Prex Precis: 3647bnf745/ Ψ-34swdg85-Χ 5hr64dje

Authorisation: ************/*******
Bio-Ident Required

Ident Confirmed…….
Processing…….
Thought For The Day: A Mind Without Purpose Will Wander In Dark Places

File Request: 3647bnf745…….

Sub-File: Ψ-34swdg85-Χ5hr64dje…….
Translating…….
Authorisation Requested…….
Processing…….
Clearance Level Omega Accepted…….
Translating…….
Translating…….
File Opening…….
 Welcome - Agent Detancore
Accessing Mission Data…
Loading…
Loading…
Loading…

Operation Verum Reproba.

Mission Data

Command Structure
Personal Briefing
Sister Superior Elaine Kanos

Personnel Files
Arch-Magos Lehron Nil

Sister Ilanna Sungale Detancore

Menoetius Joseph Altman Martin Crenshaw

Inquisitorial Agents
Azazeal
Kira Loque

Order of the
Ardent Blood
 Operation Verum Reproba
It has now been two terran standard years since Adeptus Astra Telepathica ship ‘Ampoliros’ failed to
re-establish long range communications following warp transit from the Crallus Sector. 6 scheduled
tithe collections have been missed and the vessel has now been officially logged as missing for 135
days.

Multiple sightings of the vessel have been logged with the Administrum from across the Imperium
however analysis suggests a number of these must be held with suspicion as a result of the vast
distances between sightings only weeks apart.

Decrypting
The Ampoliros has now been detected sat within the Xuízo system. The vessel appears to be adrift and
without power however what little information naval scans have been able to gather through the
vessel’s shielding are defying any sensible analysis.

Though highly dangerous a vessel of Ampolris’s class and role is highly valuable to the Imperium. A
Battlefleet vessel ‘His Divine Will’ (Dauntless Class) now sits ready to carry your party to investigate.

Objectives
Primary Objectives:
• Determine cause of lost contact.
• Establish whereabouts of Amoliros’s crew and cargo.
• Any and all identified threats to the mission are to be terminated with extreme prejudice.

Secondary Objectives:
• Reclaim Ampoliros.
• Bring vital systems back online.

Back
File Request: 3647bnf745 Secondary Rear Hanger...
Sub-File: Ψ-34swdg85-Χ 5hr64dje External Loading Port...
Translating……. Optimum Location for Insertion…
Authorisation Request…
Processing…
Clearance Level Omega Accepted…
Translating…
Translating…
File Open…

AMPOLIROS

….massive spatial /temporal

anomalies found throughout vessel...

Psyker Transit Pens…

Designation: Ampoliros Psy-Steel Construction…
Affiliation: Adeptus Astra Telapathica Transit Quantities; Classified
Launched: 589.M38
Class: Reassus
Registry: AAT3456 – 3445.2346h
Auxiliary craft: Last reported activity Crallus Sector 2.004.678.M41
5 - Arvus Shuttle Sightings Reported –
4 – Aquila Lander 3.165.678.M41- Daru Callus - Omtima (Merchant Vessel)
8 – Lighting Fighter 3.583.678.M41- Perrus Alpha - Sector Defence Station AXVII
Armaments: Classified (Level Magenta) 3.897.678.M41- Ercart IX -– Trader TaliLon Dekurt
Defenses: Classified (Level Magenta) 3.098.679.M41- Heretu – Dauntless Class ‘His Divine Will’ (Battlefleet Selta)
Crew Manifest: Classified (Level Magenta)
Duration / Distance analysis suggests disparity. Data questionable, Rate of
propulsion required for sighting verification exceeds that possible,

Back
On Behalf of the Scholastia Psykana, welcome Agent Detancore.

We trust that you have now had time to familiarise with the situation regarding Ampoliros but as
you might imagine the Adeptus itself has a number of concerns regarding the mission - not least in
relation to the external contingent of the boarding party. The Telepathica had hoped the Ampoliros
situation would remain in their hands however now that Inquisitorial and Sororitas agents are
involved we will be taking steps to safeguard our interests.

The Ampoliros serves as an example of the largest and most advanced ships of the Adeptus’s fleet.
She is an assets of incalculable worth to us and as a results we will not see her abandoned or
destroyed for the sake of protocol. All those who argue otherwise within your party must be
persuaded lest we loose a vessel of tremendous worth to superstation and idiocy. You and your
Telepathica allies are to ensure Ampoliros is not destroyed unless absolutely necessary.

Decrypting
The situation aboard Ampoliros has far wider reaching consequences than those you are aware,
Agents Nil and Crenshaw have been sent to peruse the needs of the Adeptus in this regard
however should your loyalties and commitment to the Adpetus be judged acceptable by agent Nil -
after so many years amongst the Inquisition- she has been given permission to inform you of their
task.

Primary Objectives:
• Prove your loyalty to the Adeptus and assist where ever possible Agent Nil and Colonel
Crenshaw.

Secondary Objective:
• Ensure those party members from external agencies to not destroy the ship unnecessarily.

