Imperium Characters

Name: Faust

Titles: Bat, Twist, Mutant, Abhuman, Nightsider, etc

Age: unknown but all signs point to young

Physical Attributes: Blind, Albino with huge ears, androgynous with no real discernable gender, physically stretched with long extra jointed fingers. Hunched with long backwards jointed legs he’s adapted to moving swiftly and silently through lightless environments. His musculature and build allows him to climb vertical surfaces and even hang upside down by distributing his weight through his long limbs and narrow body. His blind eyes are several times larger than that of a normal person and his ears are more reminiscent of a bats hence their nickname. Pic found below.

Place of Origin: Nightworld of Sigil, a bustling Imperial hiveworld on the fringes of Segementum Pascifics.

Organization/Affiliation: Branded with the I that Sleepith Not Faust obviously has ties with the Imperial Inquisition but the when and the how remain a mystery to all but perhaps a few Inquisitors out there.

Personality: As a creature with such developed ears, naturally his personality is one of intense silence. This does not mean he’s characterless. Fervently loyal to the Throne he pursues his tasks with a single-minded dedication. His phenomenal sense of hearing is at once his greatest asset and his greatest weakness. Employed correctly he can listen to nearly everything there is to hear within an area as large as a city block. This however is overwhelming as his mind is geared towards echolocation, everything he hears, he sees with clarity, and in the Grim Darkness of the Warhammer universe, there is much that would be best unseen.

Weapon/tool of choice: Despite being armed with quills, running down his back that excretes a powerful neurotoxin, sharp claws and teeth Faust is rarely found at the fore of any fight. His greatest weapon is his patience and his ability to ‘see’ things coming his way making him an excellent forward scout of stealthy infiltrator. Still, in a pinch those long, long clawed fingers make for perfect stranglers hands.

Goals (if any): To serve the Emperor, to die in His cause to make amends for being born a freak in a galaxy that does not tolerate his affliction.

A RP sample of the character:

Cold, he wrapped his arms around his body and grew still. His inhumanly large eyes stared into nothing, first his breathing slowed down then his heart, his ears began to vibrate imperceptibly. A line of sticky saliva dripped from the corner of his lips but he made no move to wipe it away. Left in total silence his world was blank, but not for long. Softly, so very softly his powerful ears caught the echo return of distant noise. Only once he caught the sound did he move, his head turned sharply, mechanically towards its source, both ears standing tall and straining.

His world began to take shape, faint fuzzy lines of sound painted the picture of long corridors beyond the room he lay in.

+Focus, focus Faust+ words in his head, a touch in his mind, a voice not his own, he barely heard them.

Outward his awareness traveled slowly like the tottering first steps of a child, gusty corridors, bulkheads dripping with condensed moisture, whirring machinery, moaning ventilation shafts stirring the greasy air. He saw them with crystalline clarity, and he saw himself seeing them, his own heartbeat casting an image of himself. He watched himself perched on the edge of the slab steel table, his long stranglers hands gripping his shoulders, his lean inhuman face partially lost behind his long lank hair, with those ghastly huge unseeing eyes, those cracked chapped lips parted to show sharp teeth. He wasn’t even a he, it was vile to behold, his naked narrow chest swollen slightly, the barest hint of breasts, that undecided bump of flesh between his legs, mutant, foul, disgusting…

+Focus Faust+ the voice warned again. Faust cringed away from the mental voice, away from the feathery touch of icy fingertips in his mind. His heart began to beat a little faster and he calmed it with a deeper breath.

Everything was a jumble for a moment but he righted himself, ignoring much of what was painted in his mind in the way someone would choose to ignore conversations in a crowded room around them, he heard them, saw the image in his mind but did not linger upon it.

People began to take shape, he had to focus on them their quick movements, the tempo of their hearts and the huff and puff of their lungs were all different from one another. It hurt to look at them all as a few became many, all of them moving and doing, all of them busy with something, clicking keys, humming, talking, clanking, scuffing, thumping hundreds of sounds all struggled to fit into his mind. He gurgled a pained sound, his slow breaths rasping through his clenched teeth.

+Calm Faust, calm, tune them out, go forward+ soothed the voice.
“Nuungk!” gasped Faust, his clawed fingers digging into his shoulders, he was close to overload and he’d barely even begun, he’d spent too long in the silence now even this was agony. “P-please!” he rasped, his hands moving to hover over his ears wanting to stop them up and shut everything out.

+Find her Faust+ the voice insisted, brittle, hard edged sharp, sharp like ice in the dark.

