins of the Legion of the Damned, those glorious Astartes who fight even beyond death, then what was this place? Purgatory? Was he even dead? He was struck down not even a minute ago and he knew it; if he had yet to die but was still conscious, then by now, he would be staring at Apothecary Capet's grim visage as he worked on his wounds. But Capet wasn't there, and neither was the rest of 5th Company. He was certain he was alive; hell, his HUD says he still was, and also that his blood-splattered armor hadn't been breached. Was he suddenly transported somewhere else, however reeking of fantasy that situation may be? Since the Zoanthrope used the Warp as its energy source for its blows, then did he suffer at this point the bad luck his chapter was infamous for, being teleported across space and time to some backwater desert world? So many questions, but he had no answers to any of them. But perhaps those figures in the distance might lend him some clues. Two women, one man, one unknown. Five hundred meters away. Tagged, and possibly hostile. Bringing his bolter up to his cheek, he began to walk towards them, his massive weight sending ripples through the sand and throwing it up in little clouds dispersed continually into nothingness by a concurrent light breeze. When the distance was small enough that he could identify their being human, Chalcedon lowered the muzzle of his weapon in a relaxed stance. The thousand-kilogram, eight-foot-five-inch goliath cast out his voice as his footfalls were thuds that vibrated the very air: **"Hail,"** a curt greeting that belied little emotion through the mechanical modulation of his helm's vox-caster.

Man, my ignorance of the American (that is, the K-12) education system is going to bite me in the arse hard. Education in my country is different.

I'd join, but my ignorance of this part of the Cold War and lack on knowledge on the military in general prevents me from doing so.

##Timothy “Tim” Aquinas## --- **Description:**  An unassuming youth with pale skin, brown hair and emerald eyes, Timothy is lean and rather thin. Thin-framed eyeglasses sit upon the bridge of his nose, windows to eyes that brighten up in a charming, childlike way when he smiles. He stands at a good 6’0” tall, and prefers simple clothing: many of his shirts are black or grey and without print, and the ones that do have only minimalistic designs. His pants and other apparel are equally unassuming. But never is he seen without his only apparent accessory: a small pendant in the shape of an elaborate Celtic crucifix of silver, hanging from his neck by a chain. Described by Cadwal as having a "cherub's melody," Timothy has a deceptively effeminate voice. --- **Age:** 16 **Gender:** Male --- **Personality:** *“Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to Your Name give glory.”* The foremost thing one might notice about Timothy is his zeal. A devout Catholic, he is well-read in the Bible and zealous. And unlike some others, Timothy has taken the teachings of the Scripture to heart, making him a genuinely friendly and caring person. Love his neighbor, love his enemy? Timothy most certainly does. Honest and loyal, his care for the well-being of others extends to the spiritual: he is convinced that those of heathen faiths – especially the People of the Book But Do Not Believe – and true unbelievers must be enlightened sooner or later. Then there are the Ones Who Come in His Name but Twist His Words, like Westboro, which he finds especially despicable. Timothy is especially fond of literature, especially medieval history. He knows full well how Duke Enrique of Savoy invaded Monferatto from the Duke of Mantua as he had run out of patience with waiting for Emperor Rudolf of the Holy Roman Empire to answer his petition to have the mentioned territory transferred to the custody of his daughter, Margherita, as she was kicked out of the Mantuan Duke’s court for not having sired a child for her husband, the Duke’s late brother, before he died. Always hungry for more knowledge, his learning of this subject which he most adores is supplemented by the Holy Ghosts whom he summons and who are more than willing to answer his many, many questions. They may also be the reason why his favorite video game is Medieval II: Total War. Quite softspoken, the mildness of his words is such that people are often left cynically wondering whether or not Timothy is mocking them. The sincerity with which he prays before eating his meals is viewed by some as merely an exaggeration: a mockery of those who practice Christianity. However, Timothy does not practice deceit. What he does is honest. He believes his unique ability to summon fallen Crusaders is given to him by God. --- **Talent:** *Esoteric Knowledge:* Timothy is well-read in obscure history books, and can regurgitate most of what he has learned, knowledge extracted from the literary works of people Like E.B Sledge, Sir Arthur Lloyd, and Peter H. Wilson. But, ever humble, Timothy only shares what he knows when the situation calls for it. *Communicatio Larvali:* Timothy can communicate with summoned Holy Ghosts telepathically, surmounting any distance and time and in pure thought, eliminating the language barrier. Cadwal is a special case, and is an exception to the rule. --- **Ability:** _Legiones Ecclesiae:_ At his command, Timothy can call forth Holy Ghosts of the most proactive members of the Church-Militant, namely, Crusaders. Having had this unique gift since early childhood, he has improved the ability in that he can keep indefinitely one Holy Ghost and dispel them at his whim. With a whispered plea and holding a holy symbol of Christianity (like a cross, or his pendant), Timothy beckons the departed souls of those who killed and died in the name of Christ from the ether and into the worldly earth. Fading into existence, they are then at the summoner's beck and call. However, the summoned are picked at random: Timothy does not yet have the ability to call specific people. _Holy