Back
Name: Martin Crenshaw Suppression Shield
Gender: Male Power Maul Back
Age: 36 Bolt Pistol
Affiliation: Adeptus Astra Telepathica Combat Knife
Role: Security and Enforcement Carapace Armor (full) with helmet integrated rebreather
Height: 5’10 and targeter
Weight: 185lbs Flashbang, Smoke, and Choke Grenades
Augment Blank Limiter

Background: Martin Crenshaw came into his miserable existence under an inauspicious moon on the planet of Lucror IV, the renowned free
port of conspicuous consumption and crushing poverty, to a family of well enough prosperity and standing in the business of mercantile trade.
What should have been a life acceptable enough privilege or purpose was to be denied by his fundamental nature; the fact that Martin is a
blank, immune to any psychic abnormalities, yet an anathema to the rest of mankind. This included his own mother and father, who in loathing
for what they had ultimately produced, sought in any way to dispose of this presumed slight in any way as he grew. What might have been a
terminal disposal was avoided by the imminent arrival of a Black Ship, and the authorities need to provide abnormal samples for delivery.
Routine scanning of the petty nobilities’ households, in an attempt at spotting any undue psychic or demonic activity, indirectly revealed the
presence of Martin’s blank abilities. With a cull of psykers necessary and proper; and the coincidental need to prune the rising crop of lesser
nobility, the merchant oligarchy alerted the Adeptus Arbites to what they perceived to be a dangerously suspicious occurance in House
Crenshaw. While the Arbitrators were not oblivious to the constant scheming within the upper echelons of this society, after confirming the
presence of a blank, a raid on the house was enacted to be certain of what heresy lay within. In the aftermath the young Martin was found and
confirmed to be the source of the psychic null, and if anything, the victim of his own family. The surviving members of House Crenshaw were
more than willing to let this ill fated burden be taken away, not that the Arbites were offering any choice. Martin was remanded to the Adeptus
Astra Telepathica when their ship finally arrived.
Martin has since been trained and put to use since his childhood for the protection and prosecution of pyskers by the Adeptus. Blanks like
Martin are integrated into the handling detachments assigned to either Black Ships, Sanction Psyker units within the Imperial Guard, as well as
for the protection of the campus of the Scholastia Psykana itself. It is also not uncommon for blanks to be used in more clandestine operations.
Since coming into active duty Martin has primarily been detailed to the Black Ships and, as necessary, more discrete assignments for his
masters.

Appearance: Martin looks like a rather intimidating man, especially in the black and red leather duty uniform associated with the Telepathica
Security Detachment, which is appropriate. This is only enhanced when wearing his full carapace armor and personal weaponry, bulking up his
already formidable height and lean muscular build, and it’s designed to be that way. Martin doesn’t do much to deter this image with his
personal visage which, other than his cold blue eyes, is almost startlingly devoid of strong coloration. He has an extensive range of facial
expressions, specifically between deathly serious and scathingly contemptuous. The physical manifestation of Martin’s ability is an augmented
limiter implanted and networked around his throat and the back of his head.

Personality: Martin is a rather unpleasant individual, by and large. Plenty of the blame can be laid out on the fact that he is a psychic blank,
whose mere existence is considered loathsome by most, but that doesn’t excuse all of it. An entire lifetime of being either a victim or a
victimizer has worn its corrosive effect on Martin, wearing down any softer emotions and feelings, leaving a hardened and caustic human core.
This has actually been a benefit for his profession, which is to be the uncompromising enforcer, but leading to a lack of any greater social
compatibility. Often times Martin finds a way of saying just the wrong thing in just the right way as to not draw too severe a reprimand.
Name: Azazeal

Organisation: Ordo Hereticus (custodian)

Eyes: Dark

Hair: Dark

Appearance: Tall and solidly-built, with an

angular face and long hair (ponytailed)

Equipment: Garda pattern auto-shotgun, power knife,

psychic inhibitor, data slate, vox bead and Special
Circumstances rosette.

History: A tough and uncompromising individual, Azazeal was recruited by inquisitor Gideon Khadir for two reasons - firstly the
natural cunning of his feral world origins, and secondly the honour code of the same source that he was able to mould into an
unshakeable devotion to the inquisitorial creed. Azazeal coped better than most with the culture shock associated with
Imperial contact and he is now familiar with most Imperial customs and technologies, although he is still instinctively wary of
“witch” psykers. This suited inquisitor Khadir perfectly - as a member of the Ordo Hereticus, much of his work involved the
tracking, assessment, and, occasionally, purging of such individuals.

Khadir is well known for his preference of working with minimal outside support, and he has been working under Special
Circumstances jurisdiction for three years now, working in deep cover to root out heretics on Darius. However, the re-
emergence of a potentially compromised Black Ship is a far more serious matter, and Khadir has shifted his priorities
accordingly. Hearing of a Sororitas-led mission to investigate the ship, Khadir has dispatched one of his own sanctioned
psykers to assist his traditional allies.

As per standard Ordo Hereticus procedure, a sanctioned psyker in the field is required to have a custodian to watch over them.
To this end Azazeal has been sent along with her, and issued with a hexagrammic inhibitor - not enough to stop a powerful
psyker from brute-forcing their way into his mind, but sufficient to let him keep control of his faculties long enough to shoot
the offending psyker should such an event occur. Assuming it does not, the pair’s orders are relatively simple: observe.
Determine the status of the Ampoliros and its former cargo, and discover the reason for the ship’s disappearance.

