W40K: In Service to the Imperium: Episode 3 (OOC/OPEN)

[Legital]

IC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=227900

In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war....

Important! Please read!

Welcome back, or if you are new, welcome! This is the third installement to the 'Service to the Imperium' RP. Many of you who will be applying will have participated in the previous ones, so you will know the deal. However, there is a major change to this, as this one will be taking a different route in order to ensure more action, interaction, and more time to spin a story and proceed with it.

Previous ones focused on a company within a regiment. Will will not be doing that. Instead, players will apply as a single character, or, if you choose to be within a weapons crew, up to two characters. Please understand that. The story will be below, and you will soon understand why.

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Story and situation:

Epsilon Octarius, once a mighty and productive Imperial planet, now a world torn and scarred by war. It has been six years since the arrival of the Chaos fleet and warband, led by Chaos Lord Diables Krugen. And ever since then, the Imperium has slowly been loosing its grip on the planet. Poorly equipped PDF and Octarius Guard forces were no mach for the seasoned Chaos bands of the Damned, Chaos Space Marines, and monstrous Titans. The loyal defenders fell in droves against the marauding Archenemy forces. It was only a miracle that the Imperial forces managed to hold out within the capital, Epsilon Prime, against the Chaos forces until the arrival of Imperial reinforcements nearly a year later, thanks to the proximity of Imperial forces nearby for the Sabbat World Crusade.

Imperial titans and Guardsmen of all different cultures and specialty have been poured into this planet for reasons highly speculated. The planet is of no major production or manpower source, or of an important location which is critical to control. But a good Guardsmen does not question his orders. A good Guardsmen obeys. And if not, the Commissars step in. So with little verbal question within the chain of command, the world has become a literal bloodbath due to both sides committing such large numbers of soldiers and vehicles.

Now, five years later, nothing has changed much. The Imperial forces are now under the banner of a new supreme commander, Lord-General Prectis; a young, rash, and inexperienced man who rose through power by riches and contacts. But these are not his worse traits. No, his worse trait is that he is desperate. Desperate to end the war and claim the victory in his name. Three weeks after he gains power, he makes his first commanding order.
Gathering three fourth of all Imperial regiments, nearly forty, and other military forces, he orders an attack on the PDF planetary fortress, which had been claimed as the Chaos Lord, Diables Krugen, headquarters.
Within several more weeks, all sorts of regiments are mobilized and one morning, they commit hundreds of thousands, if not perhaps millions, of men to a planet wide assault of the network of Chaos controlled PDF and Guard defenses.

The attack fails within hours, and the casualties are beyond any one can imagine. The entire assaulting Guard force routes back towards the capital city, the archenemy pursuing.

At midnight Terran time, Epsilon Prime, the sole major Imperial held territory, has all but fallen.

You are a survivor, and it is up to you to follow whoever rises to the occasion to lead you to safety on the world consumed by death and Chaos, or to follow them into the deepest depths of hell to complete a mission in which is impossible, but may yet change the very course of the war.

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One thing I wish to say is that I will have a second major character that is absolutely needed for the plot. He will be revealed very shortly after the IC is posted.


Rules:

There is not much to say. Below in the 'application explained', you will see what does and does not fly. Most of you should already be familiar with my standards. But a few general things:

1. No godmodding.
2. My word is law. Whatever I say is final, and my whim can change at any moment.
3. Now, I will accept weapons teams of two, for Heavy Bolters, Launchers, Flamers, Lascannons, etc. No more than two characters.
4. You can only be a Guardsmen, however, if you so very wish, I will allow Arbites as well if you can show me a well put together application similar to mine. I will accept very few Arbites.
5. Would you look at that? That's pretty much it. And this is also a rule. Obey it.

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Application and application explained:

Character:

Code: Select all

[b][u]Character:[/u][/b]
[b]Name:[/b] Self-explanatory
[b]Age:[/b] Self-explanatory
[b]Gender: [/b]Self-explanatory
[b]Appearance (Image preferred):[/b] Height, weight, looks, etc.
[b]Biography:[/b] A short bio will suffice. No less than a paragraph, though. To make it easier, describe how they retreated and what happened to them. Keep in mind pretty much everyone in your regiment is more than likely dead.
[b]Regiment in which served:[/b] What regiment does this character belong in? Eg: Cadian 101st.
[b]Rank:[/b] No higher than a First Lieutenant.
[b]Occupation:[/b] Heavy weapons, rifleman, medic, etc.
[b]Equipment and uniform: [/b]Weapons and gear on person. Be reasonable.
[b]Wounds:[/b] Optional, but keep in mind Chaos forces just routed nearly every Imperial force in one battle.

My application:

Character:
Name: Gregory (Gregor for short) Dietrich Gustav
Age: 42
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): Gregory is a man who has seen better years. As a young homeless child, he worked around the docks of his home city, working various jobs. As he moved into an adolescent, his shoulders began to broaden out greatly and he became a tall young lad, eventually gaining the height of six feet, two inches. As his early life, and eventual Guard life, was focused on hard labor, he is a strong muscled man. Life around the docks raised him as a stern man, and his face is often set in a stern and resolute, almost scowling, posture. At one point he suffered a wound to his eye, in which he now wears an eyepatch.Similar to this, with slightly more gaunt cheeks and a full trimmed beard.
Biography: Gregor was initiated into the Schola Prognemium after the age of fifteen, when he became an orphan. Before that, he lived in his home town of Vlasdovsk on Higara, serving as a young dock worker. His early life saw him working honest jobs, and some under the table jobs. He knew the underbelly by name when he was just fourteen, but thankfully, the Schola picked him up off the streets to turn him into a providable member of the Imperium.
Within the Schola, he turned out to fit the boots of a Commissar very well. He was stern, gruff, and a man of his word. He had no problem keeping men in line. He was, though, able to lighten up ever so slightly on leave. But just slightly.
He was attached to the Higaran 93rd Foot, and saw himself shipped out into combat for the first time at the age of twenty-one. His life soon began to revolve around the Guard, and he, like many others, became a seasoned and gruff hardass, yet still a fair man. In the line of duty, he had received more than his fair share in wounds.

Eventually, he found himself and his regiment on Epsilon Octarious, a real hell-hole. He served on the front from nearly the beginning of the war, and had seen his regiment diminish from full strength, to little more than two hundred men. On that fateful day of the full Imperial route, even he was unable to stop the men retreating, and he too ran as Chaos Titans descended upon them. No Commissar could hold men in line from such shear death.

As night fell upon the city, he was alone amongst the dead and the damned. He is currently looking for survivors to rally together.

Regiment in which served: Higaran 93rd Foot.
Rank: Commissar.
Occupation: Commissar.
Equipment and uniform: Commissar uniform, chainsword, bolt pistol with plentiful ammunition, knife, near empty water canteen, and several other small pieces to his kit.
Wounds: He has been shot over his career at least twelve times in various places in various states of damage, ranging from scrapes to wounds that have put him out of action for a while. The two most prominent wounds on him is his missing right eye, which is eyepatched over, and shrapnel which he has long ago wounded his knee, giving him a slight limp.

Feel free to ask any questions!

[Legital]

-Accepted-

Character:
Name: Daxtrimadis Esculptor (short Dax)
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): Like this, but with shorter hair.
Biography:
Born on the frigid hive world of Tethia, Dax was a typical manufactory worker until a conscription call among the houses of his home hive resulted in him and millions of others being selected in a lottery for the latest tithe of regiments. The 898th was formed and warred its way throughout the world's subsector as the Sabbat Worlds Crusade ground awfully onwards. Dax ascended to join the Grenadiers, the select elite of his regiment, who receive better equipment and lead charges. When the "liberation" of Epsilon Octarius began, his regiment lead a charge on a Chaotic fortress outside Epsilon Prime. Though they managed to thrash their way in with heavy losses during Lord General Prectis' grand attack, the Chaos counteroffensive sent them sprawling back. Dax was among only a few survivors of the Tethians, who are now sprawled across the plains between Epsilon Prime and the fortress. He is slogging back to the capitol alone, killing any Chaos soldier he comes across without mercy.