Ghosts_ are the summoned spirits of Christian martyrs. These can be an unknown Crusader or even someone famous like Joan of Arc. Partly transparent, hued an otherworldly blue, and possessed of bright, glowing eyes, these entities are twice as strong and fast as a man and immune to pain – but not harm. While they are ghosts in a sense, they are still shackled to following the laws of physics. However, they do not need their spectral organs to live as they are already dead. Therefore, a bullet is most effective at tearing a Holy Ghost's tendons than holing their heart. Maintaining a Holy Ghost is done automatically by the soul but at the expense of the body. Timothy is completely alright with one summoned, but is easily winded when he has summoned two. At three and four, he is forced to sit down, with him being pale at the latter. Having five summoned simultaneously will knock him to deathly unconsciousness and will take heavy tolls on his health. While Timothy can keep one Holy Ghost indefinitely, having two or more will strain Timothy's soul so much that after fifteen minutes, they will be forcibly dispelled. Holy Ghosts are summoned with what they had on their person the moment of their death. While her visit could potentially be a very enlightening experience, Joan of Arc would not fight at her fullest since she wore a dress during her death at the pyre. Crusaders who died in battle are more valuable in that they are usually in full gear when summoned. However, all are prized and valuable relics of the past, and some of them possess ancient knowledge no longer available in the present. It would appear that Holy Ghosts have lost much of their personality during their centuries in limbo. What they haven't lost, however, is hatred of the heathen, the unbeliever, and the heretic. Holy Ghosts, being soul-bound to their summoner, are able to communicate with Tim telepathically in pure thoughts, defeating language barriers. Holy Ghosts can be seen, heard and touched by other people. However, they don't feel much due to their slightly incorporeal properties. They mimic the natural body temperature of a human being, but have got no odor of their own. _Cadwal of Godwyn_ is a deceased English Crusader knight who perished in the First Crusade, struck down by an arrow to his thigh, knocking him off his horse, that subsequently became gangrenous and from which he did not recover. Acting as a sort of guardian angel, even he himself is not sure what is exactly at work as he shares his mind and soul with Timothy, acting as the boy's second conscience and trying to steer him towards the right path. Cadwal "sleeps," becoming completely inactive for four hours each day. This is to relieve some of the stress of Timothy's soul from having to maintain another thought-form. Cadwal does his best to time this with Timothy's regular sleeping hours. --- **Bio:** Born to two middle-class parents as the middle child of a litter of two boys and one girl, there isn't much to say about Timothy, considering his overall and overwhelming averageness which is offset only by his unique and (as he believes) God-given ability. While he was baptized, going to Church was never something routine for his family. Therefore, he sees his powers as a gift from God when they emerged when he was six years old. Like many children, he thought up an imaginary friend. It was a knight, and his young mind could only describe it as "blue" and "like glass." When he was alone, he would play with the knight, and started a little game with his older brother and younger sister when he introduced the knight to them, and they made their own imaginary friends. Little did Timothy know, however, that his siblings' imagined creations were far different to what he had, for as time went on, the knight's responses became purely his own, and Timothy slowly lost the need to parrot them. Like another person living in his head, the knight would comment on day-to-day life, and when the young Timothy eyed upon a Bible, the knight energetically pleaded the boy to read it. As little Tim read, his young mind was full of questions even from the starting book of Genesis. He would ask the knight in his head, who formally introduced himself as Cadwal of Godwyn, to explain it all for him, and he spent so many sleepless nights doing this sort of cooperative storytelling that his mother became worried at his lack of sleep and consulted a physician. On his third grade of elementary school, his family had to move elsewhere, and he was saddened by the sudden loss of friends; but Cadwal was always there and would never leave his mind. Upon his insistence, his father took him to Church one day, and was deeply happy at finally worshiping at a proper place. As he became older and thus more aware of the sheer unnaturality of his unique ability, Tim wondered if he could do more with it. Praying to God, and after consulting Cadwal, he tried to call out an angel to advise him on what to do when his parents were divorcing. However, the only being that faded into existence was not a magnificent scion of Heaven, but a short-lasting, flickering blue ghost of a woman in armor. Timothy could not but gasp "Who are you?" at the figure, who replied with a sagely "Who I am is not important. But your faith in God is," before fading back into nothingness. Encouraged by Cadwal, Timothy was henceforth convinced of his being blessed. Ever since then, he has been practicing and perfecting this unique ability of his by prayer and meditation. Speaking with wizened words, Timothy prevented his parents' divorce by driving them to tears as he preached about the sanctity and inviolability of the oaths a couple takes in their marriage ceremony, with the help of his two beloved siblings. --- **Other:** Drowning in early adolescent male hormones, Timothy wanted to masturbate once (just to try it) but was halted by Cadwal (whom he thought was sleeping), who lectured him fiercely of the value of the "seed" and how it must not be wasted.

