Hobbsy's contribution.

Character sheets
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Postby Hobbsy » Wed Mar 15, 2017 4:43 am

Since I have already got two character threads, I've decide to put any new character I create in this threat to save space. Don't worry, I'm not going to go crazy and try to over populated the base, I'll only have a few characters and only add to it if one happens to met there end... hopefully not though. :shock:
Last edited by Hobbsy on Tue Oct 10, 2017 7:26 pm, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Hobbsy » Fri Mar 17, 2017 4:44 am

Confessor Von Smit

Name: Kibby Von Smit
Gender: Male
Age: 56
Height: 5'3"
Weight: 191 lbs
Notes: Limp in left leg, weaker right eye (glasses nullifies problem), can come across as creepy...
Regiment: Not yet assigned ( previously attached to Inquisitor ++classified++ of the Ordo ++classified++).
Born: Unknown
Training: St. Josef's Shrine of the lost and found.
General appearance: Kibby is a short man who walks with a very obvious limp in his left leg, which always appears to be as stiff as a plank of wood. This and the fact that he stands bolt up right when he stands and hunches a little when he walks causes many to see him as being both sinister and creepy. This is not help by his piercing stare from behind his large octagon glasses and the large smile he gives which makes him squint. Although his rounded face gives the impression that he is a little over weight, those who have seen him outside his robes would be surprised to see he is actually of a more solid build. His hair is heavily greying with hints of once being key black at the roots, evenly growing up and outwards in an almost waved pattern. He tents to prefer to wear simple robes instead of the usual decadent attire of a confessor.

History: No one is quite sure where Von Smit came from, let allow the actual reason he was left on the door step of St. Josef shrine on the planet of Alve. Whether he was an offering to the Emperor from a pilgrim or simple an unwanted child of a noble (to which the name on his basket possibly hinted at), it is of no real importance. As he grew up within the halls of the shrine, Von Smit proved to have an insatiable appetite for the truth, especially with those around him at any given time. This would become his true motivation in life and in service to the Emperor. Once he had finished his studies in his thirties, he was enlisted into the Inquisition under++

++Warning, information has been deemed classified under his most Holy Emperor's Inquisition++

++after which he was promoted to the position of Confessor, to both the horror and disbelief of many. It was unexpected to say the least and lead to many holding a grudge against him, including his superiors. Because of this he was sent out to the far fringes of the imperium to spread the Emperor's light and safe guard his servants from the lures of heretics and heathens.

He has recently arrived on Naris after hearing of the situation.

Friends:All loyal subjects of the Emperor, especially those who have anything of interest to share.

Enemies:Heretics, heathens, the blasphemous and all the other wrench who casts any form of slur on the Emperor.

+Two simple grey robe for most situations.
+White vestments for Masses (including pointy hat).
+One nice red uniform as a memento of his time with the Inquisition.
+Several disguises, more mementos from his time with the Inquisition.
+octagon glasses.
+Multiple Rosarius and Apuila badges and necklaces.
+Multiple purity seals.
+Confessor's Kane.
+Helmet with special Inquisition spy googles attached.
+Flak chest plat.
+Personal Eviscerator with cleaning and repair kit.
+Large book hand writen by Kibby: Full with sermons, Masses, quotes, dogma, study notes and at a special section on men and women who have died in the service of the Emperor so that they may be remembered for there acts and avenged for there sacrifice.
+Relics and a lot of holy water!
+Full kit box for Mass in the field.

High concept: No one expects the Imperial Inquisition!?!

Trouble: Everyone has a secret to tell..

Aspect: Obtaining the true by every possible means!

Careful || +1
Clever || +1
Flashy || +2
Forceful || +2
Quick || +0
Sneaky || +3

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Postby Hobbsy » Sat Apr 01, 2017 7:27 pm

Kibby Von Smit.