Regiment in which served: Tethian 898th
Rank: Sergeant
Occupation: Rifleman/Grenadier
Equipment and uniform: Enhanced lasgun (more power, but slower to fire), combat knife, autopistol, a few frag grenades and a couple incendiary grenades. His uniform is mostly dark brown, black and grey, and is for the most part typical Guard attire, but with a reinforced chestplate. His helmet has a built-in, self-powered gas mask.
Wounds: Grazed along his right side by a stray lasround. He is not seriously injured, but the pain is the worst issue.

Character: First Lieutenant Sable Von Grafford of the 21st Dravidian Grenadiers
Name: Sable Von Grafford
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): 5' 9" 186 lbs Blue eyes, Brown hair, barrel chested and muscular. Even through the scars a battle it is easy to see the face of a fair and noble man.
Biography: The planet of Dravidia is the home of a major Schola Progenium facility, as all noble born men of he was sent to the Progenium at the age of 14 to receive a professional education. By the age of 16 he was recruited into the corps of cadets of the Dravidian Grenadiers, who are for all intents and purposes Imperial Storm troopers. The only thing that separates the two organizations is that Grenadiers are not orphans, and Grenadiers also are trained to conduct lavish ceremonies and are experts and close order drill. Grafford received a commission as an officer at the age of 20 and was assigned to the newly refounded 21st Dravidian Grenadiers. His first tour of duty was to the planet of Epsilon Octarious to reinforce the Imperial forces already in the midst of retaking the planet. For three years the Campaign went on as easy as to be expected in a war with the arch enemy with the 21st winning much glory, especially after the regiment turned back the tide of several small Chaos Marine war bands. The losses however began to take their toll on the regiment. Once 3,500 proud troops of the 21st drove Chaos forces from mighty battlements only to be ordered to pull back at when the Imperial line couldn't hold. By the time Lord-General Prectis took command the Regiment consisted of a mere 500 men folded into a single battalion, when the Order came down from Imperial High Command that a major offensive was too occur the Dravidian positions resounded with singing and cheers as the men eager to break the stalemate awaited their orders. When they came the cheers turned to cries of disbelief. The Lord-General did not want them to break into strike teams and destroy key enemy positions as was their purpose of being, he instead demanded that they form parade ranks (something that had been done in the history of the Grenadiers but never in a siege environment) at the center of the battle line and turn back any counter attack. Though the command staff of the 21st was in a state of disbelief they saw that the order was carried out.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Epsilon Octarius, The Grand Offensive

Grafford's men were formed at close order facing him, with the Guidon of his platoon waving in the wind. Behind his platoon was the regimental staff and the Regimental standard, he had to execute this perfectly. He took a breath through the nose when his platoon sergeant said and said "Platoon, Aaa-Tenn-Huut!" walking to face Grafford the platoon Sergeant saluted and said " Sir Echo Company third platoon all present or accounted for."

Grafford replied "Very well, Post!" With that the Platoon Sergeant walked to the right flank of the platoon. Grafford then took his place to the right and front of his platoon sergeant and drew his sword. He raised it and pointed it forward his platoon Sergeant then saying "Platoon! Forr-Warrd! Marrch!". The platoon took a giant step forward and began to march as the Platoon Sergeant began to call cadence " Left, Right, Left, Right, Leeeffft, Hada, Lo, Right" The Quick March of the Grenadiers began to echo through the Cacophony of weapons fire from the location of the regimental staff.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsW4FoRzhQw

(Adjust Lyrics accordingly)

As Grafford marched with is men he saw scores of Guardsmen from the first wave torn to pieces by the heavy guns of the Arch-enemy. Imperial and Traitor titans clashed and shells filled the air, the Imperial Line surged forward and then stopped. In what seemed like minutes wave after wave of reserves were sent to die against the traitors emplacements. Grafford thought to himself about the Lord-General 'Damn him! By the Emperor Damn that man!' Then it happened the vox net will filled with chaos as the Imperial line broke and the men began to retreat. Commissars found their men unresponsive to both threats of executions and the delivery of said threats, the enemy began a full counter attack the the 21st was right in its way.

Grafford looked to his left as the first las bolts tore into his men, some dropped. Guardsmen of other regiments ran past them as they marched forward. They continued marching until they reached the Regimental rally line. Grafford held up his sword and the Platoon sergeant yelled "Platoon! Halt!... Make ready!" The men echoed it on "Make Ready! cried 40 voices" Grafford then took over "First Rank! Kneel! Aim!, Second Rank! Third Rank! Aim!" the incoming las fire was very accurate and was starting to make an impact on the status of his platoon, the enemy closed distance as the fired and howled. Grafford then Yelled "Fire!" The Hot Shot Las guns tore the enemies in front of them to shreds sometimes with one beam passing through two or three of the traitors. He repeated the order again and again hoping any moment the broke troops that had past them would rally and get on line to stop the counter attack.

The enemy kept coming, "Fire by rank!" Grafford issued the command and perfectly timed las shots crashed into the enemy forces ensuring that no matter what they were always taking fire from the Grenadiers, but it still was not enough there were too many cultists surging forward. "Affix bayonets and fire at will!" The order was followed and the men of the 21st fired until their weapons were in danger of over heating. Grafford then yelled "Charge!" swinging his power sword forward, he and his men crashed into the enemy ranks.

During the Initial contact he fired and killed two cultists and bent over to flip one over his back that swung high with a club. He punched with the guard of his sword and stabbed an enemy through the gut. With every swipe every slash he sent more of the Emperor's enemies to the grave. Despite all he killed however they kept coming, his polished technique and stance gave way to violent desperation. Hacking and slashing, knees, head butts, brawling at best. His body screamed of exhaustion but the enemy would not stop. He looked around for the briefest of moments to see how his men fared. They were losing, the weight of the enemies numbers was over taking them. He pulled one of the cultists by the hair and slit his throat discarding the body, only to see his dead platoon sergeant at his feet He Cried " In the Emperor's name stand your ground, drive them Bacc..." He received a blow to the back of his head and fell to his knees and then the ground. He was so tired, he looked up and saw his men being cut down. He faded into darkness, he was so so tired.

Regiment in which served: The 21st Dravidian Grenadiers
Rank: 1st LT
Occupation: Platoon Leader
Equipment and uniform: Carapace armor, re breather, hotshot lasgun and hotshot las pistol, Power sword, knife in his boot. An Aquila he was given by a sister of the order of the bloody rose.
Wounds: Auto-Gun shot to the right arm, blunt force injury to the back of the head, a scar across his face over his eye from a cultist bayonet. A busted lip.

Character:
Name: Roger Carn
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120702032948/warhammer40k/images/5/51/CatachanJungleFighters1.jpg
Biography: Born and raised on Catachan, Roger grew into a hardy and stealthy Jungle fighter as Marbo had been his role model since he was little. A solid marksman, he was made a sniper in the Catachan 23rd Regiment which eventually was deployed on Epsilon Octarius. Having grown close too many of his fellow Catachans, Roger became bitter towards Lord-General Prectis after the launch of the suicidal assault which wiped out at least everyone else in his company. If he can make it off this planet alive, Roger swears he'll take the head of Lord-General Prectis himself, if the bastard isn't dead already.
Regiment in which served: Catachan 23rd
Rank: Sergeant First Class
Occupation: Marksman
Equipment and uniform: Sniper rifle, Camo Cloak, 2 snare mines, 3 frag grenades, Catachan blade
Wounds: Has some shrapnel stuck in his right leg from an explosion that took out his company which he had been (un)fortunately at the rear of trying to call in for reinforcements for a company he had witnessed caught in a lethal struggle against a massive swarm of cultists.