Y-you too.

Hey, boss. Look who's back and slightly buffed! --- ##Timothy “Tim” Aquinas## --- **Description:** An unassuming youth with pale skin, brown hair and emerald eyes, Timothy is lean and rather thin. Thin-framed eyeglasses sit upon the bridge of his nose, windows to eyes that brighten up in a charming, childlike way when he smiles. He stands at a good 6’0” tall, and prefers simple clothing: many of his shirts are black or grey and without print, and the ones that do have only minimalistic designs. His pants and other apparel are equally unassuming. But never is he seen without his only apparent accessory: a small pendant in the shape of an elaborate Celtic crucifix of silver, hanging from his neck by a chain. --- **Age:** 16 **Gender:** Male --- **Personality:** *“Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to Your Name give glory.”* The foremost thing one might notice about Timothy is his zeal. A devout Catholic, he is well-read in the Bible and zealous. And unlike some others, Timothy has taken the teachings of the Scripture to heart, making him a genuinely friendly and caring person. Love his neighbor, love his enemy? Timothy most certainly does. Honest and loyal, his care for the well-being of others extends to the spiritual: he is convinced that those of heathen faiths – especially the People of the Book But Do Not Believe – and true unbelievers must be enlightened sooner or later. Then there are the Ones Who Come in His Name but Twist His Words, like Westboro, which he finds especially despicable. Timothy is especially fond of literature, especially medieval history. He knows full well how Duke Enrique of Savoy invaded Monferatto from the Duke of Mantua as he had run out of patience with waiting for Emperor Rudolf of the Holy Roman Empire to answer his petition to have the mentioned territory transferred to the custody of his daughter, Margherita, as she was kicked out of the Mantuan Duke’s court for not having sired a child for her husband, the Duke’s late brother, before he died. Always hungry for more knowledge, his learning of this subject which he most adores is supplemented by the Holy Ghosts whom he summons and who are more than willing to answer his many, many questions. They may also be the reason why his favorite video game is Medieval II: Total War. Quite softspoken, the mildness of his words is such that people are often left cynically wondering whether or not Timothy is mocking them. The sincerity with which he prays before eating his meals is viewed by some as merely an exaggeration: a mockery of those who practice Christianity. However, Timothy does not practice deceit. What he does is honest. He believes his unique ability to summon fallen Crusaders is given to him by God. --- **Talent:** *Esoteric Knowledge:* Timothy is well-read in obscure history books, and can regurgitate most of what he has learned, knowledge extracted from the literary works of people Like E.B Sledge, Sir Arthur Lloyd, and Peter H. Wilson. But, ever humble, Timothy only shares what he knows when the situation calls for it. *Communicatio Larvali:* Timothy can communicate with summoned Holy Ghosts telepathically, surmounting any distance and time and in pure thought, eliminating the language barrier. Cadwal is a special case, and is an exception to the rule. --- **Ability:** _Legiones Ecclesiae:_ At his command, Timothy can call forth Holy Ghosts of the most proactive members of the Church-Militant, namely, Crusaders. Having had this unique gift since early childhood, he has improved the ability in that he can keep indefinitely one Holy Ghost and dispel them at his whim. With a whispered plea and holding a holy symbol of Christianity (like a cross, or his pendant), Timothy beckons the departed souls of those who killed and died in the name of Christ from the ether and into the worldly earth. Fading into existence, they are then at the summoner's beck and call. However, the summoned are picked at random: Timothy does not yet have the ability to call specific people. _Holy Ghosts_ are the summoned spirits of Christian martyrs. These can be an unknown Crusader or even someone famous like Joan of Arc. Partly transparent, hued an otherworldly blue, and possessed of bright, glowing eyes, these entities are twice as strong and fast as a man and immune to pain – but not harm. While they are ghosts in a sense, they are still shackled to following the laws of physics. However, they do not need their spectral organs to live as they are already dead. Therefore, a bullet is most effective at tearing a Holy Ghost's tendons than holing their heart. Maintaining a Holy Ghost is done automatically by the soul but at the expense of the body. Timothy is completely alright with one summoned, but is easily winded when he has summoned two. At three and four, he is forced to sit down, with him being pale at the latter. Having five summoned simultaneously will knock him to deathly unconsciousness and will take heavy tolls on his health. While Timothy can keep one