“I c-cant!” he wailed, panic making him grip his hair in his hands, his lip wobbled and tears rolled down his cheeks. Everything was in chaos, it was too much, he was everywhere, he saw everything, overload, overload everything was moving, everything was too loud, far, far too loud! A buzzing started in the back of his skull as he began to hyperventilate, the racing visions in his brain began to bleed together and distort as his heartbeat hammering away made the capillaries in his ears swell and distend grossly.

“Nnuuahh!” he cried throwing himself backwards, his back arching and his clawed hands and feet scrabbling against the table, the thick quills sprouting from his knobby spine extended fully and jetted tiny streams of caustic venom under pressure.

The voice took control so suddenly and violently that for a moment Faust thought he must surely be dead. Ice, real ice rimed the room so suddenly and completely his naked flesh stuck to the table. His heart forcibly slowed and his breathing all but stopped, every muscle in his body locked up and then relaxed. His mind was still in panic, but slowly like a fire being smothered by a blanket it calmed, overwhelmed by the frost. Everything that made him who he was was pushed aside, all his hopes and dreams, his desires and fears were made small and packed away as He took over.

He couldn’t see Him, he never could, he was only the voice even though he knew he was in the room with him, He was only ever a blur, the hint of a hint of a figure standing beside him, but now inside his mind He was a colossus.

Please not the dark place! Cried Faust through his silent thoughts, knowing that his voice was only a whisper in the gale. Uncaring, unmoving He forced him onwards opening his senses completely and suddenly all was clear. In a moment of great and terrible clarity Faust saw everything, the length and breadth of the monstrous ship, everything that walked and crawled its cavernous halls, the crew, the rats, the scuttling things that lurked in the deep places by the engines that harnessed the power of the gods. His nose bled, his eyes bled, it rolled over his lips in thick coppery rivulets, it even exuded from the pours of his skin. His mind raced as fast as a sizzling lasblast, it hurled itself headlong through the noise and vibrations and there she was, smiling, she knew she’d been found.

“Faust.” She said with the barest hint of a smile on her lips. Faust gurgled blood as the iron cold grip on his mind eased. He twitched weakly as the null field began to power back up and the outside world began to fade.

+Good job Faust, you’re getting better+ soothed the voice, he felt a hand touch him briefly on the shoulder, a reassuring gesture before He was gone. Faust lay there in the silence; profoundly blind save for the quaking after images of himself weeping softly in the darkness.

Name: Kill-Marine Kald'r Manin

Titles: Brother Kill-Marine, The Huntsman

Age: 308

Physical Attributes: Height- 8''9 Weight without armour-200lbs
Hair-ash black Eyes-pale blue skin-pale bone white Point of Note: large gunshot scar on upper left temple and multiple metal clamps holding unhealed wound as the larraman cells in the area were neutralized via the unique bolt round fired at him.
I'll get a picture of him up on DA asap

Place of Origin: Armageddon

Organization/Affiliation: Deathwatch arm of the Ordos Xenos

Personality: cold, calculating. Brilliant tactician as well as skilled fighter. Outside of battle however, he is the stark opposite, being friendly and calm around other Deathwatch soldiers and brothers from his home chapter. However he is ignorant to other chapters -other than those close to his own i.e. Imperial Fists and Black Templars- often outright ignoring them out of spite, mainly due to his belief that the other chapters wished for his own to of been wiped out during the defense of Rynn's World. He is however highly protective of those he fights alongside.

Weapon/tool of choice: deathwatch bolter, Holy Relic blade 'Antiquity', unique bolt-pistol 'Exterminus' using custom neural-inhibiting rounds

Goals: Under orders by the Ordos Xenos to regroup with Kill-Team Sabre, however hunting down rouge kill-marine as a personal vendetta

A RP sample of the character: A third son of an important noble in the hive world of Armageddon, that is how Kald'r Manin grew up. His two elder brothers were trained to become officers in the Planetary Defense Force known as the Steel Legion, where they would become advisers or acolytes of the great Hero of Hive Hades, Sebastian Yarrick. However, whilst they were built towards greatness, the only future seen for the young five year-old was the priesthood of the ecclesiarchy . However this all changed after the third war for the planet. Their home was attacked by the foul xenos, which quickly killed the feeble old man that was Kald'rs father and butchered his begging brothers, whom had broken under the pressure. But before they could kill him, took up his father's pistol and in one foul blast, killed the two Orks that had wiped out his family. It was then when he was spotted by two Crimson Fists marines, and was enrolled into their ranks as a scout. Many years passed and after 200 years service as a loyal son of Dorn, he was chosen to join the hallowed ranks of the Ordos Xenos elite force of Xenos Hunters- The Deathwatch.