Character:
Name: Matthew Shelton
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: face, 6'4, lean and muscular build, dark brown hair, dark green eyes, tan skin
Biography: Trooper Shelton was born in a small village on the feudal planet Gudrun to a veteran of the Imperial Guard and a civilain woman. Growing up, he had many friends with which he spent many of his days (when not working) reenacting some of the Imperial Guard's great battles, not knowing the pure hell they would endure as adults, serving the God Emperor of Mankind. One of Matthew's many friends was a young blonde girl named Taylor, the oldest daughter of the wealthiest family in the village. It was over the course of their many years together that the simple farm boy and wealthy young lady fell in love. They spent several years courting like good little children when around their peers or parents and sneaking away for a quick kiss when alone and given time to themselves. By adulthood, their relationship had become serious and committed and Matthew was comtemplating a marriage proposal when he was conscripted into the Imperial Guard. Though he wore his uniform proudly and kept his head held high throughout the village's celebratory send off for him and his fellow conscripts, he was secretly terrified and in dispair at the thought of likely dying on some far away battlefield. Over the course of the fighting on Epsilon Prime, his friends and nearly his entire Regiment were killed. He is the sole survivor of his unit and now, his friends dead, heart shattered and faith (however little he originally had) in the Emperor destroyed, all he wants is to make it home to the rolling green hills of Gudrun alive, back to his love and his home.
Regiment in which served: Gudrun 13'th Regiment
Rank: Trooper
Occupation: Rifleman
Equipment: black painted M-36 Kantrael pattern Lasgun with bayonet, Ceres pattern Bolt Pistol (taken from the corpse of a Commissar)
Uniform: Grey fatigues under black Flak Armor and Helmet with red stripes down the legs and arms and a red cross on the breastplate (armor of the Gudrun 13'th Regiment)
Wounds: Light injury to the left arm from a glancing shot from a las weapon, covered up by a cool looking bandage.


Just a note, I don't play Warhammer 40K and know fairly little about the universe but I AM learning about the storyline and setting as best I can and would like to take part in this roleplay. Please feel free to correct me if I screw something up.

EDIT: by the way, here's an MSPaint model of my character (his bandage is on the wrong side intentionally so that it's visible. ICly it's on the LEFT arm)
(Image)

Redid it!

Character:
Name: Maximus "Fighting Max" Fightmaster
Age: 30
Gender: Ye- wait. Male, then.
Appearance (Image preferred): 6'5", 200Ib, not particularly pretty
Biography: Fightmaster is either lucky because he's still alive, or unlucky because he's on the wrong planet. Either way, he's stuck there unlike his comrades who are probably nailed to a wall somewhere. After the entire 3rd Vytorian Regiment was destroyed when overrun, Fightmaster's platoon was captured, possibly as sacrifices to which whatever god the captors liked more. Fortunately, Fighting Max escaped before they could do the same to him, using an overcharged plasma rifle from one of his dead buddies. Fightmaster retreated to the rendezvous, the sole survivor for all he knew.
Regiment in which served: Vytorian 3rd
Rank: corporal
Occupation: guardsman
Equipment and uniform: lasgun and flak armor
Wounds: a broken nail. Also, missing left middle finger(as if he needed that one).

I believe, Legital, that I've already explained why I'm posting on this account through TG. If that didn't make it clear, meh.
APP
Character:
Name: Veronica Sage
Age: 38
Gender: Female
Appearance (Image preferred):6'0 and with a lightweight build, at first glance she simply seems to be a tall pushover, someone that would easily be pushed over in a stiff breeze. Upon closer inspection, scars running across her body at seemingly random, green eyes lethally perceptive and raven hair with the appearance of being cut by a crude instrument (her combat sickle), most stay well away. Major scars include the afore mentioned Secundus nulli on her right forearm, and another running from her left temple to her right ankle. Weight is roughly 145 or so pounds.
Biography:
Before Accatran]Born on a feral world called Thitus, she was a member of a small settlement of humans that were trying to spread the word of the emperor to the Squats and other abhumans living there. Naturally, they failed, and were overrun, axes and spears hacking at legs until each one slowly fell to the ground to be brutally murdered. Cut down to size. Stumbling, half blind, her seven year old body covered with more cuts than skin she tumbled madly through the undergrowth for almost two days. Eventually the abhumans threw their hands in the air, said something along the lines of 'let the wild Grox eat her' and went home. For the next nine years she spent her time making a small homestead out of a cave and slitting throats of any abhumans she found; following them home and killing them in their sleep. This carried on for so long she became something of a demon among the local abhuman population, called 'Frey'eetha'. Literally, 'Devil's Maiden'. Seeing as it had been nine years since any contact had been made, a void ship from Necromunda was dispatched to see if the human population had died or just been totally corrupted by a chaos power. Lo and behold, they found this ragged, wild eyed girl cutting up Squats in the middle of the night. From the report, she was killing her thirtieth, the other twenty nine already dead. They took her back to Necromunda and gave her a spot in a Hab-block, as well as an education. Until she was twenty one, that is. Then they issued an ultimatum; join the Imperial Guard, or we toss you into the Under-Hive. Confronted with this decision, she joined the 6th Necromundan heavy infantry as a rifle-woman, where she quickly gained a reputation for swearing and being almost oblivious to pain, carving Secundus nulli into her right forearm as part of a bet without blinking an eye. After serving in three campaigns, each about five years long, and being promoted to captain, they were deployed on the Forge World of Vyron. After the former Regiment head was killed in the blast, an anonymous vote promoted her to major and therefore the leader of the regiment.
During Accatran](Image)
After Accatran]Bowed, broken and despaired at the loss of her men and comrades, Veronica spent months in a depression-induced haze, her mind cloudy, her faith, always weak, non-existant. Over the course of several months of integration within her new Krieg regiment, she slowly faced facts and learnt how to 'fix' herself. Mainly by becoming a Leman Russ gunner. For a time, good was all and all was good. She'd train, ship in to another world, train some more, kill some heretics, and get back to training. That was what she saw being shipped into this hellhole as.
Just some more training.
Welcome to Hell]The 24th Armored Regiment was pulled in to defend the city from the Chaos forces, Veronica distinguished herself with no less than thirty six vehicle kills on enemy vehicles, including not one, but two Land Raiders. For a while, to her at least, it just seemed like another practice session.
But nothing lasts. She and her friends were on the forefront of the offensive, braving enemy fire to clear vast swathes of land for the infantry. This is where 'reality' hit her once more. In short succession several bolter rounds had pierced the tank's armor, killing the driver, commander and radio operator in short succession. Left with little choice she bailed out with nothing but her sickle and a laspistol.
For days she stumbled among the aftermaths of the battle before returning to the capital to help reinforce the defenses. Desperate for any help they could get, the remaining guardsmen handed her a rifle and told her to shoot that way.
Regiment in which served: 24th Krieg Armored
Rank: Lt.
Occupation: Rifleman/LR gunner
Equipment and uniform: Sickle, frag, lascarbine, tanker helmet, laspistol, tanker flak jacket. The helmet is similar to WW1 tanker helmets, and the flak jacket is grey, covering her entire torso and her upper arms.
Wounds: Optional, but keep in mind Chaos forces just routed nearly every Imperial force in one battle.

