Jermaie Dael's page

About Jermaie Dael

Description: Jermaie Dael of the Craglands is a rather handsome man, with a sculpted mouth and high cheekbones and a growth of stringy brown hair that falls down to his shoulders. He is not the strongest in the company, nor the fastest, but he is well built and lithe enough to suit all ranges of his company's special brand of warfare. He has trouble growing facial hair, with only the slightest bit of stubble appearing even after a few days without going under a razor. That fact, coupled with his ever growing repertoire of bad luck with the damsels, led to his nickname, "chaste."

Jermaie is a courageous and boisterous warrior, with a fierce loyalty to complement his brazen hardiness in combat. Jermaie has a habit of calling anybody of a higher rank, "Lord," and will treat any such man with the utmost respect as long as he believes they deserve it. Jermaie does not think much of anybody in a position of power who quite obviously is unprepared for it. Jermaie is a good-natured and likeable lad, but gives no quarter in combat, and will go to any lengths to protect his companions, except, perhaps, if he believes those same companions deserve their fate. Every man is in charge of themselves, as they say.

Jermaie's armor, like the armor of most of the warriors of the Craglands, is a metal covered in upturned and downturned spikes of every sort, from metal forged ones to the teeth and claws of a hundred different predators. The reason for the spikes is to prevent one of the numerous humongous creatures of the Craglands from swallowing the warrior whole. The spikes catch on the inside of the throat of the creature, and it is the last hope of each and every warrior caught like so that the creature be felled before he is forced down its gullet. Jermaie's armor is unique in that on his right shoulder sits a piece of what looks like a tortoise's shell, but is actually stronger than any of the steel it sits on. Because of the spikes covering his armor, Jermaie's Aquila had to be placed on the shoulder-plate, but no branding was capable of being placed on such a plate such that a metal Aquila had to be welded in place on top.

Jermaie was born and raised in Heldrast Pike in the Craglands, but that wasn't ever really important. On Heghland, it was never the place you were born or who you were born to that defined who you were. It was always the man that made the man, as they used to say. Sure, there were the lords and the ladies and such, but those were a part of necessity and not of wanton power. Heghland was as deadly as any death world in the Imperium and beyond, but its deadly forests had bred a people ripe with individuality and a unique sense of pride. Men were free to take what names they wished. Jermaie, as soon as he was able to hold his sword properly, left his small keep and his lords behind and set out with a group of free-riders, the Starfallen, working for the lords and kings in the Craglands that asked for their assistance.

Jermaie took his surname from one of the greatest beasts of the Craglands, the dreaded Dael, a monolithic tortoise creature with a shell harder than even the best forged steel or castle wall, an aptitude at stealth that defied its size and a gaping maw that could and did, often, swallow men and women whole. Jermaie's first contact with the Imperium came at a time where he and his freeriders had been stalking a pack of shadow lepers when they were ambushed by the largest Dael Jermaie had ever witnessed. The fighting that resulted was brutal, ending with Jermaie and his companymen pinned against the side of a rockface, most of the others crushed beneath the things massive legs or digesting slowly in the belly of the creature.

One of the few left alive, Jermaie prepared himself for his final heroic charge when an unfamiliar dialect was heard from scant meters away. "Let fly, melta-bomb," it said as a melon-sized red canister was flung at the great Dael. Within seconds there was nothing left of the once-great creature. It's hide had burst and melted under the strange implement's impact, leaving nothing but the hardened shell and the boiled remnants of the creature's blood behind. The men that exited from the forest afterwards were swaddled in strange clothing, sharp and alien looking. Jermaie picked up a piece of the great creature's exploded shell and stared at wonder at these strange men and their magic, magic that had brought low one of the most admirably terrifying creatures on the planet.

Jermaie soon learned that these men had come from far off worlds, that they had made pacts with the great Lords and Kings from the Craglands and all over Heghland, and that it was his duty to serve in these strange men's armies. Whilst Jermaie took to this calling initially as just one more chance to make a name for himself, he soon learned that a guardsman's life is a far cry from his previous one. Warrior he may be still, Jermaie would never again know the freedom that accompanied his previous life.

Weapon Skill: 2d10 ⇒ (4, 7) = 11 + 20 + 3 + 5 = 39
Ballistic Skill: 2d10 ⇒ (10, 7) = 17 + 20 + 5 = 42
Strength: 2d10 ⇒ (6, 3) = 9 + 20 + 3 = 32
Toughness: 2d10 ⇒ (5, 6) = 11 + 20 = 31
Agility: 2d10 ⇒ (7, 8) = 15 + 20 + 5 = 40
Intelligence: 2d10 ⇒ (6, 3) = 9 + 20 = 29
Perception: 2d10 ⇒ (8, 8) = 16 + 20 + 3 = 39
Willpower: 2d10 ⇒ (3, 2) = 5 + 20 = 25
Fellowship: 2d10 ⇒ (9, 1) = 10 + 20 - 3 + 5 = 32

Wounds: 1/12

Fate Points: 0/1

Fatigue: 0

Insanity Points: 0

Corruption Points: 0

Experience: Unspent: 0, Spent: 2850, Total: 2850, Expenditure: Agility Simple Increase(100), Hip Shooting(300), Lightning Reflexes(200), Dodge Skill - Known(200), Parry Skill - Known(200), Awareness Skill - Known(200), Comrade Advance - Hail of Fire(300), Stealth Sniper(300), Disarm(300), Acrobatics Skill(100), Dodge Skill - Trained(400), Weapon Skill Simple Increase(250), Fellowship Simple Increase(Free)

Armor: - Feudal World Plate; 5 All, 30Kg

Ammo and Weapon Status:
Poor Craftsmanship Storm Bolter (60/60); 0 Reloads
Poor Craftsmanship Bolter (24/24); 3 Reloads full, 1 reload (4/24)
Frag Grenades; 4
Blind Grenades; 2
Stun Grenades; 2
Krak Grenades; 0
Sword ("Chastener")
Knife

Comrade: Narine Cassel of Upton Pike Killed in Action
Disposition: Steely
Description: Narine is a rather thin wiry woman with close-cropped red hair and a thin mouth that complements her small, angular, fixed eyes and beaky nose. She was a hunter and trapper up on the Northern fell of Upton Pike in the Craglands, an area notorious for its flights of murderous scavenger birds. She has a hard, analyzing gaze and a taciturn demeanor which, combined with her prenatural stealth capabilities, makes it easy for her to sneak up on people, and even easier to scare them in doing so. She and Jermaie work well as a team, he with his natural bravado, loyalty and good-natured camaraderie and her with her tactical sensibilities and efficient warrior prowess.