“Five hundred meters to target...four hundred...three hundred...NOW activate the charges!” With that order, kill-Marine Manin clicked the detonator switch for their pre-planted explosive charges. “Good effects on targets, one hammerhead down.” Calmly told his fellow Kill-Marine, Brother Achillies of the Blood Angels. They had arrived at Subsector Archimedes to root out any Tau forces, which eventually lead them to a major field base. But it was not only tau in the Subsector.
“Brother, do you hear something?” asked Manin inquisitively. “It's like a...chant” but before his battle brother could reply, the scene below them suddenly changed. As the Tau desperately dragged their wounded comrades to safety, multiple foul tears in the materium appeared. Chaos.

As the cries of dying Tau echoed through the valley, Manin planned their next course of action.
“We have to report this to someone brother!” cried the veteran Kill-Marine. “Scan for any nearby Imperial Navy ships”
“Got one! Sending alert” suddenly replied his battle brother.
“Good, we need re-enforcements to defeat this taint.” sighed the Crimson Fist.

A few weeks later, their supposed re-enforcements had not arrived. And they were running desperately low on ammo. As Manin searched the possibilities of escape, and thus survival, in his head, his battle-brother had his own idea.
“I'm sorry brother. Today is difficult but tomorrow we all win” as Manin spun around to ask what his battle-brother had just said, he was met by the end of his bolt-gun. Kald'r awoke from his gunshot wound three months later, under the watchful eye of some fellow Deathwatch soldiers- sent to investigate why connection to him and Achillies had been lost- and until he breathes his last, he will hunt down and kill his former brother.

Name: Scelene

Titles: Spike (Nickname)

Age: 21

Physical Attributes: Tall and thin, mostly due to malnourishment, it is entirely possible that Scelene could be an attractive woman if you could scrape away the grime and dirt, convince her to remove her facial piercings, and somehow manage to brush out her tangled mess of black hair. As it stands though, she looks every bit the part of the lower hive ganger scum she is.

Place of Origin: Ambiguous Hive World (Allowing me to conveniently locate her wherever necessary.)

Organization/Affiliation: Lower Hive Gang

Personality: In the harsh world of the sqaulid underhive you often have only one option for survival and that's to run with one of the vicious hive gangs that war for turf constantly. Scelene is rude and vulgar, rarely mincing words, but constant betrayal has left her unwilling to trust and uneasy around people she doesn't know. Despite her upbringing Scelene can be a charming and persuasive individual when she so chooses, but such instances are few and far between.

Weapon/tool of choice: an unremarkable autopistol and stub-automatic

Goals (if any): Survival by any means necessary

A RP sample of the character:

This wasn't something she liked to do. Most nights she would just head up to the mid-hive and mug some factory worker for enough money to buy something to eat. But not tonight. Tonight she had instruction. Tonight, the boss had asked for her and three others to do something for the gang.

It was never good when the bosses asked them to do something. And this time was no different. A rival gang was pushing in on their territory. Their dealers had already taken a few of their corners and were now selling where they had with impunity.

"Ice the bastards." She'd been instructed.

So there she was, in an alley, watching a kid half her age peddling one illicit substance or another to any one who would buy it. At her back were three other gang members, all with the same instructions she had. She had no real authority over them, and only the fact that she was the oldest had seen them default to her 'leadership'.

"Spike," The one closest to her said, using her street name. "Is that him?"

"Yeah." Scelene replied with a sigh.

"Well what are we waiting for?" He cried, eager to use the matte-black revolver in his hand. She doubted he'd fired it before, he probably only barely knew which end he was supposed to point at the other guy.

"The kid's alone." She answered. "If you had just pushed in on a rival gang's corners would you leave your dealers out in the open with no protection?"

He was silent, and after a moment turned back to the others, continuing whatever whispered conversation they'd been having before. Minutes ticked by slowly as she kept waiting for guards, enforcers, or hell even a few runners to show up to help the kid on the corner. They never did. He was still alone.

"Spike," He called again. "Let's go already."

"Shut up Tran!" She snapped turning towards him. He scowled. It was a scowl she'd seen a great many times on too many faces to count.

It was a scowl that said he was about to do something stupid, and she was going to get shot at.

