Buttery Commissar wrote:
Feel free to change. I hadn't noticed.

I should mention that theCrowe's cadet and the as yet unclaimed shirt and tie (and baseball boots) cadet have the dubious honor of also being aboard my Tauros jeep. I'm converting the driver, and theCrowe's guy is the gunner. There will be L-plates on the back.

 War Kitten wrote:
Now we just need a commissar who pretty much ignores the book, then we'll have them, my cadet Ithe moderate), and chazz's (by the book). Should make for some interesting fluff pieces

 Matthew wrote:
Can I take Cadet #5?

 Avatar 720 wrote:
Finally got into the mood of writing my guy, although I kinda ran out of steam near the end and a few of the ideas I had for him fell apart and melded and I'm not actually altogether happy with his backstory apart from the beginning and what he ends up as.

He's 'done' for now, but I'll tell you if I decide to ret-con him at some point.

Name: Felix ‘Flex/Flexible’ Morriam

Rank: Cadet Commissar

Skin Colour: Pallid grey

Eye Colour: Pale Blue-grey

Hair Colour: Dark grey

Uniform colours:-

Cuirass and shoulder pads: Silvery-steel with gold trim and maybe gold skull?
Sleeves and tunic skirt: Red
Boots: Black
Cap: As Mordian 183rd
Bionic Arm: Wooden, if possible, otherwise same silvery-steel as cuirass
Power Sabre: Golden hilt with silvery-steel blade
All else as Mordian 183rd

Birthplace: Ibericca-Garden World/Hive World; Ibericca System; Segmentum Pacificus

Spoiler:

The planet Ibericca was something of an anomaly. The vast majority of the world was nothing special compared to the countless other hospitable planets in the galaxy, however dotted around it were areas of extraordinary natural beauty that seemed wholly out of place, as if artificially placed there millennia ago. All studies of the areas, however, suggested that they were perfectly natural growths indigenous to the planet itself. There was no evidence of even localised terraformation or the introduction of alien flora, a fact which baffled the Magos Biologis of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Eventually deemed safe for populating, the planet earned its bizarre and rare class of Garden/Hive World, and was subsequently assimilated into the Imperium. Populated only by indigenous wildlife and feral Orks, and with an entirely breathable atmosphere from the offset, its establishment as the system’s primary planet and namesake was swift. Its various garden landmasses drew heavy amounts of tourism from neighbouring systems, and combined with other resource-rich planets in the system, Ibericca flourished.

Ibericca’s swift rise to prominence however, would also be its downfall. People flocked unchecked through its busy spaceports, the planet’s juvenile government as yet unprepared for such heavy traffic. The roots of criminal gangs spread thick and fast in the face of scant Arbites presence, operating largely on smuggling and protection rackets. Entire criminal organisations ‘owned’ vast swathes of the hives well in advance of civilised order being brought to the planet. Ibericca was a corrupt planet almost from the beginning.

It was not just criminals who saw the possibilities in the young planet. Alongside the missionaries and demagogues of the holy Ecclesiarchy came the apostles and ochlagogues of the Ruinous Powers. They were stealthy, in the beginning, awaiting the disenfranchised masses who opposed the inherent corruption in the planet’s rulers and government; the people for whom emotions already ran high against the Imperium. Local PDF forces were drafted in to control the subsequent rebelling, and regiments from off-world were shipped in to bring the hammer of order to Ibericca.

Bringing weapons and machines of war was what the forces of Chaos had counted upon, and traitors amongst the PDF and local forces quickly ‘liberated’ equipment from the Imperial Guard in swift, bloody ambushes and mass defections. Ibericca fell into complete disarray. With the Imperium’s eye fixed firmly on the system’s capital, its other planets also succumbed. The appearance of the Warp Hawks Chaos Space Marines ended the conflict in one brutal swoop. Its arrival at the head of a vast traitor fleet overwhelmed the Imperials, and the system was lost.

Biography:

Spoiler:

Born the only son of an Imperial Navy Officer and a powerful politician, Felix Morriam was considered a ‘lucky’ child, and in more ways than one. To be birthed in one of the few estates allowed to exist in Ibericca’s garden regions was to be considered blessed, for how could entering the Imperium in such a wondrous place be anything less? His given name echoed the blessing, and although his family name was considered not so fortunate, all was largely overlooked.

Early on in his life, Felix developed a ‘rebellious’ streak. He constantly eluded his parents and endless numbers of minders to wander the gardens around their estate, spending his time amongst nature at its most beautiful and serene. The were no predators or dangerous flora or fauna in the gardens, aside from various poisonous berries and plants, and his ‘adventures’ were largely considered harmless, even if they didn’t exempt him from chastisement.

