Eye colour brown ( light)
Hair blonde.
Skin tone tanned, healthy field tan.

Born onto a world with strict nobility and blood lines, her father was one of the PDF generals, her mother the daughter of a duke. Her life should have been easy. All ended when the rebellion came and the cults took over. When imperial forces regained control her parents and 90% of nobility was killed.

Her time on the schola was tough, because of her background she had to work twice as hard as her counterparts, though she never faltered, never broke.
By the time of assignment she was in top 1% of her class, winner of sword trophy.

A tough but fair commissar who expects the highest standards of her men, officers and commissars but never to execute without reason or cause and protective of the cadets under her,. Known to sometimes take a hunch. Adapt on the fly and predict enemy movements, her abilities saw her promoted quickly and gained much fame in the regiment.

However the burning of her world left mental scars no mind wipe could clear, and can manifest in various both dangerous and impulsive reactions but has yet to have impacted her career or jeopardized a mission.

Pistol, power sword and navy blue greatcoat. Dark hair, dark eyes, mid to late thirties.
Yorke is a maverick yet successful commissar, he prefers to motivate using his various social skills rather than plain intimidation.
He has served most of his career with the Mordian 183rd, after being forcibly expelled from his previous regiment. He has a reputation for being fair, but not becoming too involved with the cadets in his charge, preferring to stay in a mentor role. Despite this, Yorke does not get on terribly well with Commissar Delano, but maintains professional attitude at all times in public.

Ramirez "Cat" Yorke was not destined for great things. His parents worked an honest trade in a factory that produced farm machinery for agri-planets. A planet only recently embraced by the Imperium, and with little population, there was no real Planetary Defense Force to speak of.
When a small band of Orks arrived in the edge of the sector, they believed the smokestacks and sprawling factories were those of a poorly protected forge world. Barely able to believe their luck at the prospect of such bountiful unguarded dakka, they descended in full force.
The local PDF fell within days, ill prepared and poorly supplied. Cat's parents formed a second militia, even pulling down some of the valued factories onto the invaders in their bid to buy time for help to arrive.

And somewhere amongst the chaos, a single, personal signal caught the ear of a distant Rogue Trader captain, who in turn bent the ear of an Inquisitor, who in turn shook up the sector's Imperial Guard force.
It took the best part of a week for the Guard to even arrive in the planet's orbit. It took another two before a decision was made to defend the remaining population.
A cold, mostly uninhabited world, it was not high priority for protection. And with the destruction of their own factories, even less of a useful resource.
But cutting through all the paperwork and tape was the knowledge that there were still people down there, and the guard argued hard to be deployed. The distant Inquistor had final sway upon learning of the inaction of the general, and the civilians' last hope were finally allowed to intervene.

Cat was six. He believed in the soldiers. He believed his grandfather would arrive in the Rogue Trader vessel he assisted in running, and send the Orks running like in his stories. And if not them, what child doesn't believe in his parents?

By the time that guard boots hit the earth, the brave militia had only just fallen. All that remained were those too young or too infirm to fight the invaders, sheltering in the ice caves in the foot of the impassive mountains.
The planet had lost an entire generation, along with those who could train the next.
Scattered orks were easily destroyed by well regimented and practised troopers. The PDF and militia had held out well, and made a serious impact.
It just hadn't been enough. It is unclear where or when Cat's parents died. The factories became silent tombs, with so many dead and wounded, and so few to tend to them.

A small force of the guard regiment remained to assist with the aftermath and help stabilise. From them, Cat learned that their leaders had been the ones to let his world die unaided.
So whilst still an infant, Cat began to understand injustice. But seeing the controlled and well co-ordinated guardsmen, he also understood why the comparably disorganised PDF and subsequent militia had fallen amidst the xenos attacks.

With no industry to offer, the small planet now pays its tithes to the Imperium in the only resource remaining.
When the imperial forces first came to collect, Cat was to be taken at age ten, and trained as a trooper in the Imperial Guard.
But such was his anger at the attitude of the guard officers, the fear instilled by them and an accompanying Astartes, that he spoke out of turn and refused to bow to the visitors. It earned him a throw to the ground, but the outburst, Cat's honesty and insistence that with better leaders on the ground, the planet could have been saved, impressed the marine. He personally vouched for the young boy and suggested he be sent to the Schola Progenium, setting in motion a chain of events that very few could have anticipated.

Cat never learned the name of the Astartes that put him forward, and it's unclear if he would now thank him for doing so. He just remembered that the warrior was prepared to listen, even to someone as small and comparably inconsequential as an angry child.

Skin Colour: Pallid grey
Eye Colour: Pale Blue-grey
Hair Colour: Dark grey

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.