Unsurprisingly, that's exactly what happened. Tran shouldered past her, out of the alley, and lifted his revolver firing twice at the kid on the corner while he walked. The two others were right behind him, firing as well.

The kid fell to the ground, she couldn't tell if it was because he'd been hit or because he was trying to avoid getting hit. The crowd was in a panic instantly, everyone fleeing the area as more gunfire erupted when five gangers ran around the corner and opened up on Tran. Nothing like a gun fight to clear out a crowd.

Muttering curses Scelene emerged from the alley, a gun in each hand. At times, ambidexterity had its advantages. The loud staccato of her autopistol accompanied by the steady boom of the stub-automatic were added to the growing cacophony of gun fire echoing around the corner.

It was over as quickly as it had started. Tran and his overzealous lackeys were dead at her feet, and the five rival gangers were dead, injured, or had lost their nerve and run off as soon as a fully automatic weapon was brought into play against them.

Alone, with some form of law enforcement probably not long off she spared only enough time to flip over the kid with her foot. He was dead, a look of shock and fear frozen onto his young face. Scelene stared at him for a moment, before turning and making her own speedy exit.

This was something she hated doing.

Name: Infernatos Chronus
Titles: The Fire Spectre.
Age: 224
Physical Attributes: Obsidian skin like most Salamanders, Eyes a cold white rather than the raging red eyes usually seen on Salamanders, Bald like most marines but almost never removes his Helmet, 8 ft 4 height. Notable points : Large Crack in right shoulder plate and various dents scratches and holes in Armour caused by Bolter fire, Flames black instead of white, red or orange.
Place of Origin: Nocturne
Organization/Affiliation: Salamanders 3rd company.
Personality: Fairly loud, Burning anger inside waiting to be unleashed upon all xenos. Prone to making some bad tactical choices but being an excellent motivator and speaker, has a superb skill in close combat and is extremely adept with flame weaponry of any kind, has a fairly good skill with regular weaponry which means he does not need to rely on close combat situations.
Wary of other Chapters due to past meetings with heretics and traitors.
Weapon/tool of choice: Standard Bolter with a black flame etched onto the side, Heavy Flamer and a unique spear called "Abyss" which was crafted on the Salamanders home world Nocturne.
Goals (if any): To Protect Humanity first and foremost and to aid any Imperium forces in battle.
A RP sample of the character: Chronus watched as the Heretics appeared on the opposite side of the courtyard. He estimated around 50 cultists and 15 Godforsaken Chaos Marines. There were civilians trying to escape through the large building behind him and only he and three fellow Salamanders stood between them and the heretics. As the cultists charged toward them Chronus primed his heavy flamer, the flash of bright flames poured from the weapon and the traitors began to fall , one by one as he advanced into the crowd, burning all who were in his way, the three salamanders began to give Chronus covering fire as he incinerated the heretic scum. As the Last of the Cultists fell at the power of his weapon he motioned for his three brothers in arms to focus their covering fire on the marines as he drew them away. Two of the Traitors fell and they began to focus on Chronus's squad mates. This was not going the way he wanted.. Chronus grabbed his spear and thrust it through the nearest heretics gut. The Chaos marines drew closer and his Squadmates began to question Chronus's decision. As the last of the distance between the two had closed the two Salamanders drew their blades and began to cut through the marines. The three had ended six heretic lives by the time they became overwhelmed, Chronus plunged the spear through one more of the tainted marines before he led them off into the city.
( thanks for the help Gazzz477, well you told me what to fix but yeah thanks)

Name: Sir Rawne

Titles: none

Age: ?

Appearance: Snow white short hair, two service studs (didn't want anymore) wolf like brown eyes, wolf like teeth, body covered in scars. Average height for a space marine.

Place of origin: unknown.

Affiliation: Cryptic Knights aka Legion XI

Personality: A very friendly space marine, he often tells jokes when he can and tends to makes close bonds. He has a strong sense of honor and refuses to do anything he seems dishonorable. If someone orders him to he will refuse maybe even kill the one who gave the order. Even if they are part of the Imperium.

Goals: "Kick Chaos ass where I can find it and someday find a nice girl. Maybe that Banshee over there...."

Weapons of Choice: A personalized chain fist, assault cannon and cyclone missile launchers. Along with his own customized terminator set of armor.

Rp sample: Rawne looked out into the void of space. He wondered when the next attack would be. Hell when would they have a shore leave? He was getting bored. Well at least the Dreadnought Hirsir would keep him entertained for a while.