Character:
Name: T-H/ING 1 and T-H/NG 2 (Trooper-Heavy Weapon/Noncommissioned Guardsman)
Age: 21 and 21
Gender: T-H/NG 1 is male, T-H/NG 2 is presumably male as well (2 never speaks, and 1 has never referred to his partner's gender, but it is presumed that 2 is male due to body shape and some of 1's comments). 1 and 2 have their numbers doodled on the left side of their helmets. 1 has claimed that they have odd eye colors.
Appearance (Image preferred): The dynamic duo at work. 1 is 7'3 while 2 is 6'5, and no one has seen their faces, but they are presumably quite pale due to a lack of exposure to sunlight.
Biography: Born on Wahnsinn, a Death World in all but name (an error in the paperwork has it classified as a Space Marine Chapter Homeworld, despite no Space Marine having ever even been in the same system, yet alone heard of the place). Due to an "quirk" in the vats that grew them, many unintended changes occurred in their birthing group, such as their unusually large height. As the changes weren't bad enough for their group to be scrapped, they were put into training as combat engineers, where their height keep them from being put in the tunnelers. Wahnsinn's eccentric leadership insisted in a good portion of each regiment being capable of performing roles other then the ones they're meant for, leading to odd occurrences like tank crews being certified snipers, and riflemen capable of piloting aircraft. As a result, 1 and 2 were trained in the use of a rocket launcher, despite being demolition engineers.
During the battle, their regiment was routed by Chaos forces which included Astartes. While the duo were taking aim at a tank from a concealed position, a stealthy cultist ambushed their squad and quietly took them out one by one, then started to creep up on them to finish the job, at which point they fired. They were blissfully unaware of all this until they turned around to find their squad dead and a burning corpse lodged in the wall directly behind them.
Regiment in which served: Wahnsinn 7th Combat Engineers
Rank: Both Lance Corporals.
Occupation: Heavy weapons/combat engineers
Equipment and uniform: 1 has a rocket launcher (2 is the loader). 1 has a lascarbine (shorter range, less power, faster fire rate), and collapsable shovel while 2 has a lasgun and pickaxe. Both carry some ammo for the rocket launcher and a few demolition charges, and wear flak armor and gasmasks.
Wounds: 2 bit his/her tongue bad enough that it's swollen and (seemingly) preventing speech. Both were blinded by an explosion and have since recovered, though 1 still occasionally sees spots.

Character:
Name: Thomas Steele
Age: 28
Gender: M
Appearance (Image preferred): 6'5", 250 lbs, gray eyes, blonde, scar running down left arm
Biography: Thomas was born to a family in the 3rd artillery company, and grew up wanting to be a guardsman fighting the forces of chaos. As soon as he could, he applied to the gaurd, proving himself having a good eye spotting for artillery batteries and defending artillery positions. As of late, he has been blown out of his defensive position with mild head trauma, but is ready to fight.
Regiment in which served: 3rd Prandium Artillery
Rank: Lance Corporal
Occupation: Anti-tank/fire support (artillery battery)
Equipment and uniform: Meltagun and laspistol, food and water
Wounds: Moderate Concussion
Will artillery be available?

I am admittedly new to WH40k, but thought I'd give it a go. So... here goes:

Character:
Name: James Ewell Brown "Jeb" Caudell
Age: 25
Gender: Negative, I am a meat Popsicle Male
Appearance: A little under six foot, fairly average of height and weight for Humans hailing from the Segmentum Tempestus region of the galaxy (or at least planet Dixie). Light brown hair and a dark five o'clock shadow. Large hands, broad shoulders.
An idea of Dixie Guardsmen.
Biography: Born on Dixie in the Amerikon Sector, a world in the galactic south that is the Segmentum Tempestus region. Raised proud and strong, and eagerly answered the call when an Imperial Guard regiment was levied. The 47th Dixie Infantry soon saw small actions against feral orcs, minor heretics, and other rabble opponents on a number of worlds. Dubbed the "Castalia Invincibles", their commanders had high hopes. Jeb Caudell climbed up the ranks during these small battles, but the unusual light losses made significant advancement difficult. By the time of their deployment to Epsilon Octarius he was still only a corporal but being groomed for a sergeants slot.
Called to Octarius to reinforce on-planet Imperial forces, the 47th's colonel anticipated only greater glory for the "Em'pur" (as locally pronounced) and the regiment. But the 47th had not yet fought the forces of Chaos in a massive engagement such as this before. And so when the battle came to pieces, it paid the price. A series of mishaps and bad luck decapitated the 47th's leadership at the height of the assault on the Chaos Lord's headquarters. The remaining officers, encouraged by their Commissars, respond the only way they saw appropriate: a head on charge. Hoping to crush the foe with sheer elan, the regiment was instead all but annihilated as their fellow Guardsmen on the flanks collapsed and withdrew, with a 99% casualty rating considered optimistic.
Corporal Jeb Caudell, partly through sheer luck and partly through skill, was one of the few to extricate themselves from the death of the Castalia Invincibles. Ordered with his squad to check the status of their flanks, when the rout began he found himself drawn into by another regiment's officer. As the forces of Chaos hounded their withdrawal, Jeb found himself the sole survivor of his contingent.
Regiment in which served: 47th Dixie Infantry, the "Castalia Invincibles"
Rank: Corporal
Occupation: Rifleman
Equipment and uniform: Grey uniform and flak armor, with a stylized Maltese cross of Dixie's regiments on the right shoulder and the Imperial Guard crest on the left. Carries a standard issue Kantrael pattern M36 Lasrifle, a bayonet and stub revolver for close quarters, and a pump-action shotgun (popular on Dixie) slung on his back for "close encounters". He depleted his own grenades and most of his lasgun batteries in the fight, but managed to scavenge a few more batteries, some frag grenades, and a single grenade-style melta bomb from a dead Guardsman of another regiment. Aside from his canteen, he managed to lose just about any other equipment he had during the confusion of the rout.
Wounds: He suffered a concussion from a blast that cracked his own helmet, and so his head is bandaged under his new (borrowed) helmet. In addition Jeb applied a bandage to his upper left arm to halt the bleeding from gash caused by a fragmentation explosive.

Name: Ozzall 'Oddball' Corrick
Age: 33
Gender: Male, last he checked. Can never be sure when Slaanesh is afoot,
Appearance (Image preferred): Stands 6'2, weights 240 lb. His hair is brown and shaved down to a crew cut, with black eyebrows and brown eyes. His face is heavily scarred from years in combat- although it's not surprising given that he's Cadian. As for now, he's currently keeping his helmet sealed tightly on, for good reason.
Biography: They say the Seventh Cadian Regiment is lucky. Every member of the seventh will promptly call this bullshit and admit that they seemingly have the worst luck possible. The miracle about them is how the hell anyone of the seventh survives the good stomping they typically receive. As for Ozzall and his squad? They don't have a damned clue besides luck, skill, and divine intervention by the Emperor. As usual, their forces were overwhelmed by endless hordes of unspeakable abominations. At first, the Chaos Cultists were manageable, hell, Ozzall and his squad likely killed fifty of them, possibly even hundreds. It's impossible to differentiate your lasers from all the others. All Ozzall knew was that he and the nine men under his command sprayed lasers across the battlefield, and with the hordes of Cultist militiamen that assaulted endlessly, at least one out of every three shots fired killed something.
Although in reality, the kills didn't matter. What mattered was that their defensive position where they had dug in was getting hammered endlessly by those bastard cultist militia, and it only got worse from there. When the cultists gained enough ground, the Chaos Space Marines arrived.
Neither Ozzall gave a single shit what Chapter or class, or whatever the bloody hell those post-human monsters were, all he knew was there was Chaos Space Marines, and they hit hard. And fast. He'd fought basic troopers before on Cadia- and they were bad enough. But these, these flying fiends? The horrible monstrosities came screeching down on their position like birds of prey. The only defense against them was to lay down suppressive fire on them, but they could fly. Those horrible creatures killed two of his squad, and Ozzall and his men never even landed a shot on those creatures. They were also gone just as fast as they appeared. Once the things he later figured out were called 'Raptors' destroyed the heavy guns and vehicles, the basic, yet still horrible, Chaos Space Marines came pouring in on their position and slaughtered them. Entire platoons got cut apart by chainswords- their lasguns didn't even dent their Daemonic armor. It was only the Storm Troopers who could hope to make a stand, and by the Emperor they did. While the Seventh may have been shattered, they gave just as good as they got. Halfway through the frenzy the corpses of Cadian Guardsmen littered the battlefield- but so did the Chaos Space Marines. While their dead was not as numerous as the Imperial Guard's, the combined fire of the Storm Troopers ensured that there could be a successful retreat. Ozzall and his squad had at least five confirmed Chaos Space Marine kills before the retreat. Of course, they paid dearly. The Sergeant's squad was burned just as bad as his face. Out of ten men including Ozzall, only three survived. The rest were either torn apart by Raptors, or gunned down by the constant charge mounted by the Chaos Space Marine, backed by Cultist support. However, no matter how badly torn up they were, and how many died, the Seventh survived. The retreat may have not been as glorious as the last stand of the Ultramarines on Macragge, but they took care of their own, and ensured that their fellow Guardsmen could retreat. While Ozzall is personally distressed at how much was lost in the battle, he and his two surviving subordinates will be hailed as heroes along with the rest of the men and women who made Chaos pay for their victory in blood.