Azazeal has an analytical mind and a habit of sizing up people for threat level (regardless of whether they are friend or foe) as
soon as he meets them. For a feral worlder, he is surprisingly eloquent, and despite his instinctive aversion to psykers he is
canny enough to understand that they can sometimes be useful rather than a threat - provided that they are properly
controlled of course. He should have little trouble working with the Telepathica team.

Back
Name: Kira Loque

Organisation: Ordo Hereticus (sanctioned psyker)

Eyes: Blue/green

Hair: Black

Appearance: Slender, with soft features offset

sharply by diamond-hard eyes and a cold demeanour

Equipment: Psyker, low zeta-level. She also

carries a vox bead and a Special Circumstances rosette.

History: Just one of thousands of mid-level psykers picked up by the Black Ships every year, Kira was set apart for inquisition
service by virtue of a singular force of will. This is not something she has always had - for many years she was afraid of her
powers, and only used them in desperation when a food riot spread through her home hive. This one manifestation was enough
to garner the attention of the local authorities, however, and she was handed over to the inquisition. The riot had left many of
Kira’s family and friends dead, and it was the resultant anger more than anything else that drove her to pass every test that
the instructors could throw at her, as if she was eager to earn a place in an organisation responsible for putting down such
rebellions. Other psykers have described her as a carefully-masked thundercloud.

Working for an establishment that casts perpetual suspicion on her kind has left Kira with a very guarded personality and an
aversion to letting her feelings show on her face, though her powers are no less potent because of this. She focuses her
abilities through a psychic familiar, which takes the form of a small snake and habitually stays coiled around her left arm.
Being essentially a partial manifestation of Kira’s mind, the familiar is quite animated and so one can often infer what Kira is
thinking despite her introvert nature, from the way her familiar reacts to other people’s words and actions.

Together with her “bodyguard”, Azazeal, she is under orders to assist the Imperial team and determine the state of affairs on
the Ampoliros, reporting their findings back to inquisitor Khadir as they go.

Back
Name: Joseph Altman
Hellgun
Gender: Male four hotshot packs
Stub pistol
Occupation: Inquisitorial Stormtrooper Veteran frag and krak grenades
combat knife.
Age: 32

Height: 6'3"

Weight: 225lbs

Homeworld: Doesn't Know, raised in the Schola on Piscina IV

Wargear: Carapace armor, fatigues and boots, Lho -Sticks, an old tattered book of Psalms, diary, locket with image of his mother, first aid kit

Psyker/Blank/Neither: Neither, but does suffer from abnormally high amoutns of visions of fallen comrades even after mind wiping.

Appearance: See Image. On second image, close idea of what Joseph looks like in full gear (Guy on the right).

Personality: Fairly average, nice and polite. Often often suffers from bouts of high stress and depression. Often blames himself for the deaths
of friends, and cares little about many menial things.

Background: Joseph never knew his father as he was killed before his birth, and the only memories of his mother are a few picts and a letter.
Raised in the Schola, Joseph was mostly a run of the mill trainee that showed nothing out of the ordinary. However, come his first several
engagements, Joseph had an odd luck at survival. For nine years he saw all of his old friends die and any new ones have the same fate. In the
back of his diary he has a list of the names of his comrades that he has served with, in which six pages of which are almost filled with names of
his fallen friends. Those same persons haunt him almost every night.

His unit was eventually recruited by an Inquisitor to help clean out a nest of Kroot, and from there has been in regular circulation with the
Inquisition. He has fought almost every enemy of mankind that can be classified as a living organism, and even some things that words cannot
describe.

For a man barely into his thirties, it has taken its toll. Joseph rarely attaches himself to anything anymore, except for the idea that he will be able
to find peace in this one day. However, that seems to be moving further away with each mission he is sent to.

Joseph had served on the Ampoliros for several years and was brought in as a "guide" to the ship for the investigation. He'll do his best, for what
it's worth. Better than working for the Ordo Malleus.

Back
Order of the Ardent Blood:
Parent Order Majoris: Argent Shroud.
Uniform: Polished Steel, Brass fittings, Sable Garments.
Heraldry: Blood Drop wreathed in flame.
Sister Commanding: Cannoness Genise Crownsilver (Redhead, bookish, spends most of her time in the Convent. On the Battlefield she is a
pyromaniac, has numerous Promethium vents built into her armour)
Convent-Base: Tyrenea. Third planet in the Pathis system. Ultima Segmentum.

