About Simmins OlwaysHeavy Gunner Simmins Olways Looks: A shock of thick black hair contrasts with a clean shaven and scarred face on this heavy set guardsman.
WS 30
Random Wounds: 10+1d5+2 (regiment) +1 (Sound Constitution)= 17
Aptitudes:
Previous Heavy Gunner
Skills: Regiment - Athletics,
Starting Talents:
One with the Land: +10 Know/Trade/Survival for domesticated beasts, harvest, climate, crops
Favored Weapons: +10 to acquisition tests for weapons and ammo for Heavy Stubber and Basic Flamer: Basic Kit
2 Fragmentation Grenades
Specialty:
Requisition:
Specialty:
Experience spend. Xp|Description|Comment|When|Total|Left over
Comrade: Cort Nathin, Bilious Quick Background: Simmins Olways was always going into the guard as the village he hails from has had a long tradition of the second born son being sent into the Guard (while the first born takes over the family trade or farm from the father). So he's got a calm acceptance of his fate. He figures that the best way he can prove that he's being favored by the Emperor is by not dying while not shirking his duty. His Comrade Cort Nathin is from the same village, unlike Simmins he hates that he was made to conscript and is a sour man. He's loyal to Olways though. Archived:
WS = 15+20+5= 40 BS = 7 + 20+5+1 = 33 S = 12 + 20 = 32 T = 15 + 15 = 30 Agi = 11 +20 = 31 Int = 7 + 20 = 27 Per = 8 + 20 = 28 WP = 13 + 20+1 = 34 Fel = 11 + 25 = 36 Wounds: 1d5 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13 + 2 for Sound Constitution = 15
Traits
Skills: Speak Language (Hive Dialect) Int
Talents: Melee Weapon Training (Primitive)
Gear: Mono Axe 1d10+1+3 R; Pen 2; Unbalanced Shield 1d5 I; Pen 0; Primitive, Defensive Shotgun Range 30m; S/-/-; 1d10+4 I; Pen 0; Clip 2; Reload 2 Full; Two handed; Reliable, Scatter, (20 shells) Lasgun Range 100m; S/3/-; 1d10+3 E; Pen 0; Clip 60; Reload 1 Full; Two handed; Reliable (2 charge pack) Laspistol Range 30m; S/-/-; 1d10+2 E; Pen 0; Clip 30; Reload 1 Full; Reliable (2 charge pack) Autogun 90m; S/3/10; 1d10+3 I; Pen 0; Clip 30; Reload 1 Full; Two handed; None (30 shells) Knife 1d5 R; Pen 0; Primitive Guard Flak Armour 4/4/4/4 (+1 all Indirect Blast) Uniform (Common Quality) 1 week corpse starch rations mercenary license Frag Grenade 2d10 X; Pen 0; Blast (4) (5) Starting XP Spend: 100 WS characteristic
Earned XP Spend 100 Sound Constitution
Earned XP Saved
Starting Wealth Spend:
[spoiler=Fluff and Background]
For the surface of Insol-8 is more akin to a frozen Death World than a Hive World. Roiling tempests, some millennia old, roll over the tortured land showering down seemingly endless storms of dagger like ice shards stabbing into a pock marked landscape close in temperature to absolute zero. Elsewhere drifts of snow as large as continents shift and morph, sculpted into alien forms by the ceaseless howling wind before being blown flat again. It is only the stability of the stolid crust underneath the hellish frozen surface and the vast riches of mineral wealth deeper still that has drawn the attention of the Imperium. Once it was discovered that boreholes and solid vents and shafts could be tunneled deep into the crust with only minimal engineering a project was launched to create a mining outpost. Success breeds success and the initial post was expanded again and again under the auspices of the barely human servitors from the Adeptus Mechanicus with orders only to dig. Now a vast underground rat's nest many layers deep has been created. Vast mining complexes plumb the riches of the planet and a dizzying number of Hab tunnels house the countless millions of miner-citizens.Initially brought in from other Hive and Penal Worlds the population of Insol-8 has been self-sustaining now for generations. Giving the planet worth as it spouts out raw materials to feed the endless wars of the 41st Millenium. It is this that Simmins Olways calls home, born and raised a few layers underground. Insulated from the worst of the frigid temperature that the poor wretches on the highest layers of the OverHive suffer from but far far from the warm and comfortable bottom tunnels that the nobility of Insol 8 reside in. The very bottom nadirs of the man wrought inverted stalactites so close to the molten core of the planet that snow from the surface is carted down to create hot springs and saunas; pleasure that Simmins can not even fathom. For he has known only bone chilling temperature and a constant numbness. Life is harsh, so harsh that even to survive for his 36 years is an accomplishment. Strong, hardy and ruthless from a very young age has been a part of the militia that patrols his area of the OverHive. In any other place the militia would seem more like a gang but it is disciplined with enough uniform and structure and to keep at least some order as the miner-residents fight to protect what little they have from the unscrupulous bandits and thieves that constantly harass and seek to steal and loot the precious glow sticks and warmth pellets that are more precious than life itself. But Simmins is a survivor and with his axe and much prized shotgun has killed many an intruder. Since a particularly violent ambush in which Simmins was lured away from his fellows and assaulted from the shadows by a pack of 5 bandits he has been having disturbing dreams. He survived the ambush screaming in rage as he used his trusty axe to slaughter them all even as he was wounded and scarred by their crude daggers in turn. Many hours later he was found shivering and comatose lying soaked in their blood and efflua. Since then at least once a week he dreams of it, the blood, the smell, and most of all the warmth of their life fluids as it splattered over him. For the first time in his life he had not felt cold. This disturbs him and his neighbours notice that he has seemed blunt and has started to patrol alone with shadowed eyes. Word of his deed has spread through the Hive enough that the looters and bandits avoid him even though he should be easy prey for their vicious pack tactics. It is in one of these patrols that Simmins spies a lone figure skulking through the tunnels that he calls home. Driven by the need to protect his territory Simmins screams and charges the figure bringing his axe down in a vicious chop that should have ended the mysterious human's life but was instead easily parried by the figure's blade. This is how Simmins, now an Acolyte, met his Inquistor. Earlier he might have resisted the offer to join the Inquisition preferring to protect the only home he has known, but now, wanting to hopefully escape the dreams of blood and warmth in service to the Emperor he agrees.
|