However, as impressive as their bloody fight was, the fact remains that the battle isn't over yet. Their communications destroyed and possibly jammed, along with the fact that they're running low on ammo and cut off entirely from the rest of the Guardsmen, the odds are stacked against their favor. Already carrying the identification from the seven men he's lost, he'll do everything in his power to ensure that he keeps the two others alive long enough to see them off. Not to mention the fact that he'd like to survive this catastrophic event himself. While some may join the Imperial Guard to become a Martyr, Ozzall joined the Guard to carry on the Cadian tradition of killing the legions of Chaos and becoming a hero. Not a posthumously one.

Regiment in which served: 7th Cadian
Rank: Sergeant
Occupation: Kasrkin/ Storm Trooper Grenadier
Equipment and uniform: Armor. Armor is intact, although there has been a great deal of chipping and large dents from shrapnel, it's still holding up. As for weapons? Respirator helmet, Hotshot Lasgun, Backpack Powerpack, Hellpistol, Combat Knife (2 foot blade, serrated), and Emperor-help-ye if you forget your Primer. Ozzall certainly hasn't, although it's likely muddy, bloody, and burnt.
Wounds: Ozzall took off his helmet so he could spit in the face of a dying Chaos Space Marine. A corrupted plasma gun shot promptly wizzed by his head, and while not directly hitting him- it burned the left side of his face off, including his ear. Safe to say that this not only hurt a lot, it pissed him off. It pissed the squad under his command off. The squad promptly taught the Chaos Space Marine a lesson of Cadian vengeance, with Ozzall getting the honor of finishing the monster off with a shot to the head.
This children, is why you keep your helmet on. As of now, his face is currently wrapped in bandages right up to the eyes, with a healing salve coated on the wounds to keep the pain down.

Character:
Name: Ernst von Kluge

Age: 29

Gender: Male.

Appearance: Ernst stands six feet and two inches tall, is of relatively unremarkable build (for a Grenadier), weighing around 175 pounds, and is pale in complexion. Although rarely if even seen owing to the fact that he appears to have his helmet on permanently, he has a thin cropping of dark brown hair, and a pair of largish eyes with bluish pupils along with thick brows. A shallow but highly visible scar runs the length of his left cheek, resulting from his sustaining a slash by a traitorous guardsman during the earlier Siege of Vraks.

Biography: Ernst is the typical Krieg-born male; raised from cradle to become a part of the planet's annual tithes of masses of Imperial Guardsmen, and is, by native standards, old, for few among the Death Korps live through their early twenties. Drafted into the ill-fated 50th Infantry Regiment at the age of 16, he followed the regiment into the fray on Vraks in 827.M41, as part of the 88th Siege Army. The regiment was completely destroyed over the course of fierce combat with Chaos forces and Ernst was one out of only a dozen or so survivors. In the three following years he would be rotated through one unit after another until 830.M41. By then he had been given the honor of serving in the Death Korps' elite Grenadiers, notorious for its eight-in-ten fatality rates, and had, as miraculously as before, lived to see the conclusion of the combat.

Following the Siege of Vraks, his unit was disbanded and its remnants absorbed into newly raised regiments, like the 174th Siege Regiment. Recognizing his extensive combat experience, he was promoted to Sergeant upon his transfer to the 174th and given the position of Watchmaster. Its commander, as was typical of the Death Korps, volunteered his unit to serve in what was already being regarded as one of the toughest warzones, that was Epsilon Octarius. Arriving in time to take part in Lord-General Prectis' ill-conceived offensive, the 174th was at the forefront of almost every offensive operation, whittling down its numbers. In fact, as was typical of the Death Korps, the 174th fought resolutely (if not stubbornly and with little appreciation of the 'big picture') against the overwhelming Chaos counterattack even as its fellow regiments were pulling back. It was only with the intervention of a Commissar that the 174th began to fall back, and even then it continued to act as a rearguard, sustaining crippling casualties.

Regiment: Death Korps of Krieg 174th Siege Regiment

Rank: Lieutenant

Occupation: Grenadier, Platoon Commander

Equipment and uniform:

• Armament: 1x Type XIV Heavy Lasgun, 1x Bayonet, 5x no. 38 Frag Grenade, 2x Krak Grenade
• Uniform: Death Korps Issue Grenadier Uniform (Mark IX helmet, skull facemask, greatcoat, shoulder guards, chest plate, trousers, shin and knee guards, boots)
• Miscellaneous: Red Sash, Refractor Field Generator, Type V Respirator Unit, Leather Belt and Webbing, Leather Backpack, Entrenching Tool

Wounds:

I'd add that he was of the rank of Sergeant and held the position of Watchmaster before the battle but was then field promoted to the rank of Lieutenant and the position of Platoon Commander following the wiping out of a substantial portion of his company including most of its company command squad. In accordance with Departmento Munitorum requirements that officers be visibly distinguishable from the rank and file, a red sash and refractor field generator (in the form of a large, dull, metallic necklace), both of which are commonly issued to officers, had been passed on to him at the time of his field promotion. Carapace armor is also integrated into the Grenadier uniform and can be found on the helmet and chest plate.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

Character:
Name: Maximus "Fighting Max" Fightmaster
Age: 30
Gender: male
Appearance (Image preferred): 6'5", 200Ib, not particularly pretty
Biography: Fightmaster is either lucky because he's still alive, or unlucky because he's stuck with Buddy. Either way, at least he had company, because being nailed to a wall sure sucked. After the entire 3rd Vytorian Regiment was destroyed when overrun, Fightmaster was pinned to a wall with other survivors as sacrifices to which whatever god. Fortunately, Fighting Max broke free using sheer strength("Don't tell me yanking your palms straight from the nails ain't painful!") and rescued three other guardsmen before fleeing. On the run back to rendezvous, two of those men were killed, leaving Fightmaster and Buddy the sole survivors for all they knew.
Regiment in which served: Vytorian 3rd regiment
Rank: Sergeant
Occupation: special weapons, former squad leader
Equipment and uniform: flamer(half-full)
Wounds: just a few broken nails. And nail wounds in his hands

Character:
Name: Rickly "Buddy" Katchoo
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): 5', 140, missing a tooth under that beard
Biography: After the entire 3rd Vytorian Regiment was destroyed when overrun, Buddywas pinned to a wall with other survivors as sacrifices to which whatever god. Fortunately, Fighting Max broke free using sheer strength and pulled Buddy off("Don't tell me getting your palms yanked straight from the nails ain't painful!") with two other guardsmen before fleeing. On the run back to rendezvous, two of those men were killed, leaving Fightmaster and Buddy the sole survivors for all they knew.
Regiment in which served: Vytorian 3rd
Rank: corporal
Occupation: special weapons
Equipment and uniform: laspistol
Wounds: lost an eye, nail wounds in the hands

BTW, wanna join my tanker RP?