Holy Ghost indefinitely, having two or more will strain Timothy's soul so much that after fifteen minutes, they will be forcibly dispelled. Holy Ghosts are summoned with what they had on their person the moment of their death. While her visit could potentially be a very enlightening experience, Joan of Arc would not fight at her fullest since she wore a dress during her death at the pyre. Crusaders who died in battle are more valuable in that they are usually in full gear when summoned. However, all are prized and valuable relics of the past, and some of them possess ancient knowledge no longer available in the present. It would appear that Holy Ghosts have lost much of their personality during their centuries in limbo. What they haven't lost, however, is hatred of the heathen, the unbeliever, and the heretic. Holy Ghosts, being soul-bound to their summoner, are able to communicate with Tim telepathically in pure thoughts, defeating language barriers. Holy Ghosts can be seen, heard and touched by other people. However, they don't feel much due to their slightly incorporeal properties. They mimic the natural body temperature of a human being, but have got no odor of their own. _Cadwal of Godwyn_ is a deceased English Crusader knight who perished in the First Crusade, struck down by an arrow to his thigh, knocking him off his horse, that subsequently became gangrenous and from which he did not recover from. Acting as a sort of guardian angel, even he himself is not sure what is exactly at work as he shares his mind and soul with Timothy, acting as the boy's second conscience and trying to steer him towards the right path. Cadwal "sleeps," becoming completely inactive for four hours each day. This is to relieve some of the stress of Timothy's soul from having to maintain another thought-form. Cadwal does his best to time this with Timothy's regular sleeping hours. --- **Bio:** Born to two middle-class parents as the middle child of a litter of two boys and one girl, there isn't much to say about Timothy, considering his overall and overwhelming averageness which is offset only by his unique and (as he believes) God-given ability. While he was baptized, going to Church was never something routine for his family. Therefore, he sees his powers as a gift from God when they emerged when he was six years old. Like many children, he thought up an imaginary friend. It was a knight, and his young mind could only describe it as "blue" and "like glass." When he was alone, he would play with the knight, and started a little game with his older brother and younger sister when he introduced the knight to them, and they made their own imaginary friends. Little did Timothy know, however, that his siblings' imagined creations were far different to what he had, for as time went on, the knight's responses became purely his own, and Timothy slowly lost the need to parrot them. Like another person living in his head, the knight would comment on day-to-day life, and when the young Timothy eyed upon a Bible, the knight energetically pleaded the boy to read it. As little Tim read, his young mind was full of questions even from the starting book of Genesis. He would ask the knight in his head, who formally introduced himself as Cadwal of Godwyn, to explain it all for him, and he spent so many sleepless nights doing this sort of cooperative storytelling that his mother became worried at his lack of sleep and consulted a physician. On his third grade of elementary school, his family had to move elsewhere, and he was saddened by the sudden loss of friends; but Cadwal was always there and would never leave his mind. Upon his insistence, his father took him to Church one day, and was deeply happy at finally worshiping at a proper place. As he became older and thus more aware of the sheer unnaturality of his unique ability, Tim wondered if he could do more with it. Praying to God, and after consulting Cadwal, he tried to call out an angel to advise him on what to do when his parents were divorcing. However, the only being that faded into existence was not a magnificent scion of Heaven, but a short-lasting, flickering blue ghost of a woman in armor. Timothy could not but gasp "Who are you?" at the figure, who replied with a sagely "Who I am is not important. But your faith in God is," before fading back into nothingness. Encouraged by Cadwal, Timothy was henceforth convinced of his being blessed. Ever since then, he has been practicing and perfecting this unique ability of his by prayer and meditation. Speaking with wizened words, Timothy prevented his parents' divorce by driving them to tears as he preached about the sanctity and inviolability of the oaths a couple takes in their marriage ceremony, with the help of his two beloved siblings. --- **Other:** Drowning in early adolescent male hormones, Timothy wanted to masturbate once (just to try it) but was halted by Cadwal (whom he thought was sleeping), who lectured him fiercely of the value of the "seed" and how it must not be wasted.

