extra-characters, RPG, Warhammer 40k rpg
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I
o r g o
Male Imperial World
Cleric
as he whispered in your ear that his name
was Zerbe, an Inquisitor in the service of
the Holy Ordos and that he had come for
you. As you muttered your inal rites you
were shocked in to silence when he began
laughing, saying that it was not your death
that he required but your service within his
retinue of acolytes!
Your holy faith keeps you pure of mind
and deed. You are wise to the world of men
and have an uncanny aptitude of providing
the right ministrations to those you
encounter – whether it be kind words of
holy scripture to the poor munitions worker
or a hail of bullets to hasten the cleansing of
the impure of mind and body.
“Even the darkest souls shall wither before the
light of the Emperor.”
All your life you
have known service
to the God-Emperor
of Mankind. Born
an orphan and
raised upon the
holy shrine world
of Drusus, a planet
named after the very
saint who brought
the Calixis Sector
into the light of the Imperium. Each and every
day you have followed the holy devotions to
nurture your soul, seeking guidance so that
you may in turn provide guidance to the
thousands of pilgrims who make the journey
to this most holy of worlds.
You have come a long way from the days
of your youth. Your masters were pleased
with your zeal, piety and utter dedication to
your work, sending you forth to minister to
those in the teeming hive-cities of Scintilla.
Believing you would be positioned to
attend to the souls of the nobility within the
magniicent upper spires of Hive Sibellus,
you were somewhat taken-a-back to ind
yourself tasked with bringing the light of
the Emperor to those who dwelt in the lower
hive hab-blocks; where the endless drudgery
of existence hung heavy on the millions who
lived there. The Emperor works in mysterious
ways and who were you to question the work
you had been set, so for the last ten years
you have brought the righteous word of the
Ecclesiarchy to those most in need of it.
Recently your path crossed with a
strange man who had rushed into chambers
unannounced. Fearing that some underhive
scum had gained access; you reached for
your gun and shot wildly at the dark igure
approaching your bed. Before you knew it
the robed stranger had unarmed you and
held you in an iron grip. Your legs gave way
Main Proile
WS BS S T Ag Int Per WP Fel
38 37 26 36 42 28 35 31 34
Movement:
4/8/12/24
Wounds:
12
Fate Points:
2
Skills: Common Lore (Ecclesiarchy)
(Int), Common Lore (Imperial Creed)
(Int), Literacy (Int), Performer (Singer)
(Fel), Speak Language (Low Gothic)
(Int), Trade (Cook) (Int).
Talents:
Basic Weapons Training (Primitive),
Melee Weapon Training (Primitive), Pistol
Training (SP), Resistance (Heat) (+10 bonus
to resist Heat/Flames).
Weapons:
Stub Revolver with 2 clips (Pistol [SP]; 30m;
RoF S/–/–; Damage: 1d10+2 I; Clip 6;
Reload 2 Full Actions).
Crossbow with 6 bolts (Basic {Primitive];
30m; RoF S/–/–; Damage: 1d10 R; Clip
1; Reload 2 Full Actions).
Hammer (Melee [Primitive]; Damage: 1d10
I; Unbalanced [-10 Parry]).
Gear:
Chain Coat (AP 3: Arms, Body Legs),
Aquila Necklace, Ecclesiarchy Robes (Good
Quality Clothing), 4 Candles, Charm (Skull),
Backpack.
J
e r I c u s
Male Imperial World Adept
Soon after, you were called to your
superiors and you were taken aback to ind
the same dark eyed stranger talking with
your master. Since then the dark eyed man
has become your new master, a man you
know as Lord Inquisitor Zerbe.
You have dark brown hair and wear brown
robes. You have a deep scar stretching across
your face that you received in your youth.
“Knowledge guides, it shows us the path in the
darkness.”
You don’t
remember if there
was ever peace on
your homeworld as
all you ever knew
was war. Born,
raised and survived
– that’s how you
think about it.
You were one of
the lucky few,
charmed some might say, to have survived
an upbringing in a warzone. Found as a
youngster amid the twisted wreckage of your
family’s home, the only survivor, you were
taken by the guardsmen to the refugee camp
where your quick wits and sharp memory
made you stand out from the crowd. Soon you
were apprenticed to scriveners, the Imperial
Adepts, who catalogue and ceaselessly record
the workings of the Imperium.
After ten years of toil, your ingers seemingly
forever stained by the endless mountains of ink
your work had consumed, you were seconded
to the Oficio Determinus Libratum deep
within the bowls of the faceless black-stoned
Administratum ofices. Here you were required
to catalogue, sort and fetch the thousands of
tomes of ancient lore for your masters. Despite
restrictions on what you could or could not
read, you could never resist taking a peek inside
the covers of the books. Whilst most seemed
nothing more than row upon rows of numbers
or names, some displayed weird characters and
talked of ancient things best left well alone. It
was whilst secretly reading one of these strange
black leather bound volumes, that you were
seized by a dark robed igure of sinister mien,
a man whose deep black eyes peered into yours
as if looking into your very soul. How long he
started into you, you cannot say, only that it
seemed a lifetime. Then he was gone, as silently
and swiftly as he had appeared.
Main Proile
WS BS S T Ag Int Per WP Fel
27 32 32 34 36 38 40 38 34
Movement:
4/8/12/24
Wounds:
10
Fate Points:
2
Skills:
Ciphers (Acolyte) (Int). Common
Lore (Administratum)(Int), Common Lore
(Imperium) (Int+10), Literacy (Int), Speak
Language (Low Gothic) (Int), Scholastic Lore
(Legend)(Int+10), Trade (Copyist) (Int).
Talents:
Light Sleeper, Pistol Training (SP),
Sprint.
Weapons:
Stub Revolver with 2 clips (Pistol [SP]; 30m;
RoF S/–/–; Damage: 1d10+2 I; Clip 6;
Reload 2 Full Actions).
Staff (Melee [Primitive]; Damage 1d10 I;
Primitive, Balanced [+10 Parry]).
Knife (Melee [Primitive]; Damage: 1d5 R;
Primitive).
Gear:
Administratum Robes (Common
Quality Clothing), Auto-Quill, Chrono,
Dataslate, Backpack.
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