[Legital]

Character:
Name: Maximus "Fighting Max" Fightmaster
Age: 30
Gender: male
Appearance (Image preferred): 6'5", 200Ib, not particularly pretty
Biography: Fightmaster is either lucky because he's still alive, or unlucky because he's stuck with Buddy. Either way, at least he had company, because being nailed to a wall sure sucked. After the entire 3rd Vytorian Regiment was destroyed when overrun, Fightmaster was pinned to a wall with other survivors as sacrifices to which whatever god. Fortunately, Fighting Max broke free using sheer strength("Don't tell me yanking your palms straight from the nails ain't painful!") and rescued three other guardsmen before fleeing. On the run back to rendezvous, two of those men were killed, leaving Fightmaster and Buddy the sole survivors for all they knew.
Regiment in which served: Vytorian 3rd regiment
Rank: Sergeant
Occupation: special weapons, former squad leader
Equipment and uniform: flamer(half-full)
Wounds: just a few broken nails. And nail wounds in his hands

Character:
Name: Rickly "Buddy" Katchoo
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): 5', 140, missing a tooth under that beard
Biography: After the entire 3rd Vytorian Regiment was destroyed when overrun, Buddywas pinned to a wall with other survivors as sacrifices to which whatever god. Fortunately, Fighting Max broke free using sheer strength and pulled Buddy off("Don't tell me getting your palms yanked straight from the nails ain't painful!") with two other guardsmen before fleeing. On the run back to rendezvous, two of those men were killed, leaving Fightmaster and Buddy the sole survivors for all they knew.
Regiment in which served: Vytorian 3rd
Rank: corporal
Occupation: special weapons
Equipment and uniform: laspistol
Wounds: lost an eye, nail wounds in the hands

BTW, wanna join my tanker RP?

Im not sure if nail wounds in the hands would allow them to really utilize much with their hands. The nails would have to have been thick to pin them to walls. So maybe fix that.

And sure, send the link to your other RP. No guarantees.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

What if the reason they were able to get away was because the cultists used pathetic little nails?

http://forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=227077

[Volmachtia]

Character:
Name: Daxtrimadis Esculptor (short Dax)
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): Like this, but with shorter hair.
Biography:
Born on the frigid hive world of Tethia, Dax was a typical manufactory worker until a conscription call among the houses of his home hive resulted in him and millions of others being selected in a lottery for the latest tithe of regiments. The 898th was formed and warred its way throughout the world's subsector as the Sabbat Worlds Crusade ground awfully onwards. Dax ascended to join the Grenadiers, the select elite of his regiment, who receive better equipment and lead charges. When the "liberation" of Epsilon Octarius began, his regiment lead a charge on a Chaotic fortress outside Epsilon Prime. Though they managed to thrash their way in with heavy losses during Lord General Prectis' grand attack, the Chaos counteroffensive sent them sprawling back. Dax was among only a few survivors of the Tethians, who are now sprawled across the plains between Epsilon Prime and the fortress. He is slogging back to the capitol alone, killing any Chaos soldier he comes across without mercy.

Regiment in which served: Tethian 898th
Rank: Sergeant
Occupation: Rifleman/Grenadier
Equipment and uniform: Enhanced lasgun (more power, but slower to fire), combat knife, autopistol, a few frag grenades and a couple incendiary grenades. His uniform is mostly dark brown, black and grey, and is for the most part typical Guard attire, but with a reinforced chestplate. His helmet has a built-in, self-powered gas mask.
Wounds: Grazed along his right side by a stray lasround. He is not seriously injured, but the pain is the worst issue.

[Segmentia]

Application for short term char will be up soon.

[Swith Witherward]

It looks interesting. I've missed out on the last two. I have a few questions which I'll TG shortly.

[Gideus]

I'd love to join but as I'm still having the computer issues I had earlier and as I'm going to be out of town for five days starting Wednesday, I can't commit to this. I'd love to however and if the possibility opens up for myself later, I totally will.

[Sub Sector Protractis]

Character: First Lieutenant Sable Von Grafford of the 21st Dravidian Grenadiers
Name: Sable Von Grafford
Age: 23
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): 5' 9" 186 lbs Blue eyes, Brown hair, barrel chested and muscular. Even through the scars a battle it is easy to see the face of a fair and noble man.
Biography: The planet of Dravidia is the home of a major Schola Progenium facility, as all noble born men of he was sent to the Progenium at the age of 14 to receive a professional education. By the age of 16 he was recruited into the corps of cadets of the Dravidian Grenadiers, who are for all intents and purposes Imperial Storm troopers. The only thing that separates the two organizations is that Grenadiers are not orphans, and Grenadiers also are trained to conduct lavish ceremonies and are experts and close order drill. Grafford received a commission as an officer at the age of 20 and was assigned to the newly refounded 21st Dravidian Grenadiers. His first tour of duty was to the planet of Epsilon Octarious to reinforce the Imperial forces already in the midst of retaking the planet. For three years the Campaign went on as easy as to be expected in a war with the arch enemy with the 21st winning much glory, especially after the regiment turned back the tide of several small Chaos Marine war bands. The losses however began to take their toll on the regiment. Once 3,500 proud troops of the 21st drove Chaos forces from mighty battlements only to be ordered to pull back at when the Imperial line couldn't hold. By the time Lord-General Prectis took command the Regiment consisted of a mere 500 men folded into a single battalion, when the Order came down from Imperial High Command that a major offensive was too occur the Dravidian positions resounded with singing and cheers as the men eager to break the stalemate awaited their orders. When they came the cheers turned to cries of disbelief. The Lord-General did not want them to break into strike teams and destroy key enemy positions as was their purpose of being, he instead demanded that they form parade ranks (something that had been done in the history of the Grenadiers but never in a siege environment) at the center of the battle line and turn back any counter attack. Though the command staff of the 21st was in a state of disbelief they saw that the order was carried out.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Epsilon Octarius, The Grand Offensive

Grafford's men were formed at close order facing him, with the Guidon of his platoon waving in the wind. Behind his platoon was the regimental staff and the Regimental standard, he had to execute this perfectly. He took a breath through the nose when his platoon sergeant said and said "Platoon, Aaa-Tenn-Huut!" walking to face Grafford the platoon Sergeant saluted and said " Sir Echo Company third platoon all present or accounted for."

Grafford replied "Very well, Post!" With that the Platoon Sergeant walked to the right flank of the platoon. Grafford then took his place to the right and front of his platoon sergeant and drew his sword. He raised it and pointed it forward his platoon Sergeant then saying "Platoon! Forr-Warrd! Marrch!". The platoon took a giant step forward and began to march as the Platoon Sergeant began to call cadence " Left, Right, Left, Right, Leeeffft, Hada, Lo, Right" The Quick March of the Grenadiers began to echo through the Cacophony of weapons fire from the location of the regimental staff.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XsW4FoRzhQw

(Adjust Lyrics accordingly)

As Grafford marched with is men he saw scores of Guardsmen from the first wave torn to pieces by the heavy guns of the Arch-enemy. Imperial and Traitor titans clashed and shells filled the air, the Imperial Line surged forward and then stopped. In what seemed like minutes wave after wave of reserves were sent to die against the traitors emplacements. Grafford thought to himself about the Lord-General 'Damn him! By the Emperor Damn that man!' Then it happened the vox net will filled with chaos as the Imperial line broke and the men began to retreat. Commissars found their men unresponsive to both threats of executions and the delivery of said threats, the enemy began a full counter attack the the 21st was right in its way.

Grafford looked to his left as the first las bolts tore into his men, some dropped. Guardsmen of other regiments ran past them as they marched forward. They continued marching until they reached the Regimental rally line. Grafford held up his sword and the Platoon sergeant yelled "Platoon! Halt!... Make ready!" The men echoed it on "Make Ready! cried 40 voices" Grafford then took over "First Rank! Kneel! Aim!, Second Rank! Third Rank! Aim!" the incoming las fire was very accurate and was starting to make an impact on the status of his platoon, the enemy closed distance as the fired and howled. Grafford then Yelled "Fire!" The Hot Shot Las guns tore the enemies in front of them to shreds sometimes with one beam passing through two or three of the traitors. He repeated the order again and again hoping any moment the broke troops that had past them would rally and get on line to stop the counter attack.

The enemy kept coming, "Fire by rank!" Grafford issued the command and perfectly timed las shots crashed into the enemy forces ensuring that no matter what they were always taking fire from the Grenadiers, but it still was not enough there were too many cultists surging forward. "Affix bayonets and fire at will!" The order was followed and the men of the 21st fired until their weapons were in danger of over heating. Grafford then yelled "Charge!" swinging his power sword forward, he and his men crashed into the enemy ranks.