In combat: Rawne unleashed hell with his assault cannon mowing down cultists. A Khornenate leaped at him hoping for a quick kill. Rawne just slammed his chain fist into the heretic causing the traitor to explode. The Chaos was now retreating from the one man army. He smirked and fired his missile. What little survivors were left he teleported into the middle of amd used his fist to finish them off.

Seeing a servitor: Rawne eyes the servitor shaking a bit due to how this thing terrifed him. He slowly backed away hoping it didn't see him. It didn't. "I hate those things." he turns and there's another one standing in front of him. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Name: Liah Inofen

Title: Sergeant

Age: mid twenties, warp travel between warzones has made keeping it standardized somewhat difficult, but approximately 25 Imperial Standard.

Physical Attributes: Like all men and women from their world *see below* she’s built strongly, not quite short, dark skinned with even darker hair and vibrant green eyes. With her haircut short to better fit under a combat helmet and her lean frame corded with visible muscle she could not be described as beautiful in the classical sense, rather she might be described as a good-looking tomboy.
Dressed in the abbreviated blue schemed drop equipment made famous by such regiments as the Elysian Drop Troopers she looks like she means business toting as much of her equipment about her person as she possibly can while still traveling light.

Place of Origin: The Forest world of Niliesia has only a few settlements as the rest of the planet is entirely devoured by impenetrable super trees. Home to the enormous predatory marsupials known as Lupradons Niliesia's only export is lumber, meat, and the money it can make by chartering hunting trips into its uncharted wilderness for rich offworlders. Due to the super dense environs, the only way to move about the place is either in sentinels on the ground or by flyers making the denizens of Niliesa natural born drop troopers.

Organization: Imperial Guard, 412th Lupradons Drop Troopers

Personality: Tough chick, proud of her sergeants stripes, veteran trooper, but the war on Erin Secundus is far, far over her head and beyond anything she’s ever experienced,
Goal: To live, and if not that then to at least sell her life as effectively as she can.

Sample:


Liah cursed all the way down, she always did, no amount of training could get her to stop. Profanity streamed from her mouth only to be snatched away by the wind as she plummeted in freefall. Watching the altimeter on her wrist carefully she expertly eased the juice into the thrusters of her grav chute gunning her way to the left to adjust her course with a professional ease. Her face stayed grim, focused, but she continued to curse even as she reached optimal elevation and keyed the chutes activation stud.
She broke through the cloud cover over the mist-shrouded bog and dropped down further still before the chute gradually slowed her to a perfect stop. Ditching the chute which was immediately swallowed up by brackish water, she brought her carbine, clipped to her chest harness up and scanned her surroundings, a tight smile pulled at her lips. She was directly on target.

Titles: Alpha, Psyker, Project Nova.

Age: 16

Physical Attributes: [ H-5’6”] [ W-103lbs] [hair-White] [Skin Pale] [Eyes- Green or Red]

Place of Origin: Classified

Organization/Affiliation: Ordo Hereticus, Ordo Sicarius / Officio Assassinorum

Personality: Ember is an powerful young Psyker with a split personality called Nova. In order to control the Alpha Psyker, Ember was put through an unusual sanctioning process. The Extensive brainwashing, warding, and training resulted in social isolation for the majority of her life, causing ember to be childish, detached and socially awkward.


‘Nova’, or ‘She’ as ember calls her is the product of the Assassinorums and inquisition’s extensive brainwashing. A split personality, made to use the full extent of the Psyker powers under complete control of the inquisition. Once activated Nova is cold, calculating and emotionless, following any order she is given by her caretaker without remorse.


Weapon/tool of choice: Ember: Telepathy / Telekinetic, Nova: Psychic Flame


Goals (if any): Ember: Protect those close to her.

                     Nova: Her only goal is the completion of the order given.


A RP sample of the character:

The scent of burned flesh, molten fabric and charred armor filled the air while Nova walked through the streets of the Lower hive. The reach of her inferno spread with every step she took as she headed towards the center of the hive, killing anyone and destroying anything that was left after the evacuation when the heretics compromised the lower Hive.


The screams of the people who got swallowed by her flames did nothing to her, she did not care who the victim of her cleansing flames where. She only cared about the objective given by Lord Inquisitor Hellax and followed it by the letter. With a somewhat bored look on her face she continued as she looked into the distance as if her mind was elsewhere.


