Post by Shagrath on Jun 1, 2011 18:08:39 GMT -5
Shagrath:
Name: Azazel The Tormenter
God: Slaanesh
Class: Noise Raptor
Basic Load out: Agonizer whip, Bolt Pistol, Doom Siren
Physical Description: Azazel is towering, even for a Chaos Space Marine standing at 9 feet in height out of armor. His legs have been replaced with enhanced triple jointed bionics to better take off and land from flight jumps. These titanium skeleton of these legs is wrapped in the flesh of his previous ruined legs and daemonically enhanced, ending in veracious flesh rending long talons. His armor is set in erotic imagery, engraved with depravity, tortures, sexual acts, genocides, and arcane runes. It’s colored lavishly, with a deep dark almost black purple color, trimmed in the brightest silvers. The arcane runes simmer lightly in an enchanted blue. Garish trophies adorn him, skulls, and the flayed skins of worthy adversaries are mounted on spikes and trophy racks.
From his back he sports a pair of lusciously multi colored avian wings. The plumage predominately black, with feathers matching his armor. Purple and blue feathers scattered about in a dazzling array. Within his beautiful wings hide a terrible secret. His doom siren: hidden amplifiers and speakers are sparkled across the span. Invisible save for a glint of dull metal off the light.
The rest of him is less beautiful. His entire body is marked, skin marred by rampant scarification, and tattoos. Every one tells a story, every scar a kill another soul for slaanesh, every tattoo another rune or tribute to his god. As with his wings, there is another daemonic siren ready to wail in anguish and rage embedded in his torso. His hair retains it’s sheen and is well taken care of. Azazel’s face is covered in tattoos and runes as well. Chaos stars and iconography of slaanesh criss cross his eyes and mouth, which inside hosts teeth filed to a point and the long serpentine tongue of a Fiend.
Personality: Azazel is a deeply disturbed individual that enjoys torturing his victims as much as killing them. A sociopath to the highest degree, with a soft heart and kind words Azazel can worm his way through any situation, then when the time is right strike with great rage and vehemence catching his victims off guard showing his true colors. Quick in wit and in speech Azazel leaves no time for anyone to think in conversation. He has an obsession with sound and perfection through modification and through the years has trained himself to change the pitch and timber of his voice at a whim to further disorient.
In battle he looks for the weak points in the enemy lines, structural flaws within the ranks. He’ll soar above them, raining down a hail of bolter fire or literally drowning them in sound. Scattering them with grenades driving the lines to flee in terror, causing confusion and panic wounding them. Allowing for easier pickings when the rest of the troops get there.
History:
Truly Azazel is a fallen angel. Once a member of the Blood Angels Chapter of the Space Marines, Azazel fell to the ruinous powers centuries ago. A mid rank marine and of the elite Sanguinary Guard, also their greatest folly. Azazel is said to have been fell agaist the agents of chaos to his chapter brothers, and it is written within that his body was never found, destroyed in the exterminatus of another planet before they could recover it. It was on that day that a Daemon Prince took him away, astounded by his brevity, and skill in combat. It was a beautiful thing, and Slaanesh had plans for him yet.
Unbeknownst to him at the time, daemons had been talking to him, whispering sweet nothings and pushing him to the alters of Slaanesh within the pleasure cults searching for an alleged relic he saw in a dream where he was reported to be felled.
Aseigan Cetanu:
Name: Vomicor Caedis
Chaos god: Nurgle
Class: Chaos Raptor
Basic Loadout: Bolt Pistol, Aggoniser
Physical Description: Standing tall and thickly set in his power armor, Vomicor is an impressive sight by any soldier's standards. Two great wings, their entire surface festering with boils and open, infected wounds from which daemonic parasites crawl, protrude from his back, replacing the jump jets most of his kind use. His helm depicts a face smiling an insane smile, previously melted metal running tears from the eyes. Above his grin, a long, thick horn, like that of a rhino, stabs at the sky. Flakes of dead skin and decay fall from Vomicor constantly, covering the ground in his wake, and the Nurgling Swarm which follows him feeds on these when they are not busy tormenting his foes. On one hip hands a sizable pistol, the Bolter pistol; on the other hip, a whip hangs loosely, the Aggoniser, and his hand seems to hover near it always.