[Chalcedon](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75113/posts/char?page=2#post-2322931)'s been transferred, boss.

**Name:** Chalcedon **Age:** 143 **Gender:** Male **Appearance:**  Underneath that suit of power armor is a true hulk of a man, standing proud at 8 feet and 5 inches with thick, powerful cables of muscle stretching taut bronze, hardened skin. Bald like a monk, fierce blue eyes stare out forth below bushy black eyebrows, and a stern face, chiseled with hard outlines like a Greek statue, scowls eternally. On many parts of his body, there are metal stubs that jut out forth from his very skin, marring his demigod physique, that let him interface with his power-armor’s machine spirit. Grotesque scars, each with a story to tell, and just as frequent as the stubs, also cover great swathes of his body. **Canon, AU, or OC?:** Canon. **Universe of Origin:** Warhammer 40,000 **Personality:** _ “For those I cherish, I die in glory!” – Chalcedon’s last words before being “killed”._ The sacred fraternity of the Lamenters is well-known throughout the Imperium for its compassion towards the common man, the people whom they swore to protect, and Chalcedon is no exception. Though having seen death and ruin enough to fill a thousand lifetimes, he remains a proud paladin of virtue, and through his veins the kindness of Sanguinius flows with the strong pounding of his twin hearts. But while such compassion is considered as weakness by some, Chalcedon shows none of it for the enemies of mankind, showing only hatred and delivering righteous fury. Indeed, he would go to great lengths to save a single human life – provided, of course, the tactical situation wouldn’t go awry from the action. The Emperor loves His servants and citizens, and perhaps the Lamenters are a personification of that love through the geneseed of the Blood Angels. Mild-mannered and soft-spoken for a Space Marine, the only battlecries he yells amid the chaos of the battlefield are those that may inspire his allies. He needs not to even taunt the enemy, for they are below him, and whatever message he may wish to convey, they may receive duly and justly at the nose of a bolter round. The Adeptus Astartes' primary mission is to protect and serve. And by the Emperor, Chalcedon will protect and serve. **Abilities/Weapons:** **_Equipment:_** - **Power Armor, Astartes Mark VII Aquila-pattern:** Constructed in the holiest forges using arcane alloys of adamantium and plasteel, and coated with an ablative layer of ceramite, truly is this set of powered armor fitting for the distant grandson of a literal God, the noble paladin that is a Space Marine. Worth more than a thousand mortal souls, it shrugs off lasers, bullets and witchcraft alike as if they were nothing. Without it, a Space Marine is but a mere goliath on the battlefield. With it – and he is never seen without it – he is a god of war. In addition to its protective value, the Mark VII has got a suite of sensors to smell, see, or hear the enemy from kilometers away. Vacuum-proofed, a Space Marine is able to fight in the airless void of space, and its advanced NBC facilities render the perils of any environment be it radioactive, biological or chemical, utterly nil. Machine spirits and other software are run by a powerful cogitator that analyzes the battlefield in real-time and tags the enemy, ensuring that they do not get away from their coming redemption. - **Bolter, Astartes MK Vb Godwyn-pattern:** The primary weapon for most Space Marines, the Bolter is the foremost cleansing tool when dealing with horrid existences such as aliens, mutants, heretics and traitors. Firing a .75-caliber rocket-propelled grenade at 700 rounds per minute, one projectile is more than enough to gore a man inside-out. Built-in sensors and automatic targeting software can communicate with those in a Space Marine’s suit to provide accuracy that is unmatched. This automatic weapon is optimally held with both hands and is iconic of the Adeptus Astartes. - **Chainsword, Redeemer-pattern:** It is well that the chainsword is so common in the arsenals of the Space Marines, for what is a knight without his blade? Or rather, hundreds of them, powered by a promethium-fueled motor to let them rev and churn against the enemy’s flesh, turning the foe into mincemeat and gore. A cross between a chainsaw and a sword, it is a true battlefield weapon whose teeth, made of monomolecular-sharp adamantium blades, will cut through steel and muscle alike almost without effort. - **Frag Grenade, Type 23 Talvir-pattern:** These are potent fragmentation grenades whose purpose is