Origins: Characterised by an intemperate zeal, a fiery passion to root out and destroy the enemies of the Emperor over and above that expected
from a Sisterhood already considered unmatched in their fervor for the Imperial Creed, the Order of the Ardent Blood finds its origins in the Legend
of St Alaisdair. A simple lay-preacher tending a small flock on the Agri-World of Tyrenea. As records describing the events leading to his
Canonisation assembled in 3248119 M38 indicate, the planet was pressed hard by Daemonic Incursion. The scattered communities pushed back to
the handful of polar fortress cities, or simply exterminatetd by the gibbering hordes roaming the spoiled fields. Visiting the front to tend to the
spirits of the stalwart agrarian militia daring insanity to protect those within the walls, the priest found himself caught in the trenches as a fresh
wave of hellspawn threw themselves against the defenders. A staff in one hand, for he was greatly advanced in years, he braved the fury of battle,
walking the trenches, bellowing prayers to the Emperor, exhorting the defenders to greater acts of courage in the Emperor's name. Putting forth his
own hand to the battle where the line was hard pressed.

As day pressed on to night, and his flesh begin to fail him while his spirit remained undimmed, the axe of a Bloodletter split his arm open, shoulder
to wrist. Cast back by some invisible force, the daemon was quickly torn apart in a hail of Lasgun fire. Yet no following daemon took it's place on the
line. Where the priest's blood stained the ashen ground, no daemon dared tread. As dawn followed after long night, the Daemons withdrew to lick
their wounds. There would be no such

Background
rest for the defenders, their strength and their spirit almost spent. Yet with the suns first rays, exhausted citizen and soldier alike looked up to see
one old man clamber stiffly from the trenches. His staff gripped firmly in one hand, his ruined arm hung limply at his side, he began to shuffle
painfully around the edge of the firebase he had climbed from, the blood seeping from his open wounds spattering freely on the thirsty ground.
Thrice in that first hour he beat off medicae wanting to tend to his wounds, soldiers entreating him to return to the relative safety of the trench. For
three days he walked the outer edge of the cities defences. For three days his wound bled uncesingly. For three days, no daemon passed within
sight. For three days, news trickled in of city after city falling to the onslaught. At Sunset on the third day, the Saint fell on his knees before the city
gates and uttered with his dying breath, a prayer to the Emperor and spoke a benediction to preserve those gates from the wrath of her enemies.

By Midnight, the bastion was ringed once more by daemons, howling their blasphemies, in a frenzy of bloodlust, for little did the defenders know,
their time had failed. The Warp Rift sustaining them had burnt itself out. Yet for all their fury, the hallowed ground on which the holy man had spilt
his blood would not abide them. They screamed, they bellowed, a tempest of fury vainly circling the city. By morning, their force spent, drawn
screaming back into the warp, all that remained of the Daemons was a foul smelling fog and a fine coating of sulpher on the soiled lands round
about.

On the lands within that blessed perimeter, faith in the Emperor skyrocketed, and in the years following, a massive cathedral was erected on the
sight of the original bastion, supplemented scant decades later by a Convent of the Adepta Sororitas, the newly founded Order of the Ardent Blood.
Some whispered in dark corners that they were planted there purely to be a watchdog for signs of corruption among the population as they sought
to reclaim their world. Though two millenia later, the community of sisters is still there, still honouring the Saint from whose actions they draw their
name.

Relevant Traditions:
In the early days of the 41st Millenium, a passing Black Ship requested aid from the Convent with a world that had proven unwilling to give up its
nascent psykers the previous generation. Inflamed by this perfidy, the Cannoness emptied the halls of her convent, keeping back only a token
number of sisters to guard its walls. Sending her warriors forth against the witches that would withold him his dues, they fell upon that world with a
fury the defenders could not hope to match. Yet the rebellion had had nearly a hundred years to bury itself within the very roots of the world.
Untrained psykers, daemonhosts, even the planetary defence force resisted them at every turn, the sisters facing a task suited for a force greater
than twice their numbers. Many sisters were martyred along the blood-paved road to submission. The only survivors as regiments of the Imperial
Guard were marched in to complete the pacification, two battle sisters and the Captain of the Palatine's bodyguard.

Returned to the Convent in the bowels of a transport ship whose walls had once shook to the sound of prayers sung in the Emperors name, the
mournful echoes of three wounded traversing the empty space testament to the scale of the loss. At their return, and the news of the fate of her
warriors, the Cannoness mood was blacker than the ships that had stolen them away. Her faith in the Emperor was unbroken, yet her faith in his
servants was wounded beyond measure. In her own blood she scribed in the records of the Order that no request for aid from the Adeptus Astra
Telepathica would ever be met with more than that which they had returned to her. Three Battle Sisters and the spirits of the dead.

Back
Name: Ilanna Sungale
(picked up the nick-name 'Sunshine'
from a Deacon-sergeant at the Schola
and has found it impossible to be rid of)
Age: 23
Gender: Female
Class: Junior Battle-Sister
Height: 5'7 (6'00 in armour)

Appearance: Visually distinctive, she looks like, over a couple generations or so, someone took two or three ethnicities and mushed them together
into one person. (Pretty much how I imagine most Terran natives looking post-unification wars). Most noticeable feature is her eyes. They are big,
expressive and constantly widened in OCD panic, and an incredibly vivid shade of green. Her hair is an unremarkable shade of brown, it is wavy and
unruly and refues to sit tidily no matter what she does with it. She has somewhat consistently faded, relatively old, superficial scarring everywhere.
Power Armour makes her look bulkier than she is, physically she is quite willowy and delicate.

