Infiltration Character Sheets & Out of Character Discussions

Dark City Username: Korazell
Character Name: Ahzriva Dahveris
Appearance: Pale, red hair, long ponytail, sharpened teeth.
Acquired Wounds:
Feats: Night Vision, First In Command

Items
Armor: Ghostplate Armor
Weapons: Power Blade, Splinter pistol
Gear: 3 Cartridges (Splinter Pistol), 2 Bandages, 2 Plasma Grenades

Skills
Intelligence: 12
Strength: 8
Toughness:7
Close Combat:9
Ranged Combat:7

BACKSTORY
As a trueborn born into authority, Ahzriva was raised with as much emphasis on schooling, training, and courtly behavior as much as she was infused with cruelty and ruthlessness. Her Mother held a special spot in her heart during her upbringing for being supportive of her less-than sightly interests in the realms of flesh-crafting and torture but it was her father whom she'd credit with making her into the person she proudly is today.  Where mother was soft and silent in her fury and terrifying in the absence of outright violence only to lash out later in the cruelest of ways in methodical brilliance, Father was blunt in all of his ways. And he was, to a point, weak.

Mother was a vial of poison. A secret trap. A plot. Father was as subtle as a monkeigh's thunder-hammer laying siege to a fortress of glass. His bravado was legendary in their Kabal, his boasts both laughable and yet probable, and his ire was all consuming. He was a beast filled with basic wants and sought basic ways to bring those under him to their heels. When raising her, mother would lead by example. Traps of needles left in their dwelling for Ahzriva to avoid or find and thank the kindness her mother displayed by not poisoning them.

Father lead by nature. He was, even for Dark Eldar, a deviant. His parties were vivid displays that mocked Slaanesh and how Commorragh was hidden and out of reach, his private galleries living dioramas of murder and violation. His dinner parties were always secret affairs with cuisine gathered from the galaxy's finest specimens and prepared with care. Drugs and drink flowed freely. He was a grotesque glutton of murder and vile tendencies, a tick that had grown grotesquely fat on the filth it sucked from the society that it rode on.

Ahzriva wanted nothing of his world of soft-pleasures and his circus of meglomania. She struck out on a raid, leading it to a Agri-world that should have been easily culled. When they had made planetfall undetected and had landed they made it only two hours before one of her subordinates gave away their position. The fool had lost himself in the blood-lust and let fly with weapons that announced them and the city alarms sounded. This Agri-world was well defended.  In fact, it was completely different than the one she was given intelligence on from her father and mother. Here there were imperial guard regiments, batteries, radar, and alert soldiers. The kabalite whom had shot the disintegrator wildly had nearly been cut down a mere five minutes later via sniper-fire.

The retreat was sounded. They fought bravely and brought down plenty in their retreat. When they got back to their vessels they began to board only to have their raider's blown from the sky. Ahriza was first aboard, manning the disintegrators to cover the retreat. Once they had escaped the guns of the monkeigh and things settled down she turned her ire to the Kabalite whom had given away their raid and had cost them direly. She had thought to cut him down with her words until he was cowering and then dispatch him but to her surprise the blame was being pushed elsewhere.

According to her crew, she was to blame. In fact, she was the one who fired the shot. Who was going to believe her? Certainly, her father and mother would want to side with her, but, from a military stand-point? She WAS in charge. The spineless worm who had shot when she had ordered silence and stealth got in her face, backed by his fellows, and declared their plan to have her gutted and fed to the razorwings.

In this moment Ahzriva understood something. She could be clever, she could be stealthy, she could kill without a drop of blood spilled, and she could plot and scheme but at the end of the day those are the deeds that no one hears about. Those are the deeds that are done in quiet, the tools of silence. These curs did not fear her for her ability to do those things...because they didn't know. She had no boasts like her father. Had no lavish displays of cruelty or depravity. She wasn't established as a ruthless monster. Fear had not yet been fostered.

