Ok, thats cool. I just really love this part of the role playing experence. The part where your character has a chance to die from a lucky shot.
Though here are some premade characters that came with the game to give an idea on what there is. And if yall' want you can use one of them or trim it up to fit your idea. I pulled a lot of the rules based stuff from them though.
Quote:
Mir
Male Feral World Conscript
“Men must die so that Man endures”.
You hail from the
deadly world of
Fedrid, whose forests
are so dense
and so full of
dangerous predators,
the Imperium
strictly forbids
offworlders from
descending on the
planet without a licence. Indeed, it’s a
wonder that your people have survived, so
hostile is Fedrid to human life. Somehow,
your tribes managed and established small
colonies formed out of a need for mutual
defence. Unfortunately, your efforts are
often for naught, for the Imperium culls
the best and brightest warriors from your
tribes to fill the ranks of the Imperial
Guard, which was how you found yourself
removed from everything you knew and
battling for your life against horrid xenos
and the shrieking tide of Chaos.
You found the work of a Guardsman
especially suited to you; your fighting
skills honed by fighting sabre cats, blood
wolves and worse on Fedrid, and it wasn’t
long before you attracted the attention of
Lord Inquisitor Anton Zerbe of the Ordo
Hereticus. Impressed by your zeal, natural
toughness, and ability to take orders,
he lifted you from the faceless throng of
Guardsmen and gave you a place in his
retinue. Having only served your master for
a few weeks, you are not yet comfortable
with your duties and wonder where fate
will take you.
You are a rangy young man with fair skin,
long brown hair and flinty grey eyes. Whorls
and geometric symbols cover your flesh,
tribal tattoos you gained as a right of passage
to adulthood. You still wear the uniform
of your battalion, a camouflaged suite of
fatigues and thick jungle boots, but you’ve
worked in a number of disturbing trophies
taken from your enemies—fingers, locks of
hair, and scraps of clothing. You believe that
by taking a trophy from a vanquished foe,
you gain ownership over his soul.
Armour (Flak): Guard Flak Armour
Weapons:
Axe
Laspistol with 2 Charge Packs
Long Las with 2 Charge Packs
Gear: Uniform, 1 Week of CS Rations,
Imperial Infantryman’s Uplifting Primer.
Quote:
ISHMAEL
Male Hive World Dreg
“Even a man who has nothing can still offer
his life.”
For nearly fifty years,
you spent your life
in the manufactorum
of Malfi, one
of the pre-eminent
hive worlds in the
Calixis Sector. Like
your parents before
you, you toiled long
hours, giving your
blood, sweat, and nearly all your time for the
good of the hive. It was a thankless existence
and one you were happy to perform since you
knew that your efforts added, even in a small
way, to the prosperity of your world.
Popular with connections throughout your
block, many of the other dregs looked to you
for leadership, to represent their interests to the
Administratum authorities that oversaw your
collective labours. You proudly championed
your people, instilling them with pride for the
mind-numbing tasks and encouraged them to
push harder. Many believed that you would
go far, rising above the rest to perhaps become
a foreman. You might have, but something
inexplicable happened. One day, you enjoyed
the friendship and respect of your peers, the
favours of your masters, and the next, everything
changed. The only explanation was a mistake, a
mishap in the higher offices that confused you
for someone else. You were accused of murder,
theft, acts so foul that to recall them causes you
to shudder. Everywhere you turned, there were
arbitrators and bounty hunters looking for you.
You knew it was your duty to turn yourself
in, to present your case, but deep down you
understood that such a move would be hopeless
and fatal. So you hid, losing yourself amidst the
machinery that dominates the bowels of your
world until you could find some way to escape.
The only way you could live was to get off the
planet and doing so was all but impossible in the
depths. So you drifted upwards, creeping about,
stealing food to survive, until you came to one
of Malfi’s many spaceports. There you stowed
away on a ship, the first ship you came upon, and
hid in the cargo hold. The lighter escaped the
atmosphere and it seemed as if you had slipped
free. At least until you learned you were on the
personal craft of Lord Inquisitor Anton Zerbe. You
were found, clapped in irons, and dragged before
the frightening Inquisitor. Being tossed out of the
airlock was your fate, but somehow, the man saw
something in you, perhaps your natural talents
at leadership or maybe your familiarity with the
dregs. He had you released in exchange for your
loyal service. You agreed. Your slate was cleaned,
and you’ve been a loyal servant ever since.
You are pushing fifty years old and a life spent
in the manufactorum has left its mark. You have
thinning brown hair and haunted brown eyes.