Personality: Vomicor is an outgoing sort of guy, usually optimistic and always ready to bring pain, filth, and illness wherever he goes. He nearly constantly bears a smile under his helm, even in the face of death - whether from his relatively good nature or his utter insanity in the face of his existence, nobody is sure. His demeanor and actions suggest the latter, however; in either the face of death or victory, his mindset is the same: Strike Hard, Strike Fast, and let all who would deny Nurgle know the power of his plagues.
History: Vomicor, like so many other children on the Imperial worlds, knew war through all of his life. Even as a young one it was clear he'd never be right - perhaps never 'dangerous', but never right. He was always a very quiet, reserved child, and he kept mostly to himself - that is, until the Chaos Marines came. His entire colony was taken captive, and the children, such as him, were seeded as marines in a long and brutal process not even he remembers. His first memory after the followers of what is now his god dragged him from the basement, laughing and rotting before his eyes, is to open his eyes one morning, clad in this new armor, years later, with one goal and one goal only in mind: to further Nurgle, to bring disease, and to do as he was told. The seeding worked exceedingly well on him, and not only his body but his mind was changed into a weapon of the same Chaos god who had stolen his life from him. Over the course of his long life, in service of Nurgle, he has slaughtered many Imperium soldiers, and has earned the Great Unclean One's favor, evident in the filth and nurglings which shadow him.
Fireblight
Name: Zarqah Srepor
God: Tzeentch
Class: Aspiring Sorcerer
Basic Load out: Bolter, Force weapon (sword)
Psychic Powers: Bolt of Change, Doombolt, Wind of Chaos
Physical Description: Zarqah is a mid-height and sinewy Chaos Space Marine female whose almost grey skin has been carved multiple scars and wounds during battles. As a result of mutation her body is covered with spikes in places giving her advantage and protection also when not wearing her armor. Her dark brown hair is tied up to a chignon and is most of the time covered with her helmet. Her armor is dark blue, the color ranging from ocean-green to sky-blue depending on the lightning, and covers her legs, shoulders, chest and stomach. On the right shoulder’s armor there is also a symbol of Tzeentch as a sign to her god. The rest of the body is upholstered with bandages made of steel firm fiber. Hanging from her loins and arms there are parts of robe which chord with the golden orange tribal-like markings on her armor. On her back Zarqah has a jump pack that helps her to get quickly from one place to another through air. As a sorcerer she carries her sword always with her and is never willing to let it away from her hands.
Personality: Zarqah is somewhat quiet and withdrawn but under the surface it boils; her twisted mind is constantly scheming and never leaves her alone. In action she is purposeful and calm and won’t let any kind of distraction ruin her performance. When fighting, she quickly learns the opponent’s tactics and is also able to posses and apply them for her own ways. That’s why her style is never pure but a mixture of numerous different tactics and styles. Even though Zarqah is comparatively skilled and crafty fighter she often indulges to her greatest weakness, arrogance; overrating her own skills incurs her defeat. If she was free to decide she would solve problems by talking and with reason but when being pissed off enough she won’t hesitate to use force.
History: Zarqah was a Librarian before falling to Chaos. She had always known that she knew more than the others and her willing to know led her closer and closer to Tzeentch. Secretly she hoped she could increase her powers no matter what it cost. Tzeentch had heard her thoughts and offered the possibility of an access to eternal knowledge and power beyond measure if she would do as he wanted for the rest of her life. Zarqah agreed and was granted with powers impossible to compare to her earlier psychic gifts. Little by little led and modified by Tzeentch she became more and more aware of the mighty powers of Chaos and turned her back on her former life for good.