to kill infantry with blast and shrapnel. With a high yield and a large blast radius, these grenades are effective situational weapons. - **Krak Grenade, Mark 14 Katana-pattern:** These are potent anti-tank grenades whose purpose is to destroy armored vehicles with a single, earth-shattering blast. With a high yield and a target-reactive construction that focuses it in such a small blast radius, these grenades will devour and destroy any tank-sized armored foe. _**Personal Skills and Abilities:**_ - **Angel of Death:** If the Immortal Emperor of Mankind – praise be His Name – is Humanity’s one true God, then the Space Marines, the glorious Adeptus Astartes, are his Angels. Though they are not angels of comfort, but rather, they are angels of death. Their wings are not made of immaculate, silken feathers but of screaming rocket engines. Their music is not played with the serene melodies of a harp, but with the loud roar of a bolter or the revving of a chainsword. Whereas other angels will inspire you with love or joy, Space Marines will inspire you with terror and fear. Chalcedon is one such monstrosity, and he, along with his peers, is a super-soldier, a warrior almost without equal in the galaxy he calls home. If the subject is warfare, be it trench, maneuver or blitz; be it melee or ranged, Chalcedon knows it all, as warring is the only purpose of his existence. - **Secondary Heart:** Chalcedon, like all other Space Marines, has had a secondary heart grafted into his system, which allows him to survive his other heart being crippled. He also benefits from the improved bloodflow offered by the extra organ. - **Ossmodula:** This implant has modified the growth of Chalcedon’s bones during his growing years, making them larger and stronger. In addition, it has caused his ribcage to expand, thicken, and fuse its members to become a solid, bulletproof shield of interlocking demigod bone. - **Biscopea:** Serving as a hormonal basis for the implantation of other organs, the Biscopea also encourages heavy muscle growth. As such, Chalcedon is now a true hulk of a man, as strong as the giants of legend. - **Haemastamen:** Space Marines benefit from this tiny implant in that their blood becomes more efficient at carrying oxygen from an increased haemoglobin content. - **Larraman’s Organ:** Blessed be Saint Larraman for forging this sacred implant, for it allows Space Marines to survive even the most grievous of wounds. This organ releases Larraman’s Cells if Chalcedon is wounded, and immediately seals the offending injury with a near-instantaneous generation of scar tissue. - **Catalepsean Node:** This implant makes it so that Space Marines require but 4 hours of sleep daily, and can potentially go for 2 weeks fully awake. Switching off and turning on areas of his brain during sleep smartly, it also allows a Space Marine to sense his environment during slumber, ensuring that he does not get ambushed. - **Preomonor:** This is a pre-stomach that can isolate or neutralize poisonous or otherwise indigestible foods. This organ allows a Space Marine to eat almost anything. - **Omophagea:** A specialized brain implant that allows a Space Marine to “learn by eating,” by allowing him to read the genetic memory of his meal. So, even if one decides not to talk till death, a Space Marine may simply take a bite out of his flesh and extract roughly what he wants to know. - **Multi-lung:** This third lung activates when a Space Marine enters a low-oxygen environment or even water, and allows him to breathe in both. With highly-efficient toxin dispersal systems, this organ allows a Space Marine to breathe even poison gas. - **Occulobe:** With the help of this organ, the Apothecaries of the Lamenters, through their blessed work, has given Chalcedon and his brothers superior eyesight, and allowed them to see in night almost as well as in the day. - **Lyman’s Ear:** Lyman’s blessed organ allows a Space Marine to hear sounds normally inaudible, to a point where he can almost – almost – hear his own muscles contracting and expanding. It also renders him immune to dizziness and motion sickness. - **Sus-an Membrane:** This implant merges with a Space Marine’s brain and allows him to enter in a state of suspended animation, preserving his body for years, activated at his command or when extreme trauma is inflicted upon him. The longest recorded period spent in suspended animation was undertaken by Brother Silas Err of the Dark Angels, who was revived after 567 years. - **Melanchromic Organ:** This implant will increase or decrease the melanin level of a Marine’s skin depending on the