Your dark skin is bleached white in places from
exposure to chemicals and reagents and your
bear the scars of toiling in the often dangerous
environment. You have next to no possessions
except for the stained and torn coveralls you
wore on Malfi.
Armour (Primitive): Quilted Vest
Weapons:
Hand Cannon with 2 Clips
Brass Knuckles
Knife
Gear: Stained Coveralls
Quote:
XANTHIA
Female Imperial World
Killer
“Violence solves everything.”
Zillman’s Domain
is a brutal world,
trapped in a feudal
monarchy, where
might makes right.
If you’re not one
of the king’s supporters,
you are a
peasant and live
and die at the
pleasure of your
betters. For much of your life, you lived in
ignorance of the larger world, content to
serve and be used by the “nobles” of your
world. Your life took a sudden and drastic
change though when your pretty sister was
abducted by a filthy and lascivious lord for
who knows what purpose. You had heard
stories of the lord’s appetites, but it was his
right. However, with the loss of your sister,
you felt, for the first time, enraged, appalled
at the unfairness of your life, and so
you decided to take matters into your own
hands. Against all reason and good sense,
you crept into the lord’s castle, found his
bedchambers and brutally murdered him.
That should have been the end of your
story, since after you were caught, you
were frog-marched to the gallows to hang.
But it wasn’t the end. Just as they slipped
the noose over your neck, a dark man of
sinister mien interceded on your behalf. He
appraised you with his sparkling black eyes
and you felt his presence in your mind.
He demanded that you serve him and if
you did, you would be rewarded. Death
by hanging was not the fate you had in
mind for yourself, and so faced with no
other option, you agreed. You were cut
down, given proper clothing and was then
spirited away from Zillman’s Domain for
the rest of your days.
Having only been in the Inquisitor’s
retinue for a few short weeks, you have
found the arrangement to your liking. You
resent his command, but the promise of
honing your talents is attractive. You’re
content, for now, to see where your service
will take you, but are ready to make a run
for it at any time.
Although you spent many years on
a Medieval World, you have embraced
the wonders of civilisation, even going
so far as to get an electoo on your arm
and purple lenses to give your eyes an
exotic look. You have long blonde hair,
but you’ve dyed the ends black. You wear
tight-fitting leathers that both enhance
your physical assets and warn people to
keep their distance.
Weapons:
Laspistol with 2 Charge Packs
Compact Laspistol with 1 Charge Pack
Sword
Knife
Gear: Corpse Hair Charm, Stealth Gear
Quote:
CIMBRIA
Female Void Born Trooper
“There are no civilians in the battle for survival.”
Drifting through
the gulf of space,
you were born
and spent much of
your life on a ragged
mass of flotsam
and jetsam—the
barely spaceworthy
remains of a space
hulk. Isolated and
adrift, your people
were largely insane and many held heretical
views, a fact that concerned you being wellversed
in the Imperium and the responsibilities
of its citizens. You took it upon yourself to
root out heresy and corruption and to retain
the right-thinking of good Imperium citizens.
You were a bit too aggressive, which made you
unpopular, but those who followed your example
saw in you a pious commitment to the
God-Emperor.
Having escaped nearly a dozen
assassination attempts and personally killed
almost as many mutants and suspected
mutants, you came to see your home as being
stifling, and that you could do greater deeds
by serving the Imperium more directly. The
chance you had waited for came when the
Lord Inquisitor paid a visit to your hulk. He
walked the corridors, inspecting the people,
searching for any sign of heretical behaviour.
You, of course, made yourself available to him,
sticking close to his side to cater to his every
whim. He found little evidence of anything
amiss until he interviewed your parents.
From his scrutiny, he deemed them cultists of
Chaos and ordered their deaths. Your parents
denied the claims, but the Inquisitor could
do no wrong. You offered to execute the
heretics yourself and the Inquisitor allowed
it. When the deed was done, he plucked you
from the space hulk and invited you to join
his retinue.
Though the deaths of your parents, as well
as your hand in the act, has been hard to
endure, you have few regrets. Through your
new master, you have the chance to do great
things and purge the heretics from the great
Imperium. Each day, you strive to prove your
worth in the hopes that you will one day
become an inquisitor yourself.
People find you disturbing. You are an
albino, with wispy thin blonde hair that’s
nearly white and blood-red eyes. Your milky
skin, nearly translucent, clings to your skeletal
frame. You wear long black robes trimmed in
silver beneath a heavy black flak vest that’s
seen its share of action.
Armour (Flak): Flak Vest
Weapons:
Laspistol with 2 Charge Packs
Hunting Rifle with 3 Clips
Club
Brass Knuckles
Knife
Gear: Good Uniform, Arbitrator ID, Chrono,
Pack of Lho Sticks.