Like a clawed-fiend she lunged out and attacked her foolish accuser. She took great chunks of his flesh out with her teeth and nails, eating what bites stained her lips like a starving creature, and drug him down to the deck bubbling after she ripped out his throat. Others started to close in and she lashed out, dropping them with wounds that were placed to maim and incapacitate. She was stabbed, shot, and bruised as she fought any who grew closer until she stood covered in blood, eyes wild and alive with madness and her chest heaving with the thrill of such carnal carnage.

Of those that escaped on her raider, three were left standing, watching her stand with gore and strips of flesh dripping from her hands and mouth. The black glistening armor was caked with rich red down her front from those that struck down. Fear has stayed their hands. Fear had kept them alive while this whirlwind of rage dared them to come close and try her, wounded as she may be. They did not.

The raid was brought back around and they went to the otherside of the planet. They gathered their slaves and no one dared to break from her commands. She took her prisoners and her crew and she put the fear of her in them, no other gods could help them, she abused them in ways that cut deeper than any blade. Her crew were forced to dine with her on their fallen and captured alike. By the the time the raid had docked back to her home-spire and she stepped off she was regarded as a deamon in eldar flesh, like her father, feared, with her crew too eager to flee from her pressence than to judge her.

She embraced her parents. For they both had taught her how to be both feared and deadly.

Dark City Username: Cavash
Character Name: Nih'il Dahv
Appearance/description/bit o' story: Nih'il Dahv is a Young Trueborn Male. His eyes shimmer with the arrogance exuded by all Trueborn, and he is loath to tolerate True Kin of lower stature holding the same power as him. Despite being born into the time of the Kabals some think his heart beats with the ideologies of the long fallen Houses of old.

As a child he was raised by his birth mother. His infancy was filled with violence and hatred aimed towards him by his own blood. His father's hypex induced rages had claimed his life on two occasions in his most vulnerable years resulting in him becoming familiar with the sarcophagi of the dark oubliettes in his early days.

As he grew stronger he broke away from his family to spend a large portion of his life with a band of petty murdering drug runners. It seemed that no matter where he turned drugs were ruining the minds of those around him. He grew to resent his adopted gang and quickly became aware of the inferiority that came of being spawned of tube. They had no formal education and lived for the most basal urges. Stealing a large supply of their drugs, he fled to the realm of Sal’tillavaan.

He did not speak of what occured in the port whilst he was there, but when he returned to his Kabal his veins pumped with toxins. The toxins ached and made his joints flare with agony, but they kept him strong. He fueled himself with hatred to drive himself onward.

It was upon his return that he strangled his own father to death in a fit of rage and vengeance. He cast his corpse into a fire and scattered the ashes into the wind. He could never locate his mother. After his return he found a place within the Kabal of the Darkened Light.

Acquired Wounds:

Feats: Night Vision, Poisonous Veins

Items: 5 Phials of Poison, 2 Bandages, 1 Plasma Grenade, 2 Cartridges(Splinter Pistol)
Armor: Envenomed Kabalite Armor
Weapons: 2 Venom Blades, 2 Splinter Pistols

Skills
Intelligence:10
Strength:9
Toughness:9
Close Combat:10
Ranged Combat:6

Dark City Username:Zergavas
Character Name:Zergavas
Appearance: A dusty old suit of Kabalite Armour, Shrouded in an even more raggied and dusty coat that appears to wear some sort of symbols on it.
Backround story: There was a coat once that was lusted after by all the people in a small village. One day, during an inspection for heretics, an Imperial Inquisitor entered the village. After burning some damned heretics to death for heresy, he saw the coat in a store hanging upon a manikin. The Inquisitor was in awe of the beautiful coat and knew he had to have it.

Stopping his duties, the inquisitor hopped and skipped and jumped to the store with a smile upon his face. Purchasing the coat from the filthy shop keep, he placed it over his bloodied outfit and moved on to the next planet he was to inspect with his men after having the coat refitted with several inquisitorial icons.