Wargear:
Sororitas Issue Power Armour, Sabbat Pattern Helm, Godwyn-Diaz pattern Bolter (Sickle-mag configuration), Chainsword (with fitting for
Exterminator cartridges), Frag/Krak Grenades, Exterminator Cartridges.

Personality:
Deeply Traumatized. It affects her in everything she does. She is overly shy, quiet, with a tendency to stammer when she is nervous (so most of the
time) and suffers from OCD. She has almost no memory of her childhood due to post-trauma. In her opinion, she is flawed, and she is broken. A poor
excuse for a person.

She is a very good Battle Sister.

She is a member of the Adepta Sororitas, not a Bishop. A weapon. Weapons don't have to be people.

Ilanna becomes increasingly 'Northern' as her temper breaks. She learnt most of her Gothic from the thickly accented dialect of the Darrow
Highlanders, and still finds it the best language for cursing in. Most of the time she very carefully has no accent at all.

Among her sisters in the Order of the Ardent Blood, she is somewhat of a pariah. Lacking in their fire and passion, her devotion to duty is one of
concious decision, of logic and single-minded determination. This leaves her slower to jump to conclusions than her more impetuous comrades, and
has lead to more than one case of punitary measures for speaking out against a percieved injustice. Of course, her cripplingly low self esteem leads
her to believe thee conflicts in viewpoint are caused by some flaw in her.

Background
Background:
Born the eldest and only daughter of a Captain of the 19th Terran Praefects, and the child of a son of Holy Terra herself, Ilanna was born in the void
between stars aboard the transport vessel Triumph of Terra. Raised among the Officer's quarters of some of the most prestigious regiments in the
Imperium, she wanted for little. All that was to change however when, while she was barely a teenager, disaster struck. Crushed and routed in open
battle against the Orks in the Thardis Salient, the brittle Imperial spearhead was shattered and hurled back in disarray, the greenskins taking
advantage of the chaos to counterattack along the entire battlefront, driving the Imperial forces back eventually to the upper tiers of the great hives
themselves, in one of the biggest military disasters in sector history. One that led to the world being abandoned, subject to a thirty year orbital
siege.

Caught up in the panic and chaos of the general retreat, shot and shell from every side falling among them as the mingled host, front line soldier
and rear echelon dependant, lost, traumatised and demoralised fled for their lives. Staggering out of the firestorm, starving, exhausted and alone,
bleeding from dozens of flesh wounds, shards of glass and shrapnel still embedded in her skin, Ilanna was among those lucky to escape to the
safety of a dropship bound for high orbit before the battlezone was bombarded by ship-borne macro-cannon to halt the enemies advance. Bundled
into a single, cavernous holding bay along with the over survivors of the disaster while the Munitorum clerks traversed the Gordian Knot of
paperwork to determine exactly who was left in their ships, and what their fate was to be. This impossible task was to take a number of years,
which Ilanna spent tended to by a medic of the Darrow Highlanders, learning such things as how to be a real person (sort of) instead of an
emotional, fragile ball of post-trauma, as well as repairing her now near non-existent language skills, though in the thickly accented low-gothic of his
homeworld.

When her prestigious heritage, and the establishment of the time of her father's death in battle taking place before the formally declared point the
rout had begun, was discovered, the young Ilanna was whisked away to the Schola Progenium, and from there to the Convent Prioris of the Adepta
Sororitas on Holy Terra itself, where they started by teaching her Gothic again, without quite so many apostrophies, as well as the official Nine
Hundred Ways To Burn A Heretic. The fate of her mother was never discovered.

Her novitiate was not a straightforward one. She was not the most physically powerful of novices, not the most bombastic, the most zealous. Even
in the Shadow of the Palace itself, she approached her faith skeptically, questioned constantly, researched extensively, contemplated deeply and
logically - and still decided it was something she could believe in and wanted to live by. No mere blind zealotry, that engenders the kind of
unflinching faith that shakes mountains and remains unbroken by the greatest of evils.

Upon her ordainment as a fully fledged Battle Sister, in response to a thousand year old clerical error, still listing the Order of the Ardent Blood as
being in a period of dire need of sisters to rebuild their ranks. Fully one tenth of the graduating novices were shipped to the Pathis system, Ilanna
among them.

Back
Name: Sister Superior Elaine Kanos

Age: 35

Gender: Female

Rank: Sister Superior

Order: Ardent Blood

Appearence: Elaine is about 5'11", but appears significantly taller in

power armour. She has short cut black hair, and, when not in power
armour, she can be clearly seen to have the physice of someone
who has undertaken and continues to undertake significant physical
training.

Equipment:
Sororites Power Armour
Bolt Gun
Hand Flamer
and Witch Lance spear

Background: Elaine's history is typical of many Sisters. She was

orphaned at a very young age, earlier then she can remember. As a
result, she grew up with no knowladge of any life but that of the
Schola Progenium. With no alternative, she quickly became adapted
to such a strict life of learning and training, and passed through the
program with above average, if not exceptional results.

It was no surprise to anyone that she was then elevated into the
Adeptus Sororites, where she was deemed capable enough to have
the honour of being a battle sister. From there, she continued to
train and study vigorously, as well as to fight in several battles in
which the order was involved, until ultimatly attaining the rank of

Sister Superior.

