Nettor Uthos

[Kaiser Willy]

Name: Nettor Uthos.
Gender: Male

Age: 22

Height: 6”2

Weight: 137 lbs

Born: Kaivahr, tempestus

Regiment: Cadian

Rank: lance corporal operator

Training: Trained under his father from birth before being given standard imperial training for a sentinel pilot

History: born in a security instillation on the forge world of Kaivahr to a guard Sargent, Nettor’s life centered around two things. The guard, and Machines. The first of which is entirely because of his upbringing. He was entirely taken care of by his father, Sargent Jacob Uthos, though a liberal definition of “care” must be used. He was treated from the second he could go without having his dipper changed as, in his fathers words, “just another guardsman, except they let me keep beating this one into shape during meals and sleep”. His real passion though was the machines that constantly surrounded him. In his precious few seconds of recreation, he would stare in wonder at the great engines that drove the emperor’s war machine, and even tinker with the dropped scrap he would occasionally come across. At his 12 birthday, he requested to be allowed to join the adeptus mechanicus. This request was met with a sharp backhand, spit to the eye, and a ticket off world to the nearest training center. His father reasoned “the tin heads must have been coddling him! Trying to get him to abandon ranks and join them! If it’ll take actual warfare to get stupid ideas like that out of the little puke’s head, then I say put him on the front lines! That’ll teach the bratty little slacker! Put some hair on his chest!”. During his formal training, he quickly learned the intricacies of the mechanized branches and searched out a carrier, where he got himself positioned in a sentinel squadron. He was at his happiest here, those around him claiming he was quite, even for a sentinel pilot, but surprisingly eager and cheerful once people had gotten to know him, especially when in his sentinel “daisy”. This, however, quickly changed when his unit was given its first comand. They were posted on a backwater jungle world with rumors of Tyranids. He and five other sentinels were simply supposed to explore a few miles away from base and report back at the first sign of trouble. However, the number of xenos on the planet had been grossly underestimated, and his squadron was ambushed by a tidal wave of them. Netto himself was swallowed hole along with his Sentinel by a particularly gargantuan brood mother and was presumed dead, until two days later during a vicious battle with the Tyranids he was discoverd, malnourished, petrified with terror, and with some hundreds of larvae clinging to him, but alive in the cheek of the slain brood mother, clinging for dear life to what was left of his sentenel. Somehow the chassis had gotten itself wedged in the monster’s teeth enough to remain there for the two days and had provided just enough protection to keep the saliva from completely melting him. It quickly became obvious though that he was definitely not unharmed mentally. He continued to cling so desperately to the controls after being rescued, that they had to simply pull the joysticks from the rest of the dilapidated wreck and let him clutch them on the ride back to base. Once inside the transport he seemed to calm down ever so slightly, and it was found while he was in the infirmary that he could be calmed further by letting him watch the medical servitor. Even after treatment though he was still on a razors edge, jittering and jumping in terror from the slightest insect, especially when away from machines. The only time he seemed to truly relax was when he was near a sentinel. He would run up and hug the machines, referring to them as “daisy girl” and talking to them as if they were a childhood pet. Worried that he was no longer fit for duty, his commander tested him rigorously and was pleasantly surprised to find that he was still an adept pilot, and that he seemed to almost return to normal when actually inside a sentinel. Reasoning that “just because he can’t fight ‘nids doesn’t mean he should up and stop fighting!”, the commander had him transferred off-world, where he continues to fight for the Emporer and, as he puts it, “my beautiful little daisy girl”.

Likes: machines, particularly sentinels. The adeptus mechanicus. Reading vehicle driving manuals.

Hates: tyrinids, to the point of crying and curling up in a ball at the sight of a large-ish bug.

Belongings:
Standard issue equipment, some spare and discarded parts he collects, and the joysticks from his original sentinel.

High Concept: Love for machines

A Trouble: Panics when away from machines.

An Aspect: near mechanicus amounts of knowledge of mechanical workings

Careful: 3
Clever: 2
Flashy: 1
Forceful: 0
Quick: 2
Sneaky: 1