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Postby Hobbsy » Mon Jul 10, 2017 6:59 am

Cpl Paxton Moroz

Name: Paxton Zaamurets Moroz
Nickname(s): Papa Moroz (also cuddle bear, but no one uses it any more).
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 351 lbs
Notes: Large in build, non sanctioned hair style (overgrown beard and dreadlocks), multiple scars to the upper torso.
Regiment: 52nd Valhallan Ice Warriors -"DOT" "Department of Transportation"
Born: Valhalla, Pskov Cavern Medical
Training: Pskov Glorious People's Academy for Valhalla
General appearance: Paxton wears a standard Valhallan 52nd uniform and equipment and would appear as any of the other Valhallans on base. That is if you ignore the great big bush beard, the mess of dreadlocks which reach halfway down his back and the fact that he is a towering bear of a man. Although his appearance can be quite daunting at fist, his personality is that of a gentle and caring soul with a love for the simple pleasures in life. Though in light of recent events (refer to history below) his mood has become a lot more sombre, even to the point of depression.

History:Paxton Mozoz spent his early years on his home world of Valhalla before being enrolled in the guard and subsequently deployed to Rotorium IV with the Valhallan 374th. For nine years on the white, crater marked landscape of Rotorium IV, the Valhallans fought a continuous rear guard action against the ork forces of WAAAGH Dakka'ead which had overwhelmed Rotorium III. Throughout the campaign Paxon became a key figure about the regiment. Known not only for his exceptional ability to drive any vehicle the planet had to offer, but also his creative nature with carpentry and spray art. He also earned the nickname 'papa Moroz' from the troops who cherished his caring and supportive nature and his willingness to risk his life to save those in danger.

After Rotorium VI fell, the remnant of the 374th were collapsed into the 52nd "DOT" regiment before arrival on Valmaria. At first Paxon served with distinction as he inspired those around him with his ability to find the simple joys even in the darkest of times, but has recently suffered a breakdown which he has not full recovered from yet. At first he became incapacitated by illness and was no longer fit for service. The medical staff put it down to being more of a psychological blow to his being than an actual physical illness which had laid him low. After a week he had recovered enough to serve once more, but since then has been charged several times, all of which has involved some kind of physical harassment of members of the 584th Callistian Command Regiment. This has costed him the chance of promotion to Sargent and if it continues will cost him much more. But with the current situation every soldier is need, especially those who are skilled and experienced guardsmen.

Friends: Anyone who proves to be friendly themselves. Especially friendly to those from Valhalla.

Enemies: Orks, enemies of the imperium and anyone from the 'second sons'.
-Standard Valhallan Guardsmen gear.
-Three sets of uniform (one with the 52nd blue coat, one with the 374th white coat and one which is a make shift reversible coat of both uniform patterns).
-lasgun, bayonet and charge packs.
- spray cans of a verity of colours.
-carving knife and wood to carve.
-Hair comb.
-driving gloves.
-Keys for every kind of vehicle on base.
-Old servohauler unit savaged from the motor pool ('Zig-zag Rata II')


High Concept: Worn out teddy bear.

Trouble: "I loved her."

Aspect: Just needs a gentle touch.

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

Paxton 1.jpg
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Last edited by Hobbsy on Fri Oct 27, 2017 7:42 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Postby Hobbsy » Tue Oct 03, 2017 9:14 pm

Foster the Undertaker
Name: James Louie Foster
Nickname(s): 'Taffy' to those who have found his more tolerable side, 'Grumpkin' to those who haven't...
Gender: Male
Age: 73 (though don't ask him about it)
Height: 5'9"
weight: 148 lbs
Notes: short sighted from aging, has the odd navy tattoo, proud and scornful, hoarder, PDF volunteer.
Regiment: Naris PDF ( signed up when things went bell up )
Born: Void birth (Orbital station Taffica).
Training: Imperial Naval training and 'Whatever those fools in the PDF command tried to past as training for us!'
General appearance: It is clear to see that Foster is getting on in life; aging face, thinning body, white mess of hair which forms a moderately well kept beard around the edge of his face that joins to form a tuft on his chin. Though through his stubborn nature and most likely by share unwillingness to conform to the effects of time itself, he proves to still have a surprising amount of strength and willpower left. Though he is more noted for his temper and contempt for those of any form of high class. He also has a bit of sinister air about himself (As most undertakers do). He can usually be seen wearing his worn out cap with a distinctive stub round whole in it, a long black coat (similar to a commissar's, but more simplistic) and a vest of ornate flak armour. He also has a set of glasses for when he needs to shoot well or read for long periods of time, though he will avoid using these around other as much as possible.

History: Hives are filled with millions of people you will neither know or recognize, but there are always those odd individuals who stick out from the masses. James Foster is one such individual. Although he only became apparent after the invasion, it isn't hard to learn about his past. All you have to do is ask and he will regalia you with the full, uninterrupted story of his life.