Back
Name: Lehron
Age:535 (Aprox.)
Gender: Male Back
Rank: Arch Magos
(Captain of the Ommisiah's Bounty)

Appearance: Highly mechanized, only small portions of his torso and face remain. Due to a catastrophic accident he lost most his limbs only to
have them replaced. His legs now end in stumps that emit a constant anti gravity field allowing him to float through the air hovering about a foot
above the ground. The remainder of his body is usually hidden beneath a cloak.

Weapons+ Equipment:
Plasma Cutter mounted on the end of a mechadendrite
3 Other mechadendrites, each ending with various tools.
Power Axe

Background: Lehron was born to one of the various crewmen who served aboard the Bounty. From an early age he showed much promise and
eventually caught the eye of one of the many tech priests on the ship, under their instruction he entered the world of the mechanicum at the age of
six and by the age of 20 took the rites and became a full tech priest. From then on he learned of the dangerous political game that took place on
the ship. Slowly and maliciously he slowly rose through the ranks, an assassination here, an 'accident' there and Lehron was soon vying to become
the Archmagos and Captain of the Bounty. And attain that position he would, at a cost. While working on a pair of plasma reactors they overloaded
almost bringing him within an inch of death. However he quickly recovered and within a month he went on a vicious killing spree ending with him
as the sole ranking tech priest and defacto Captain of the ship. For the next three hundred years the tech priest plied the stars searching for
archeotech to recover and new technologies to salvage, all the while ensuring that his position remained stable at the top.

It was on the dead tomb word Cryus XI the Lehron would have his faith shaken and beliefs changed forever. Here he searched the ancient necron
tombs and the technological marvels the xenos could achieve put him in awe. But it was what the ancient glyphs and texts he found on the walls
that changed him forever. He saw the truth and the grand lie that bound the mechanicum to the imperium. Despite this he realized that his
revelation would destroy humanity and kept it a secret destroying the tomb from orbit upon returning to the ship, but not before salvaging
numerous pieces of necron technology to experiment with and examine.

From that moment on Lehron abandoned his duties aboard the Bounty leaving the his position to one of his most trusted adepts knowing that
should he return it would not be an issue to resume command. Since then he has trecked from forgeworld to forgeworld as a prophet spreading the
truth to a select few he deems worthy. In addition he takes on jobs involving exploration and salvage in the hopes of finding some new toy or piece
of technology.
Name Menoetius

Age 327

Gender Unknown

Class Skitarii Hunter/Killer

Height Seven and a half feet if standing fully erect alought with its hunch Menortius is just over six feet tall

Weight Approximately four hundred pounds

Appearance A hulking amalgamation of weapons, munitions, armor plates, and wires. A Red leather drapery covers its back and its stump-like
head protrudes juttingly with a collection of glowing optical lenses.

Wargear
+60% of Menoetius' body is covered in contoured Ceramic plates painted in a matte black Nitrate enriched coating. The other 40% is covered in
polished plasteel.

+Left Arm:
++Bismuth Plated Servo Claw. This beastly claw, crafted to look like the talon of an eagle, is plated in glistening Bismuth. While it does not have a
power field the pistons powering it can generate a tremendous amount of crushing power the the claws themselves are razor sharp
++Wrist mounted tandem bolt guns with dual ammunition feeds. A pair of bolt guns have been grafted into Menoetius' left forearm. They are
integral with it's body and the ammunition feeds are stored in the bicep. Menotius can alternate between standard bolts and metal storm
fragmentation rounds to close quarters work.

+Right arm:
++Retractable chain blade. This weapon is stored in Menoetius' right forearm and can swing out into an ideal slashing position.
++Palm mounted Inferno Pistol. Menoetius' palm separated to reveal the emitter tip of an Interno Pistol. The weapon itself is powered by its Atomic
Heart.

+Menoetius has a collection of twelve manipulator tendrils as manipulating small objects can be difficult. These are store in spools on its back
beneath the leather drapery.

+Geometric Cogitator Engine. In addition to the standard optical suite Menoetius' standard cogitator has been replaced with a Geomentric
processing unit. This allows it to not process still images through its vision can instead to calculate and preceive full three dimension renderings
within its cybernetic mind. This translates into improved spacial awareness, reaction time, and the ability to generate better tactics. The data can
also be offloaded into a holo-projector so that Menoetius' visions and thoughts can be analysed by others.

Background
Background: Three centuries ago Menotius was a convicted fellon. The thought and memory still presists in the shreads of organic brain left within
its metal plated cranium. There is no name, no gender, and no self. Only the sense that at one time, long ago, there was a need for salvation. The
person that once was was granted salvation and absolution through metal. The flesh was stripped away and replaced with vat grown tissue and
steel. As time soldiered on more upgrades were bestowed, more organic brain was removed and new limbs attached. Armor plating replaced
muscle and skin. All shreads of what it a person was taken away and IT became Menoetius, a Hunter/Killer of the Adeptus Mechanicus Skitarii
legions.