Name: Azazel The Tormenter
God: Slaanesh
Class: Noise Raptor
Basic Load out: Agonizer whip, Bolt Pistol, Doom Siren
Physical Description: Azazel is towering, even for a Chaos Space Marine standing at 9 feet in height out of armor. His legs have been replaced with enhanced triple jointed bionics to better take off and land from flight jumps. These titanium skeleton of these legs is wrapped in the flesh of his previous ruined legs and daemonically enhanced, ending in veracious flesh rending long talons. His armor is set in erotic imagery, engraved with depravity, tortures, sexual acts, genocides, and arcane runes. It’s colored lavishly, with a deep dark almost black purple color, trimmed in the brightest silvers. The arcane runes simmer lightly in an enchanted blue. Garish trophies adorn him, skulls, and the flayed skins of worthy adversaries are mounted on spikes and trophy racks.
From his back he sports a pair of lusciously multi colored avian wings. The plumage predominately black, with feathers matching his armor. Purple and blue feathers scattered about in a dazzling array. Within his beautiful wings hide a terrible secret. His doom siren: hidden amplifiers and speakers are sparkled across the span. Invisible save for a glint of dull metal off the light.
The rest of him is less beautiful. His entire body is marked, skin marred by rampant scarification, and tattoos. Every one tells a story, every scar a kill another soul for slaanesh, every tattoo another rune or tribute to his god. As with his wings, there is another daemonic siren ready to wail in anguish and rage embedded in his torso. His hair retains it’s sheen and is well taken care of. Azazel’s face is covered in tattoos and runes as well. Chaos stars and iconography of slaanesh criss cross his eyes and mouth, which inside hosts teeth filed to a point and the long serpentine tongue of a Fiend.
Personality: Azazel is a deeply disturbed individual that enjoys torturing his victims as much as killing them. A sociopath to the highest degree, with a soft heart and kind words Azazel can worm his way through any situation, then when the time is right strike with great rage and vehemence catching his victims off guard showing his true colors. Quick in wit and in speech Azazel leaves no time for anyone to think in conversation. He has an obsession with sound and perfection through modification and through the years has trained himself to change the pitch and timber of his voice at a whim to further disorient.
In battle he looks for the weak points in the enemy lines, structural flaws within the ranks. He’ll soar above them, raining down a hail of bolter fire or literally drowning them in sound. Scattering them with grenades driving the lines to flee in terror, causing confusion and panic wounding them. Allowing for easier pickings when the rest of the troops get there.
History:
Truly Azazel is a fallen angel. Once a member of the Blood Angels Chapter of the Space Marines, Azazel fell to the ruinous powers centuries ago. A mid rank marine and of the elite Sanguinary Guard, also their greatest folly. Azazel is said to have been fell agaist the agents of chaos to his chapter brothers, and it is written within that his body was never found, destroyed in the exterminatus of another planet before they could recover it. It was on that day that a Daemon Prince took him away, astounded by his brevity, and skill in combat. It was a beautiful thing, and Slaanesh had plans for him yet.
Unbeknownst to him at the time, daemons had been talking to him, whispering sweet nothings and pushing him to the alters of Slaanesh within the pleasure cults searching for an alleged relic he saw in a dream where he was reported to be felled.
Aseigan Cetanu:
Name: Vomicor Caedis
Chaos god: Nurgle
Class: Chaos Raptor
Basic Loadout: Bolt Pistol, Aggoniser
Physical Description: Standing tall and thickly set in his power armor, Vomicor is an impressive sight by any soldier's standards. Two great wings, their entire surface festering with boils and open, infected wounds from which daemonic parasites crawl, protrude from his back, replacing the jump jets most of his kind use. His helm depicts a face smiling an insane smile, previously melted metal running tears from the eyes. Above his grin, a long, thick horn, like that of a rhino, stabs at the sky. Flakes of dead skin and decay fall from Vomicor constantly, covering the ground in his wake, and the Nurgling Swarm which follows him feeds on these when they are not busy tormenting his foes. On one hip hands a sizable pistol, the Bolter pistol; on the other hip, a whip hangs loosely, the Aggoniser, and his hand seems to hover near it always.