During the Initial contact he fired and killed two cultists and bent over to flip one over his back that swung high with a club. He punched with the guard of his sword and stabbed an enemy through the gut. With every swipe every slash he sent more of the Emperor's enemies to the grave. Despite all he killed however they kept coming, his polished technique and stance gave way to violent desperation. Hacking and slashing, knees, head butts, brawling at best. His body screamed of exhaustion but the enemy would not stop. He looked around for the briefest of moments to see how his men fared. They were losing, the weight of the enemies numbers was over taking them. He pulled one of the cultists by the hair and slit his throat discarding the body, only to see his dead platoon sergeant at his feet He Cried " In the Emperor's name stand your ground, drive them Bacc..." He received a blow to the back of his head and fell to his knees and then the ground. He was so tired, he looked up and saw his men being cut down. He faded into darkness, he was so so tired.

Regiment in which served: The 21st Dravidian Grenadiers
Rank: 1st LT
Occupation: Platoon Leader
Equipment and uniform: Carapace armor, re breather, hotshot lasgun and hotshot las pistol, Power sword, knife in his boot. An Aquila he was given by a sister of the order of the bloody rose.
Wounds: Auto-Gun shot to the right arm, blunt force injury to the back of the head, a scar across his face over his eye from a cultist bayonet. A busted lip.

[Legital]

Both Vol and Protractis are accepted.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

Both Vol and Protractis are accepted.

Of course. Why wouldn't they be?

[Sub Sector Protractis]

Hell ya I am. I mean thank you Leg.

[Bone Fort]

I'll have my app up soon.

[Kintain]

Character:
Name: Roger Carn
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120702032948/warhammer40k/images/5/51/CatachanJungleFighters1.jpg
Biography: Born and raised on Catachan, Roger grew into a hardy and stealthy Jungle fighter as Marbo had been his role model since he was little. A solid marksman, he was made a sniper in the Catachan 23rd Regiment which eventually was deployed on Epsilon Octarius. Having grown close too many of his fellow Catachans, Roger became bitter towards Lord-General Prectis after the launch of the suicidal assault which wiped out at least everyone else in his company. If he can make it off this planet alive, Roger swears he'll take the head of Lord-General Prectis himself, if the bastard isn't dead already.
Regiment in which served: Catachan 23rd
Rank: Sergeant First Class
Occupation: Marksman
Equipment and uniform: Sniper rifle, Camo Cloak, 2 snare mines, 3 frag grenades, Catachan blade
Wounds: Has some shrapnel stuck in his right leg from an explosion that took out his company which he had been (un)fortunately at the rear of trying to call in for reinforcements for a company he had witnessed caught in a lethal struggle against a massive swarm of cultists.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

Character:
Name: Roger Carn
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120702032948/warhammer40k/images/5/51/CatachanJungleFighters1.jpg
Biography: Born and raised on Catachan, Roger grew into a hardy and stealthy Jungle fighter as Marbo had been his role model since he was little. A solid marksman, he was made a sniper in the Catachan 23rd Regiment which eventually was deployed on Epsilon Octarius. Having grown close too many of his fellow Catachans, Roger became bitter towards Lord-General Prectis after the launch of the suicidal assault which wiped out at least everyone else in his company. If he can make it off this planet alive, Roger swears he'll take the head of Lord-General Prectis himself, if the bastard isn't dead already.
Regiment in which served: Catachan 23rd
Rank: Sergeant First Class
Occupation: Marksman
Equipment and uniform: Sniper rifle, Camo Cloak, 2 snare mines, 3 frag grenades, Catachan blade
Wounds: Has some shrapnel stuck in his right leg from an explosion that took out his company which he had been (un)fortunately at the rear of trying to call in for reinforcements for a company he had witnessed caught in a lethal struggle against a massive swarm of cultists.

Kharne?

[Kintain]

Character:
Name: Roger Carn
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120702032948/warhammer40k/images/5/51/CatachanJungleFighters1.jpg
Biography: Born and raised on Catachan, Roger grew into a hardy and stealthy Jungle fighter as Marbo had been his role model since he was little. A solid marksman, he was made a sniper in the Catachan 23rd Regiment which eventually was deployed on Epsilon Octarius. Having grown close too many of his fellow Catachans, Roger became bitter towards Lord-General Prectis after the launch of the suicidal assault which wiped out at least everyone else in his company. If he can make it off this planet alive, Roger swears he'll take the head of Lord-General Prectis himself, if the bastard isn't dead already.
Regiment in which served: Catachan 23rd
Rank: Sergeant First Class
Occupation: Marksman
Equipment and uniform: Sniper rifle, Camo Cloak, 2 snare mines, 3 frag grenades, Catachan blade
Wounds: Has some shrapnel stuck in his right leg from an explosion that took out his company which he had been (un)fortunately at the rear of trying to call in for reinforcements for a company he had witnessed caught in a lethal struggle against a massive swarm of cultists.

Kharne?

Same name (minus the "Dick") I used in your Bombs Away RP.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

Kharne?

Same name (minus the "Dick") I used in your Bombs Away RP.

I see now.

[Gideus]

App is finished.

Name: First Lieutenant Dimitri Major
Age: 37
Gender Sex? Yes Please!: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): Compared to the picture, his hair has grown out a bit and his facial hair is quite ragged.

Biography: Born on the world of Morallis, Dimitri was a man of honor and pride. Honor and pride are everything to a Morallan man; a man of Morallis is a man who's life revolves around his own honor, his regiment's honor, his family's honor, and his planet's honor. There are forty-seven Morallan regiments; within the Morallis Fighting First through Twelve you are almost only able to serve if you are a battle-hardened veteran or a member of the royal families.

Serving for twenty-two years, since he was fifteen, Dimitri has served in the Forty Seventh, the Forty Second, the Thirty Fifth, the Twenty Ninth, the Sixteenth, Fifteenth, Fourteenth, and Thirteenth, before finally being promoted to serving in the honored Third. He has a very large variety of combat honors and medals. His body has very few apparent injuries, and he has undergone almost no rejuvenat procedures. Despite this, due to the extremely well-chosen genes of almost every Morallan family, he does not show the fact that he has seen almost four decades of life in this cruel universe.

Dimitri's regiment was torn apart when they were one of the regiments that refused to heed the retreat orders. The pride of a Morallan prevents them from retreating except when it serves to gain greater glory, to defend the royalty, or when they have not yet set foot on the actual battlefield. His pride has been scarred almost permanently due to this happening as he feels he could have prevented it somehow.

Regiment in which served: The Morallis Fighting Third (Heavy Infantry)
Rank: First Lieutenant, though due to the death of most of the Chain of Command, he could be considered acting Major - "Major Major."
Occupation: Heavy Trooper; Front-Line Commander of the Seventeenth Regiment of the Fighting Third, one of the close-combat oriented Regiments of Morallan origin.
Equipment and Uniform: Coated in the full-body Carapace Armor, albeit with battle wear, which almost every Morallan Regiment makes use of, the majority being Heavy Infantry, his armor is a dull cobalt in color - never receiving light it seems and never returning it. His helmet has a vox system integrated and a tactical display which is integrated with his weapons, as well as functioning as a gas mask - though this last function is mostly broken by now. A ragged dark-grey cloak hangs from his shoulders, the symbol of the Fighting Third barely visible in coal black beneath the battle damage. He maintains the Hotshot Lasrifle which is standard for most First Lieutenant and higher combat officers within the Morallis Fighting Second and Third as his primary weapon though a Hellpistol adorns his side, the power pack it is attached to by a closely hooked to his suit cable being between his shoulder blades, giving him a hulking appearance. He has since discarded his now useless chainsword, every possible orifice of it clogged with armor, flesh, and fibers of clothes. He took his CO's power sword, Legate, as the CO's dying wish. The top of the hand-parts of the Morallis Fighting Third's armor juts out over the knuckles, sharpened into a blade which is used to augment punches but that can be folded up to avoid dulling it on armor.
Wounds: Is any wound greater than a wound to the pride of a man of Morallis?