An assassin, a shock trooper, Menoetius was forged to kill and annihilate with all the remorse of a bone saw. It approached its targets with the same
attitude that a surgeon would approach of cancer. They were simply things to be removed. Menoetius was not one to question why or who they
were, simply to know that their elimination would benefit the Mechanicum as a whole.

Menoetius changed hands over the decades of service. First in the rank and file legions as a shock trooper, with others of its kind and then in the
private service of a Magos as a bodyguard. From there it found its way into the possession of an Imperial General before being gifted to Inquisitor
Imelia Judith Ulkaret.

For a radical Inquisitor a being such as Menoetius is ideal. It executes its orders and defends its master to the exclusion of all else. It does not
question the nature of the work or the status of the targets. It does not feel pain. As far as it is concerned the Inquisitior's word is law and it need
not concern itself with the worries and wants of others beyond what benefits the mission. Menoetius has limited cognitive ability and is self aware
although due to the three centuries as a machine and the fact that only organic tissue that remains are a few patches of brian matter its sense of
the human condition and emotions are very limited. Its vocal processor can generate a range of tones to convey inquisitive or aggressive
statements, giving it the capacity to converse with other humans to some degree although the quality of conversation is generally quite poor.

Back
Name: Nil
Age: 29
Height: 5’ 6”
Gender: Female

Appearance: Short and slight, Nil could easily be described as waifish were it not for the athleticism of her frame. Thanks to years cloistered away
from the sun, Nil’s skin is deathly pale - when combined with her black hair and thin, almost fragile-looking face, her true appearance is almost as
eerie as the masked skull-helm she normally presents to the world.

Personality: When at rest, Nil is a vague thing, seemingly vacant and disconnected from the world and people around her. Though she feels
emotions like any other person, they come distantly - as if filtered through dozens of layers of gauze, indistinct feelings she struggles to grasp and
comprehend. The only emotion Nil truly seems to understand is curiosity, but aware that her lack of social graces and the necessity of maintaining
her deception as a true Culexus prevent her from acting on her desire for knowledge and understanding. Though her operators remain unaware
such feelings, Nil has been questioning her status as a Pariah - wondering whether she is in fact a real person, and what that might mean. As of yet
such thoughts are limited to philosophical ponderings.

Pariah: Nil is a Pariah. Though she wears a limiter, being around her can make people uneasy and prone to disliking her, and Psykers immediately
revolted by hre presence. When the limiter is removed, however, Nil is akin to a black hole, deadening Psychic activity, inspiring utter terror in
Psykers and fear in others. Her Pariah nature can be wielded as a weapon - when the limiter is deactivated, Nil can drain the life out of any Psyker
she makes skin-to-skin contact with, reducing them to ashen husks.

Equipment:
Helm: Designed to mirror the appearance of the Culexus Assassins, Nil’s large, ominous helm contains a number of built-in systems.
--Etheric Reader. An arcane scanning device able to detect and alert the wearer to local spikes in warp-energy, such as when a psyker is drawing on
their abilities.
--MIU Plasma Pistol. Built to resemble the Animus Specularum, fired via a neural link. Includes redundant heatsinks to reduce the risk of a
catastrophic overheat.
--Etherium. Other than the Etheric Reader, this is only genuine bit of equipment used by a real Culexus. The Etherium induces fear and confusion in
everyone nearby. When activated and combined with Nil’s innate abilities, the dual effects can be crippling.
Bodyglove: A matte black skin-tight suit that covers Nil’s entire body other than her fingertips up to the neck.
Limiter: Taking the form of a seemingly innocuous bracelet around the wrist, when active this device limit’s the worst effects of Nil’s Pariah nature.
Monosword: A collapsible blade honed to a monomolecular edge, that folds down on itself to be stored within a module worn on the lower arm and
can be deployed with a swift flick of the wrist.

Background
History: Nil has memories. She remembers an Agri-world so small and meaningless it was catalogued with a number, not a name. She remembers
the small, rustic house she was born and grew up in, being watched over and cared for by friends and family who never quite seemed to look her in
the eye, and who punished her misdeeds a little more harshly than they did her siblings. She remembers the day that the ships of the Inquisition
blackened the sky and carried her away, into the cold metal laboratories and genetum-holds, to be examined and graded and trained.

These memories are false. Nil was not the product of a union between man and woman, but between Vitae-womb and artificial insemination,
brought into the world through banned science and forbidden understanding. The end result of over a century of crossbreeding and genetic
tampering, to try and create a stable process of manufacturing Pariahs; soulless individuals able to drain the life from a Psyker, deaden the warp,
and drive men mad with their mere presence. A rare commodity in the Imperium, but a powerful one, and a great tool in the war against Chaos.
And so, a small group of radical Inquisitors gathered sects of exiled Techpriests and Hereteks, scoured the galaxy for a clutch of Pariahs, and began
to experiment, trying to seek out a reliable way of ensuring children born would have the illusive Pariah Gene.