intensity of sunlight. It also protects the Marine, to a point, against other kinds of radiation. - **Oolitic Kidney:** In conjunction with the secondary heart, the Space Marine can filter his blood with this organ very rapidly, rendering him immune to most poisons. The drawback is that the Marine must stay unconscious while his blood is circulated at a very high speed. - **Neuroglottis:** This enhances the Space Marine’s sense of taste to the point where he can track down his target by taste alone. - **Mucranoid:** This implant allows a Space Marine to sweat a substance that coats the skin and offers extreme resistance against the heat and cold, and can even provide a measure of protection in the void of space. Activated only by Apothecarian rites, it is common to do so when a Space Marine is expected to fight in space. - **Betcher’s Gland:** This implant allows a Space Marine to spit a blinding contact poison so corrosive that, given time, it can even break strong metals. - **Black Carapace:** The most distinctive implant, this resembles a firm, black plastic that is implanted directly underneath a Space Marine’s skin. Having matured, Chalcedon’s Black Carapace, like the ones of other Astartes, is fitted with neural sensors and interface points with which he can synchronize with his power armor. Chalcedon, being a member of the Lamenters, does not suffer from the Black Rage nor the Red Thirst thanks to the borderline-heretical genetic tampering by the Priesthood of Mars during the conception of his chapter. **Backstory:** _ “I am no longer Chalcedon, son of Makedon, but Chalcedon, son of Sanguinius, the Beatific One, and am now until forever an instrument of war of the Immortal Emperor, praise be His Name. I will be the arrow that fires from His bow, the blade of His sword, the mail around His fist, as I join the sacred fraternity of the Adeptus Astartes.” – Excerpt from Chalcedon’s initiation oaths._ Chalcedon was born on the feral world of Turkje in the year 40,849 AD with a pedigree of warriorhood and was recruited as an adolescent by the Lamenters chapter as their fleet passed by. Passing through the painful trials of a space marine neophyte, surmounting the mounds of bodies of failed candidates that collected over the years, Chalcedon, after serving honorably for three decades as a scout in the 10th Company, was promoted to full battle-brotherhood and given his own set of power armor. Beginning the Eternal War as a true Astartes battle-brother in the 9th Company, Chalcedon hacked, gored, shot and detonated foes as he rose up to the 8th, 7th and 6th Companies. Chalcedon also fought against other Space Marines in the dissident Badab War, particularly distinguishing himself when the Minotaurs chapter attacked the Lamenters’ fortress-monastery. Personally taking down five enemy Space Marines with bolter and chainsword – and not without lament, for he was forced to slay his own brothers – he was promoted during post-war chapter reorganization to a place in the 5th Company as a tactical marine and awarded several orders of merit, though no honors could placate his aching hearts as over 500 Marines of the Lamenters perished in a pointless conflict. He was there when the chapter was sentenced to a century-long penitent crusade, and he was there when it ended: serving in the 5th Company as a Sergeant – and intending to do so till his death, having formed a strong bond with the members of that unit – Chalcedon spent the last century of the 41st millennium fighting hard as a Space Marine should against, amongst others, the horror that was the Tyranid Hive Fleet ominously named Kraken. Planet after planet, his chapter, the Lamenters, defended, though at a great cost each battle, for while Space Marines are gods of war, they are not infallible, and numbers can overwhelm. Every engagement had them face tens of thousands of Tyranids at the least and over a trillion at the worst. When the chapter had only 300 Space Marines left, out of the 1,000 it should have, Chalcedon’s twin hearts sunk into inconsolable sorrow and became as cold as the void of space. Chalcedon met a poetic end as he was struck by a Zoanthrope’s psychic bolt the moment his chapter was cut off of communications with Imperial command. However, instead of being guided to the Emperor’s Palace, or becoming a paladin of the Legion of the Damned, what Chalcedon found after death was… a whole new world. Or rather, a whole mess of them. **Faction:** Chalcedon’s loyalty lies with the Emperor of Mankind and nobody else!

Doesn't seem like anyone's willing to GM.

Let me get a CS up. Hold on for a bit.