I'll finish this soon, I just need to find a good picture.

[Woodstovia]

Character:
Name: Leopold Lancro
Age: 18
Gender: male
Appearance (Image preferred): Blue eyes, blonde hair, shaved face, sharp features, quite handsome.
Biography: Leopold was the son of a worker on the hive world of Polteia who was conscripted into the 586th division, he was sent to Epsilon Octarius with only 30 minutes of training, he arrived three days before the attack begun and was thrust onto the front lines, Leopold's officer was killed and he briefly led the platoon to do small delaying actions with decent results however one of his plans failed miserably and his platoon was slaughtered with Leopold only able to escape due to being at the back.
Regiment in which served: 586th Polteian rifles
Rank: Lieutenant
Occupation: rifleman
Equipment and uniform: rifle with bayonet.
Wounds: Shot in the left leg and now finds it difficult to walk with the leg although the injury doesn't seem to be severe.

[Gideus]

Also, this may be handy for choosing a rank, everyone.

http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Imperial_Guard_Hierarchy#Regimental_Officers

[Phonencia]

Character:
Name: Matthew Shelton
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: face, 6'4, lean and muscular build, dark brown hair, dark green eyes, tan skin
Biography: Trooper Shelton was born in a small village on the feudal planet Gudrun to a veteran of the Imperial Guard and a civilain woman. Growing up, he had many friends with which he spent many of his days (when not working) reenacting some of the Imperial Guard's great battles, not knowing the pure hell they would endure as adults, serving the God Emperor of Mankind. One of Matthew's many friends was a young blonde girl named Taylor, the oldest daughter of the wealthiest family in the village. It was over the course of their many years together that the simple farm boy and wealthy young lady fell in love. They spent several years courting like good little children when around their peers or parents and sneaking away for a quick kiss when alone and given time to themselves. By adulthood, their relationship had become serious and committed and Matthew was comtemplating a marriage proposal when he was conscripted into the Imperial Guard. Though he wore his uniform proudly and kept his head held high throughout the village's celebratory send off for him and his fellow conscripts, he was secretly terrified and in dispair at the thought of likely dying on some far away battlefield. Over the course of the fighting on Epsilon Prime, his friends and nearly his entire Regiment were killed. He is the sole survivor of his unit and now, his friends dead, heart shattered and faith (however little he originally had) in the Emperor destroyed, all he wants is to make it home to the rolling green hills of Gudrun alive, back to his love and his home.
Regiment in which served: Gudrun 13'th Regiment
Rank: Trooper
Occupation: Rifleman
Equipment: black painted M-36 Kantrael pattern Lasgun with bayonet, Ceres pattern Bolt Pistol (taken from the corpse of a Commissar)
Uniform: Grey fatigues under black Flak Armor and Helmet with red stripes down the legs and arms and a red cross on the breastplate (armor of the Gudrun 13'th Regiment)
Wounds: Light injury to the left arm from a glancing shot from a las weapon, covered up by a cool looking bandage.


Just a note, I don't play Warhammer 40K and know fairly little about the universe but I AM learning about the storyline and setting as best I can and would like to take part in this roleplay. Please feel free to correct me if I screw something up.

EDIT: by the way, here's an MSPaint model of my character (his bandage is on the wrong side intentionally so that it's visible. ICly it's on the LEFT arm)

[Legital]

Character:
Name: Roger Carn
Age: 34
Gender: Male
Appearance (Image preferred): http://images1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120702032948/warhammer40k/images/5/51/CatachanJungleFighters1.jpg
Biography: Born and raised on Catachan, Roger grew into a hardy and stealthy Jungle fighter as Marbo had been his role model since he was little. A solid marksman, he was made a sniper in the Catachan 23rd Regiment which eventually was deployed on Epsilon Octarius. Having grown close too many of his fellow Catachans, Roger became bitter towards Lord-General Prectis after the launch of the suicidal assault which wiped out at least everyone else in his company. If he can make it off this planet alive, Roger swears he'll take the head of Lord-General Prectis himself, if the bastard isn't dead already.
Regiment in which served: Catachan 23rd
Rank: Sergeant First Class
Occupation: Marksman
Equipment and uniform: Sniper rifle, Camo Cloak, 2 snare mines, 3 frag grenades, Catachan blade
Wounds: Has some shrapnel stuck in his right leg from an explosion that took out his company which he had been (un)fortunately at the rear of trying to call in for reinforcements for a company he had witnessed caught in a lethal struggle against a massive swarm of cultists.

Character:
Name: Leopold Lancro
Age: 18
Gender: male
Appearance (Image preferred): Blue eyes, blonde hair, shaved face, sharp features, quite handsome.
Biography: Leopold was the son of a worker on the hive world of Polteia who was conscripted into the 586th division, he was sent to Epsilon Octarius with only 30 minutes of training, he arrived three days before the attack begun and was thrust onto the front lines, Leopold's officer was killed and he briefly led the platoon to do small delaying actions with decent results however one of his plans failed miserably and his platoon was slaughtered with Leopold only able to escape due to being at the back.
Regiment in which served: 586th Polteian rifles
Rank: Lieutenant
Occupation: rifleman
Equipment and uniform: rifle with bayonet.
Wounds: Shot in the left leg and now finds it difficult to walk with the leg although the injury doesn't seem to be severe.

Character:
Name: Matthew Shelton
Age: 19
Gender: Male
Appearance: face, 6'4, lean and muscular build, dark brown hair, dark green eyes, tan skin
Biography: Trooper Shelton was born in a small village on the feudal planet Gudrun to a veteran of the Imperial Guard and a civilain woman. Growing up, he had many friends with which he spent many of his days (when not working) reenacting some of the Imperial Guard's great battles, not knowing the pure hell they would endure as adults, serving the God Emperor of Mankind. One of Matthew's many friends was a young blonde girl named Taylor, the oldest daughter of the wealthiest family in the village. It was over the course of their many years together that the simple farm boy and wealthy young lady fell in love. They spent several years courting like good little children when around their peers or parents and sneaking away for a quick kiss when alone and given time to themselves. By adulthood, their relationship had become serious and committed and Matthew was comtemplating a marriage proposal when he was conscripted into the Imperial Guard. Though he wore his uniform proudly and kept his head held high throughout the village's celebratory send off for him and his fellow conscripts, he was secretly terrified and in dispair at the thought of likely dying on some far away battlefield. Over the course of the fighting on Epsilon Prime, his friends and nearly his entire Regiment were killed. He is the sole survivor of his unit and now, his friends dead, heart shattered and faith (however little he originally had) in the Emperor destroyed, all he wants is to make it home to the rolling green hills of Gudrun alive, back to his love and his home.
Regiment in which served: Gudrun 13'th Regiment
Rank: Trooper
Occupation: Rifleman
Equipment: black painted M-36 Kantrael pattern Lasgun with bayonet, Ceres pattern Bolt Pistol (taken from the corpse of a Commissar)
Uniform: Grey fatigues under black Flak Armor and Helmet with red stripes down the legs and arms and a red cross on the breastplate (armor of the Gudrun 13'th Regiment)
Wounds: Light injury to the left arm from a glancing shot from a las weapon, covered up by a cool looking bandage.


Just a note, I don't play Warhammer 40K and know fairly little about the universe but I AM learning about the storyline and setting as best I can and would like to take part in this roleplay. Please feel free to correct me if I screw something up.

EDIT: by the way, here's an MSPaint model of my character (his bandage is on the wrong side intentionally so that it's visible. ICly it's on the LEFT arm)
(Image)

All accepted.

And Phonencia, no problem. We'll help you out.

[The Empire of Pretantia]

Still want the nail wounds removed?

[Phonencia]

Yay! So when's the IC going up?