Personality: Vomicor is an outgoing sort of guy, usually optimistic and always ready to bring pain, filth, and illness wherever he goes. He nearly constantly bears a smile under his helm, even in the face of death - whether from his relatively good nature or his utter insanity in the face of his existence, nobody is sure. His demeanor and actions suggest the latter, however; in either the face of death or victory, his mindset is the same: Strike Hard, Strike Fast, and let all who would deny Nurgle know the power of his plagues.
History: Vomicor, like so many other children on the Imperial worlds, knew war through all of his life. Even as a young one it was clear he'd never be right - perhaps never 'dangerous', but never right. He was always a very quiet, reserved child, and he kept mostly to himself - that is, until the Chaos Marines came. His entire colony was taken captive, and the children, such as him, were seeded as marines in a long and brutal process not even he remembers. His first memory after the followers of what is now his god dragged him from the basement, laughing and rotting before his eyes, is to open his eyes one morning, clad in this new armor, years later, with one goal and one goal only in mind: to further Nurgle, to bring disease, and to do as he was told. The seeding worked exceedingly well on him, and not only his body but his mind was changed into a weapon of the same Chaos god who had stolen his life from him. Over the course of his long life, in service of Nurgle, he has slaughtered many Imperium soldiers, and has earned the Great Unclean One's favor, evident in the filth and nurglings which shadow him.
Fireblight
Name: Zarqah Srepor
God: Tzeentch
Class: Aspiring Sorcerer
Basic Load out: Bolter, Force weapon (sword)
Psychic Powers: Bolt of Change, Doombolt, Wind of Chaos
Physical Description: Zarqah is a mid-height and sinewy Chaos Space Marine female whose almost grey skin has been carved multiple scars and wounds during battles. As a result of mutation her body is covered with spikes in places giving her advantage and protection also when not wearing her armor. Her dark brown hair is tied up to a chignon and is most of the time covered with her helmet. Her armor is dark blue, the color ranging from ocean-green to sky-blue depending on the lightning, and covers her legs, shoulders, chest and stomach. On the right shoulder’s armor there is also a symbol of Tzeentch as a sign to her god. The rest of the body is upholstered with bandages made of steel firm fiber. Hanging from her loins and arms there are parts of robe which chord with the golden orange tribal-like markings on her armor. On her back Zarqah has a jump pack that helps her to get quickly from one place to another through air. As a sorcerer she carries her sword always with her and is never willing to let it away from her hands.
Personality: Zarqah is somewhat quiet and withdrawn but under the surface it boils; her twisted mind is constantly scheming and never leaves her alone. In action she is purposeful and calm and won’t let any kind of distraction ruin her performance. When fighting, she quickly learns the opponent’s tactics and is also able to posses and apply them for her own ways. That’s why her style is never pure but a mixture of numerous different tactics and styles. Even though Zarqah is comparatively skilled and crafty fighter she often indulges to her greatest weakness, arrogance; overrating her own skills incurs her defeat. If she was free to decide she would solve problems by talking and with reason but when being pissed off enough she won’t hesitate to use force.
History: Zarqah was a Librarian before falling to Chaos. She had always known that she knew more than the others and her willing to know led her closer and closer to Tzeentch. Secretly she hoped she could increase her powers no matter what it cost. Tzeentch had heard her thoughts and offered the possibility of an access to eternal knowledge and power beyond measure if she would do as he wanted for the rest of her life. Zarqah agreed and was granted with powers impossible to compare to her earlier psychic gifts. Little by little led and modified by Tzeentch she became more and more aware of the mighty powers of Chaos and turned her back on her former life for good.