As she approached the center she noticed a ‘presence’ coming front the central square and smiled. Her pace quickened as she rushed to the source of power at her destination and when she reached the opening of the plaza she noticed a second presence. She directed the flames in such a way that they moved around the plaza, leaving them nowhere to run to as she approached the duo. She saw a few guards standing in front of them who pulled there las pistols to their head and with one notion from the Psyker shot themselves.


They looked up, smiling from ear to ear as they watched Nova approach them.

“So you’re the Psyker I felt coming… You are younger than I thought” the older one said.

Nova did not reply and just stood there, observing the seemingly powerful unsanctioned Psykers.

“Not much of a talker huh. Why fight, why being ruled over men who are afraid of you, preventing you from reaching your full potential.” The woman shook her head as Nova remained silent and told her companion to keep going. As the companion turned around though she noticed the flames enclosing around them.


“Such a waste. It pains me to have to put down a fellow Psyker, but you leave me no choice”

Her eyes glowed bright purple as she forced her will into Nova’s mind in a attempt to break her will.

But after a shot pause the Telepath screamed out in agony and fell back, landing on her rear and hands as she looked in shock at Nova. “W..What are you?!” she screamed while crawling back.


Her companion did not like the state of her friend and stepped in between them as bolts of pure warp energy shot out of the palm of his hands. The impact of the doom bolts kicked up a cloud of dirt and ash while he laughed. “An imperial lapdog is no match for the raw powers of a Psyker the warp”


His smile quickly disappeared however as a female silhouette of blue flames appeared in the cloud and watched in terror as 2 large flaming wings spread to both sides of the womanly figure. In a panic he unleased another salvo of bolts, followed up by the crackling sound of lightning that shot from the tip of his staff. Nova jumped into the air and out of the dust cloud, revealing her body had turned into the pure embodiment of fire with the I of the inquisition as her sanctioning brand on her chest.


She leapt down onto the Heretic Psyker, grabbing his arm and making him scream out in pain as his flesh started to boil. “I’m sorry, did I break your concentration?” Nova said in an amused voice. The biomancer pulled his arm back loose as he swung his warp staff in Nova’s direction and dropped it to grab his burned arm. He sinks to his knees, muttering chants as he moves his hand over the burn, healing the tissue in an attempt to stop de pain.


“Aeron Deyanira, you have been charged with Crimes against the emporium, being responsible for the corruption and destruction of Hive Enya and being a rogue unsanctioned Psyker. All of these accusations have the death penalty.” She says with a cold voice but is interrupted by the less experienced Psyker as he leaped with a power blade at her. Without even lifting a finger the man bursts into flames screaming in pain as he is disintegrates. She looks back at the woman who managed to stand up and continues. “You have been found guilty on all charges”. She unfolds her wings and brings them down on the Telepath, leaving only a charred imprint on the ground where her body used to be.


Nova closes her eyes, dousing the flames around her and returns her body to normal. With the snap of her finger she pulls a black robe, baring the Inquisition mark through the warp itself and covers her exposed body. Shortly after she hears the familiar voice of Inquisitor Hellax from the distance “Amazing Nova, absolutely amazing. Well done”

She was followed by a battalion of well fitted Guardsman and two representatives of The Officio Assassinorum who looked around at the burned down under hive. Once the inquisitor catches up she smiles and walks with open arms towards Nova and gives her a big hug. “I would say the mission was a great success, wouldn’t you say?” she asked while looking at the 2 piles of ash in the center of the square.


When the two representatives caught up she pulled Nova close and whispered a code in her ear before stretching out here arms and holding Nova by her shoulders in front of her. As soon as Nova heard the code she closed her eyes and when she opened them the first blood red irises had turned green.

“Nov.. Ember, dear, are you alright?” Hellax asked while she looked into her eyes for any sign of damage or problems. Ember smiled and nodded “Can we go home now?”


The inquisitor looked at the two officio assassinorum, who Ember recognized as the head scientist of Project Nova and a higher up within the officio. They looked at each other and exchanged some word before the head scientist walked up to Ember. “Ember, you’ll be staying in the care of Inquisitor Hellax from now on. She’ll take care of you from now on.”


Ember smiled and as he handed over a small metal orb, made from a strange metallic material. It was her Psy-focus, and as soon as Ember touched it, it became to glow as if the orb caught fire from the inside. “Really?! Its mine now?! That… That means I’m done right? My training is over?”
 The scientist smiled and nodded. “Yes dear, and you’ll now work for Inquisitor Hellax.”


Hellax took Embers hand and took her back to the Valkyrie as the guardsman secured the Hive.