Leaving his ship proudly after landing upon the planet he was to inspect, he took a breath of fresh air and hummed a tune whilst walking down the ramp. "Now is the time!" he thought to himself. "Now I will show them all what it means to be an inquisi-" BLAM! The inquisitor's head exploded in a sickening display as bits of his brain splattered over his coat.

In his daydreaming he had failed to notice the emptiness of the town square. That, and the multitudes of true kin raiders and ravagers zooming around the planet.

A lone figure approached the dead inquistor after killing the few remaining men that had survived the onslaught caused by the kabalites of the Kabal. The figure wore a dark armor with spectacular violet edging and had a helmet equipped with binoculars, of which he used to examine the fine coat that the filthy monkeigh wore.

Examining the outfit the inquisitor wore, he said softly with a grin on his face, "That's a nice coat."
Acquired Wounds:
Feats: Night Vision

Items:3 Cartridges (Shard Carbine), 2 Cartridges (Splinter Pistol), 2 Adrenalight, 1 Painbringer
Armor: Kabalite Armor with Built in Binoculars, Beautiful Coat
Weapons: Shardcarbine, 2 Splinter Pistols

Skills
Intelligence: 10
Strength: 8
Toughness: 5
Close Combat: 5
Ranged Combat: 10

Dark City Username: Haridar

Character Name: Solerion

Backstory: The Sea Vipers are known as savages and hungry for battle and raids under cover of heavy rain. Their obsession with their vehicles are unusal, almost insane to outsiders. However, this traditions and rituals are quite strange to outsiders, especially when they force to accept members of other Kabal into their fold.

Solerion is one of such unfortunate subjects: his crew was killed during the planetary raid on volcanic colony of Skay Ankley. Due to explosion of the transport he was in - The Daring Mangler, he was forced to escape with other survivors through dangerous paths of Webway that were still active on planet surface. When he returned to Commorragh with few other survivors, they gave themselves to Archon Saerion for rite of justice. The leader of Sea Vipers was enraged with news of some Inquisitor that ruined the raid, but the information he gor from his minions was rather useful. The punishments Saerion inflicted to his servants was severe, but not fatal. Many of them were tortured, left with no share of slaves. Solerion, due to the loss of his crew, and most important - his Raider, was forced to become a "Sombre Blade" - a mercenary to other Kabals until his debt to Sea Vipers could be repaid. In money, slaves, or with his life.

The Sea Vipers Kabal have little allies outside their district in Commoragh, but they still provide their "Sombre Blades" to anyone they see fit. Due to some strange and even disturbing circumstances, Raidmaster Saerion sent Solerion to Darkened Light Kabal, in order to test Archon  Illitriz's temper and his people as well. The reason why Solerion is tolerated among other Kabalites is a mystery, but his skill with splinter cannon is second to none. And prehaps it is fitting for him to join such missions for noone will shed tears for his death.

Apperance: Solerion is an examplar of Sea Vipers: a pale skin whith sick blue-green pigment, almost transparent in some places. Blank white eyes with no pupils stare and cause everyone to feel a little disturbance in his presence. Light ochre hair and sharp features of the face are the final freatures of this kabalite - all is a common things among Sea Vipers due to their genetic alterations each of the warriors pass to enter this Kabal. Solerion is still wearing proudly the colours of his kin - a polished and shining armour of bright blues and brass. A heavy helmet with pink fluorescent lenses and light purple hair tuft on top provide information about possible targets.

Armor: Heavy Kabalite Armor
Weapons: Splinter Cannon, 1 Haywire Grenade
Items: Enhanced Weapon Sights, 2 Cartridges (Spinter Cannon), 2 Bandages

Skills
Intelligence: 9
Strength: 9
Toughness: 10
Close Combat: 5
Ranged Combat: 8