Felix’s idyllic life would not last. His mother, one of the few loyal politicians and nobles of the planet’s government, was brutally murdered during an extended stay in the planet’s capital Lyesbon to try and help deal with the growing discontent amongst the populace. Indeed, it was her murder—most likely a targeted and purposefully showy assassination—that spurred the Imperium to act. Felix’s father was called to service in the system’s navy, where he subsequently perished aboard the Mercury-class Battlecruiser Imperador Eterna flagship of the young Ibericca fleet.

Felix secured a place in the Schola Progenium following his father’s death. Some called him lucky to have made it off the planet alive, but he was nevertheless haunted by the experiences of his planet’s fall, the brutal death of his mother, and the news that his father had also died in the line of duty. His rebellious side was only strengthened, and he was routinely punished for a variety of infractions, although the Schola credited him for not once attempting to lie or excuse his actions. Further to his credit, he never attempted to push the envelope further upon discovering the boundaries of his actions. We would move on to the next, knowing exactly what was and was not accepted.

This strength would make itself known when it came to his training as a prospective Commissar. He bent rules and skirted laws masterfully, and knew exactly what he could and could not feasibly allow from those serving beneath him. Where others would lead with an iron will, and an iron fist, Felix allowed leeway; room to bend. A stagger back would not earn an execution for cowardice; Felix would support them, and then push them forward. Muttered insults would earn a glare and a reprimand, not a firing line. A guardsman who had space to make minor mistakes could learn, and reform anew. Within reason, of course.

Felix’s greatest test would come during the reclamation of Ibericca, and the beginning of a re-conquest of the system following the relocation of the bulk of the traitors and their fleet. Barely a Commissar Cadet, he would lead guardsmen through the hives he himself once walked, now rusted and ruined. Passion fought reason for control of his actions. His planet had fallen because people were weak, open to manipulation, easily bent out of shape. His greatest test would also become his greatest shame. Innumerable numbers of guardsmen would fall to his unwavering hand for cowardice; for dropping their gun on the move; for fumbling a new charge pack; for not having the courage to stand up to hell and look it in the eyes. Leniency invited heresy. To bend was to be open to manipulation; to temptation. He would abide it no longer. He stood up to his hell and looked it in the eye. And it almost killed him.

He would not retreat, even when his compatriot cadets’ wills faltered. They bent to the will of the traitors. Low-yield nuclear shells were deployed at the Siege of Lyesbon, and still he advanced. Countless guardsmen died to gain inches. Waves were sent into the irradiated wastes of no-man’s land, crashing upon unseen rocks, never to return. The radiation leeched the very life from his body; bleached his tanned skin, bright eyes, and dark hair. With every breath it poisoned his body, reducing his orders to spluttered shouts as his dying vocal chords succumbed. His final charge saw his guardsmen fail, and flee, and he charged on alone, body weak from endless battle and radiation. Blood stained his silvery cuirass red, and his powered sabre spilled it in buckets. A bayonet took him in the gut, and he fought on. He staggered, hamstringing himself on razor sharp battlefield detritus, and he fought on. Finally overwhelmed by exhaustion and enemies, unsupported by allies who had long retreated, he fell, slipping into unconsciousness to the feeling of fingernails clawing at his face and eyes.

He had refused to bow, and it had earned him, and his men, a meaningless and inglorious death.

Luck was what had saved him, according to the doctors who had worked tirelessly to save his life. His arm had been hacked from him at some point, and had necessitated a bionic. Unfortunately, there was a limited number of bionics that could replace the eye that had been clawed out, and a short supply of vocal implants to restore his voice, but they would come. Doctors bent rules not just for him, but for others. They were allowed leeway, and were better for it. Mistakes were pointed out, punished, and rectified, but never forgotten. Lives were saved because of it.

Felix had realised the importance of this the hard way, and his actions on Ibericca would haunt him forever, but they would also make him stronger. His subsequent assignment to the Mordian 183rd would use his experience in being unfaltering and unpliable, and allow him to understand where he could push these boundaries, and how. Bend, but never break. By all accounts, the Mordians could use learning that a step back is not a retreat if it allows a path forward. That a bullet cares not how disciplined the man it kills is, and that the key to discipline is knowing when to bend, so that you do not snap.

Commissar Cadet Felix Morriam would not make the mistakes of Lyesbon again. He had scars enough.