Fandom Characters for Battle on Torvaren V

[Calliborc]

Name: Feel free to include rank here too, if you'd like.

Regiment:

Battlefield Specialty:

Equipment: Bear in mind, they'd be a regular (barring anything regarding their regiment) human trekking, largely on foot, through a predominantly mountainous landscape, so that might affect what they're bringing with them. But don't let that get in the way of character quirks. Also, no need to list everything, just the notable stuff.

Appearance: Just anything you feel is worth mentioning, no need to go into minute detail.

Background: Again, anything you feel is worth mentioning about them personally or their equipment, assuming you didn't list the equipment bit in that section.

Miscellaneous: Just anything that didn't fit in the other sections.

 

[Worthlessplebian]

Art by FonteArt on DAName: Sgt Anton Maine - Vaughn;

Regiment: Armageddon Steel Legion;

Battlefield Specialty: Urban Warfare - Hazardous Enviroments;

Equipment:
- M36 Pattern Lasgun;
- 3 Lasgun Charge Packs;
- Laspistol;
- Chainsword;
- Steel Legion Guardsman uniform;

Appearance: Anton is archetypal of the average Armageddon hiver, from his pale, dry skin wrought by the sunless, polluted sky to the sooty, jet hair shortened to Militarum regulations. His eyes are brown like the rust on a moored lighter, possessed of a certain hardness from sights man should not observe. One half of his face is scarred, a streak of puckered white flesh stretched to his left ear, that too was mangled and scarred. A lasgun shot.

Background: Born to a single mother in the industrial squalor of Armageddon's Infernus Hive. His early life was hounded by the grinding noise of heavy machinery, smoke-stacks that stretched towards the sky as though they were long, spindly fingers clawing at the sky, and the secretive, nefarious dealings of brutal Hive-gangers. The young boy always looked to the upper levels where the industry barons and their families engorged and blinded by unimaginable wealth, stricken with profound envy and boundless wonder, but resolved to his humble origins. As he grew the envy died out from the young man when he saw the ragged, rotten corpse of a former noble in the dirt and grime of the underhive — a casualty of the twisting, multi-layered schemes of nobility. Let the wealthy have their gold-plated spires, the young man concluded that they were no better than the cutthroat gangers that waged the endless turf wars.

Anton knew that his only escape from the jaws of destitution lied in the path to Armageddon's Astra Militarum, the Steel Legion. And with Armageddon's extensive, and ravenous, tithings Anton would soon have his wish fulfilled. When the young man had been folded into the ranks of the Guardsmen, Anton had discovered that the identity of his absent father: Commissar Bran Vaughn. It would've been easy for Anton to hate his father, the years in poverty, in sickness, without a bright spot. But the Guardsman found it hollow, empty; he could not summon the molten rage in his heart to hate the man. Indeed, he even allowed a begrudging respect to grow after a year or two in the Guard, nowadays carrying a chainsword in his honor.

Miscellaneous: N/A;

 

[Abstracty]

Name: Petrik Szack

Regiment: 4th Conscript Regiment, Torvaren III

Battlefield Specialty: None, survival was not expected

Equipment: Kantrael MG Ia Infantry Lasgun
Lasgun Bayonet
Trench Shovel
Guardsman Uniform
Improvised gasoline bomb

Appearance: A gaunt and short figure, Petrik does not stand out in any crowd. Years of labour in industrialized algae farming have left his skin pale, contrasting with his reddish brown hair which hasn't even been cut before he was hurled into the blender, leaving it to appear very unkempt compared to other guardsmen.Tired grey-blue eyes, some beard stubbles and minor bruises on the hands, otherwise unremarkable in appearance.

Background: Hailing from a dedicated agri-world in the Torvaren sector, Petrik grew up in the squalor of his planets working class. His slender frame allowed him to partake in cleaning duties inside many of the agricultural transportation systems, a miserable and dangerous work. Once he did grow to large for this, he was assigned labour as an algae farmer, living a monotonous life only interrupted by ceremonies dedicated to the emperor. When war came to Torvaren V, he was drafted alongside other randomly selected workers to fulfill the conscription quota set by the governor. Hurled into the airstrip assault without much training, his unit was one of the first to be wiped out, but through luck and his experience navigating impossible obstacles and narrow tunnels he escaped.

Miscellaneous: N/A