From what others have gained from his ramblings he was born on an orbital station known as Taffica, "A cold and lonely place." is the usual answer he gives to those who bother to ask what it was like there. From there he join the Imperial navy on the ship 'Eagle's claw' and began a proud career in the Emperor's service which concluded in a climatic battle against an ork fleet in what he refers to as the "Battle of Rotorium."

After this, the ship 'Eagle's claws' had limped it's way to Valmaria for repairs. It was on Valmaria that Foster was released from his service on-board to live out the rest of his days. It was at this point he took up the work of the undertaker, doing burials for the few who could afford such privileges. As time went on, he grew resentful of the nobles who lavished there departed graves whilst others couldn't even afford a proper hole. But as he always stated "I needed the money and the pay was good."

When the Capital fell, Foster was one of the first to volunteer for the PDF, but found himself disheartened by the incompetence of command and eventual fracture of the planet's defence force. Not being one to abandon his duties he continues as a member of the PDF, though now enjoys a more leisurely stance on both dress and hours worked. Though when he isn't on duty with the other volunteers, he can be found burying the dead from the endless conflict enveloping the planet. Whether he brings them back to his own self constructed graveyard or a simple grave where one had fallen, Foster sees to it that every body he finds gets a proper burial. Though some see his actions as a noble act, others question why he has to take payment in the form of whatever the dead have on then of value. In his own defence he has always replied "I have nether taken anything unjustly or of personal value to the deceased! I only take what pay is due!"

Friends: Due to his 'rough' nature, Foster usually cause most to avoid him and his harsh tongue. But those who surpass the mean nature find a loyal friend in who will do his best to help those few who find his trust and even his admiration.

Enemies: Foster is known to take a dig at anyone just for fun, but after many foul experiences in his life, he particularly detests any form of military authority (mostly because he things he would do a better job than any of them). He also isn't very fond of the Tau with "That pansy 'Greater good' rubbish!".

-Laslock with a satchel full of single shot las rounds.
-2x promethium bombs (Vallhalan cocktails).
-Hook on a pole, knuckle dusters and shovel.
-Small traveling pack.
-Ornate flak chest plate.
-Black coat (undertaker coat).
-Old red cap with stub hole in it.
-Woolen navy jersey.
-Naris Whiskey. (Recently replenished)
-Undertaker gear.
-Account book.
-Decorative Lasgun and charge packs.
-Random assortment of materials.

Note: Also owns a shop and a graveyard. Rumoured to have a hidden fortune.


High concept: Elderly with Mix agendas

Trouble: Hauder

Aspect: No one bothers the undertaker

Character aspect:Best option we have.. For the moment. (Lothar)-Although he still wants his pips and will most likely try to undermine and out do him at every possible moment, Foster has developed a begrudging respect for Lothar and will actknowlage that he is at least 'capable' as a leader and the best option for an officer the PDF have. He will (at least partially) willing follow his command and follow his lead.

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

James Foster.jpg
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Art done by TheRedauthar, thanks again for this beautiful image! :D

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Postby Hobbsy » Tue Feb 19, 2019 9:42 pm

Servitor Caff

Name: Unit 071C++recaff/hauler++
Nickname: recaf or Caf
Gender: servitor
Age: unknown
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 440 lbs
Notes: Sevitor: Left arm socket for interchangeable tools and weapons, power/data socket in the rear of the head, reinforced leg pistons, vox hailer mouth piece, inbuilt recaff dispenser, metallic organ replacements
Regiment: Unassigned
Born: Unknown (suspected to have been converted on Valmaria)
Training: Unknown
General appearance: Grey of skin and eyes of dim yellow, unit caff like other servitor units has a rather unnerving appearance to many. Other that these details and those stated in notes above though, there isn't mach else to differentiate him from other servitor units. Other than his red robs, the only other distinguishing feature is a large faded birth mark which is on his left face cheek. There are rumours that it becomes clearer and darker when he is overheating or even getting too warm.