The researches eventually bore fruit. After 107 years of failures and setbacks, one Vitae-womb successfully generated sextuplets. Six identical
sisters, each one a fully-fledged Pariah. The Inquisitors called upon favours they were owed, and soon, the Pariah-sisters were being trained by a
group of Death Cultists drawn from half a dozen sources - the Mortait among them. The training was brutal and harsh, slowly honing each child into
a lethal killing machine. Only when all six had been judged ready were they instructed to kill their trainers to prevent any information of the project
escaping when the Cultists departed. This they did, as a final test, before being presented with their arms and armour.

Pariahs are a rare thing. Pariahs with the physical and mental training to survive the rigours of life as a Temple Assassin less so. That was the
purpose of the girls. They were to be replica Culexus Assassins, equipped to look and fight like them, but could be deployed without the High Lords
of Terra and the Culexus temple itself sanctioning the action. Though their equipment and their training would always be a shadow of the true
Culexi, it was considered a worthwhile sacrifice to have such a team at their disposal. And for years, that was Nil’s life - long periods of empty
training and meditation, interspaced with short bursts of terrible carnage as she and her Sisters were sent to combat rogue Psykers, heretic
Sorcerers, Daemonhosts, possessed machinery, and other such warp-tainted foes.

Of late, there are signs that Nil’s mental programming is beginning to fray. Combating a Tzeentchain cult, the Arch-heretic managed to unleash a
mental assault that, were it not for the suppressive effect of the Pariah Gene, would have blasted the assassin’s mind with horrific, mind-shattering
truths and driven her utterly insane in a moment. Dampened and nullified, it instead picked and wore at the false memories buried into her sub
consciousness, leaving her open to doubt and fear - even though she remained unable to actually understand what such new emotions meant. It
was the effect of these newfound emotions that caused her to hide them from her superiors, unsure of the consequences of such things.
Regardless, like all of her sisters, Nil maintained a near-perfect success rate for her missions, and the cabal of Inquisitors began to wonder if they
might take their research to the wider Imperium, convinced they would see the positive results and legitimise the means used.

The recent emergence of the Ampoliros presented them with an opportunity for a final test. Nil was selected at random to be placed into a team of
individuals send to investigate and assess the hulk. Communications were intercepted, requests falsified and messages twisted until any Adept who
followed the data trail would see all the proper evidence for the Adeptus Astrotelepathica having successfully petitioned the High Lords of Terra to
grant them a single Culexus assassin to aid the destruction of any lingering psykers or warp-entities lurking aboard.

Back
Name: Christoph Detancore
Gender: Male
Rank: Primaris Psyker
Age: 35
Homeworld: Unknown

Psyker (Beta grade, telepath and telekine)

Wargear: hand and a half, single edged Force Sword,

flak great coat, Stormchild pattern hand cannon.
A psykana mercy blade is kept in a scabbard on his belt.

Appearance: Cristoph is dark skinned, lanky and drawn, with bloodshot eyes and raven black hair kept in intricate dreadlocks to cover his psy
boosting plugs and scars from his sanctioning. He normally wears a flak storm coat with a high collar, with heavy, water proof boots and
comfortable trousers and a shirt. His belt has ammunition for his hand gun, several flavours of painkiller and psy-dampening or psy-boosting drugs,
allowing him to boost or dull his powers as appropriate.

Personality: As a powerful telekinetic and relatively skilled telepath, Cristoph combines a forceful personality with a poor view of everyone around
him, convinced he knows exactly how bad his fellow humans are. Unfortunately, his time in the inquisition hasn't really convinced him he is wrong,
and he sees no reason to change his acrid and abrasive attitude now. Not much more than a psychic weapon in an Inquisitors hand, He enjoys
working and being active, whether that’s carving through a heretic cult or picking through a recidivists brain. when he has time of he spends it
honing his melee skills or exercising his mental powers.

Background: Christoph remembers only the vaguest hints of his home world: sea spray, spices, incense and sweat are really all he can recall before
he was swept up by an inquisitorial sweep and deposited into a black ships hold. Taken as a toddler, he reached Terra before his tenth birthday and
was selected almost immediately for psykana templaris training and indoctrination. His talents and aptitudes saw him singled out for extensive
training after he survived sanctioning, and he was almost immediately snapped up by the Inquisition for his array of useful skills. Serving the
Emperor is really all he knows, and he cherishes the time he spent working on many cases. They stop him sleeping, thinking about the things he
has seen, and contemplating exactly what his future holds. His success in several cases was noted by his direct superiors in the Scholastica
Psykana, and he was removed from inquisitorial service to undergo the rites of the Primaris psyker. New to the rank and hardened to many of the
terrors of the galaxy, Cristoph was a natural choice for insertion when the Ampiloros appeared, adrift and not answering hails.

Powers: Cristoph is a strong Telekinetic with a combat focus, able to hurl people or yank them out of cover, toss around heavy crates and other
wise cause mischief and mayhem. His reflexes don't yet extend to him being able to catch or stop bullets, though he can project a powerful
defensive telekinetic field (he still prefers some nice heavy cover) His telepathy is only useful for interrogation currently: with physical contact he
can worm his way through a subjects brain and dig out all sorts of useful information, though the process is excruciating for the subject and
exhausting for Christoph. At a distance he can pick up peoples surface thoughts, and often turn that into a crude radar effect, but its not accurate
or even pleasant to use in a large group of people or a gunfight.

Back