History: Not much is known about Unit 071C++recaff/hauler++, as is normal for a survivor. Yet 'Caff' seems to stand out for some reason, his bulky form dispensing recaff from his back or seen trudging around camp here and there doing whatever task is requested of him. It Could be the fact that he was found in the motor pool after it had burnt down, undamaged and unaffected. There are also plenty of rumours around him. Some say he was a guardsmen who had been badly wounded who was found by the techpreists before the medics. Others say he's actually several men strapped together. Others say the rest is grox shit and that he just came off a admech ship. No one knows for sure, if the servants of the Omnissiahs know anything they havent shared it.

Friends: Anyone of rank or who he has been put in control of or is told are 'friends'.

Enemies: Anyone who he is told are 'Enemies'.

-Red admech robs
-Body and machine parts (possibly spares)
-recaff dispenser


]High concept: Wield wisely

Trouble: 'Headlock' (Will struggle to function and act on his own accord without constant maintenance

Aspect: Will do as commanded

Careful || 2
Clever || 0
Flashy || 2 (torches built into eyes)
Forceful || 3
Quick || 1
Sneaky || 1

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Postby Hobbsy » Mon Feb 25, 2019 2:24 am

Second lieutenant Chrisov Smolenski

Name: Chrisov Baranan Smolenski
Nickname(s): Smokey
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 156 Ibs
Regiment: 34th Vostroyan Firstborn
Born: Hive Silas, Third level.
Training: Vostroyan Firstborn Regimental Conditioning, initial officer training, brief field experience.
General appearance: Of medium high and adorned in the right attire for a glorious officer of the firstborn (although his build don't seem to do it credit), Chrisov seems to fall just short of the dashing officer image. Although he at least sports a small and well kept moustache, his dirty blonde hair (shaven on the sides and grown out on top) refused to uphold the same standards and is always jutting or curled even in unusual ways. With round spectacles on the tip of his nose completing the appearance, most guardsmen's first impression of him is one of uncertainty. His quiet nature seems to also fall short of making up for his appearance. Reserved and at times shy, he does show to have passion and fire under it all which leads some to believe that a good officer could be made out of him yet.

History: Born as the first of the Smolenski household, Chrisov was always destined for life as a firstborn officer. Unfortunately he was not born of the same fine materials as his ancestors who had served proudly for generations upon generations. The Smolenski household, being ambassadors to Mars itself, also required of its liniage a high level of noble prowess. Instructed and train from the earliest age, many (including his father) feared he would not survive to fight for the Emperor. Or worse, not be accepted for service or inadequate for nobility! Yet Christov persevered through the training and beatings and, although not as 'noble' as his younger brothers, was at the least tolerated at balls and other such gatherings. He even proved to be a keen intellectual, which proved a saving grace amongst said gatherings.

When the time came for Chrisov to leave Vostroya, he realised (if not with a hint of nervousness) the chance to serve as his forefathers had. Though he was astonished and a little disheartened when he was shipped out with the 34th regiment instead of the 45th where his forefathers had served. Unfamiliar with those he found himself serving with, he spent most of his time furthering officer training and personal studies. Another surprise to his journey was that instead of joining the rest of the 34th, the green reinforcements found themselves diverted to Valmaria as part of the 'show of force' upon the planet. It would seem that his lack of proper image would save his life as he was not selected for the fates parade in the Naris Capital.

As the situation deteriorated, Smolenski found himself quickly catapulted into leading a platoon in a live combat environment. Although shake at first, he proved more than capable as a leader as fighting continued. His training and some deeply drawn personal courage carrying him through. As the situation became more stabilized though, Chrisov found himself pulled from his position as his depleted platoon was merged with another. Now the Vostroyan second lieutenant finds himself filling in all manner of positions in the bases HQ. Although well suited to the task, he still longs to serve on the front lines where he feels he belongs.

Friends: Chrisov is shy by nature and with his recent lack of time hasn't had time to socialize. Though he proves friendly to all he meets and if ask wi'll reply: "I have some close friends.".

Enemies: Only the enemies of the Imperium at this time.

-White fur Vostroyan fur hat
-Unaltered spectacles
-Vostroyan uniforms for the 34th and 45th fusilier regiments
-Vostroyan breast plat and armour
-Vostroyan respirator mask
-Vostroyan plasma pistol
-Cain of a unique design; made of dark ivory, its long slender body is topped with a small skull and ends with a extended corkscrew point of sorts.
-Moustache grooming kit
-Personal belongings


High concept: Potato sack in a tailor shop

Trouble: Still green

Aspect: More than what is presumed

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

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