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.

Age: 19
Bio:
Cadet Acosta’s Mother was a captain in the valhallan ice warriors, his father a medic. When they were both killed after a fight with Eldar Cadet Acosta was sent to the schola progenium. Cadet Acosta was a model student without a single disciplinary action taken against him. Reports claim that Acosta spent most of his time independently studying. Accounts from his fellow students paint him as a no nonsense individual who wouldn’t tolerate the slightest break of standard protocol. Many of his fellow students found his up-tightness annoying and unpleasant. Cadet Acosta is credited with having uncovered and reported a treat smuggling ring in the ranks of his class mates. He was commended for his dutifulness but made a deal of enemies after the incident, many of his class mates referred to him as a tattletale. When Acosta turned eighteen he was assigned to a squad of cadet commissars they have come to dub him “By The Book” Acosta, a title Acosta bears with pride.

Personal notes
While Acosta has never had to perform a commissar killing I have virtually no doubt he would comply should the need arise. Acosta’s unwillingness to compromise is both a blessing as a curse. His strategic technique is flawless but completely conventional, should he face an unconventional opponent, he may not fair so well.

Equipment: Lasgun (Blue casing) Bayonet, Black overcoat
Eyes: Blue
Skin: Pale
World: Fearcall

Both his parents were officers in the Fearcall 314th Engineers, at different levels. His mother was a Squad leader for a group of Veterans and his father was a Tank Squadron leader. The world of Fearcall was invaded when he was 14, and both his parents were killed in a battle against the Tau. He took it upon himself to find who killed them, and found out that they had been killed by a brutal Pathfinder Sergeant who had been censured many times for his brutality. When he caught up to the team, as they were retreating from the new Imperial reinforcements, he improvised a knife from a piece of armor he found, and challenged the sergeant. The sergeant was much more skilled than a teenager, and nearly killed him. However, in his struggles to get away from death he managed to kick the pathfinder into an exposed piece of rebar, punching through his armor, and killing him. Raillin then used the pathfinder's bonding knife to scalp him, and since then has kept the knife as a souvenir.
The commissar from his parent's unit had found him zealous enough to be trained at the Schola Progenia. He has made it his goal to collect one hundred Tau scalps. In addition, he has quite a collection of knives, from many different places. At his last count, he has two standard Astra Militarum combat knives, the Bonding knife, a dark eldar skinning knife, and even an Adeptus Astartes combat knife that he keeps in his foot locker (as it is the size of a shortsword). Also, he is a cruel and sadistic man, who would not hesitate to administer a commissar killing and might even decide to use a knife instead.

Age: 27
Hair: black
Eyes: dark grey
Skin: dark tan
Planet: Tallarn

A little older than most cadets this man came to the commissariat from a Tallarn Desert Regiment. Although his file states his former name and rank as Colour Sergeant Lawrence, a young noble of the royal blood of Tallarn, the men of the 3rd Desert Tigers always referred to him, respectfully as Hadj. When his Regiment were all but destroyed by the mutant rebels of Kallastin, Hadj was amongst a handful of survivors, then only sixteen but already possessed of a grim countenance and an iron-clad faith. His survival against all odds combined with his unquenchable zeal only served to convince the ragged men of the Tallarn 3rd that the young prince was destined for greatness. Hadj was directed toward the Schola Progenium and hence found his way quickly into the Commissar Cadet Training Programme.

Being raised in the desert Hadj has a wealth of survival skills and desert warfare logistical knowledge. As such the lasgun and laspistol issued to Cadets are coincidentally his weapons of choice, both for their reliability and logistical adaptability. A laspack can be solar charged or tossed in the campfire at a pinch. Bolt-rounds on the other hand are considerably harder to replenish.
Hadj is also known to carry a traditional Tallarn curved blade beneath his coat which he uses for everything from combat to sharpening sticks for campfire cooking. He even uses his blade to shave each morning yet despite this fact he seems to have a permanent five o'clock shadow.

Adherence to the Imperial faith amongst Commissars is somewhat mandatory, however not all commissars could be considered men of faith. To know ones prayers enough to lead men in prayer is as far as some go. Hadj on the other hand comes from a desert faith tradition and follows his somewhat unorthodox devotions to the Emperor rigidly with little care for the opinion of others. His daily regimen of prayers, rituals and ablutions have kept his own faith strong but have given him a skewed focus on honour, purity and devotion that makes him quick to judge, despising the coward and the faithless above all. It is perhaps this tendency to overzealous judgement that has kept him in Cadet Training for so long. His instructors are somewhat reluctant to release him for fear that the men he would command would all to easily fall short of his high moral standards.

With his dark steel grey eyes, hidden beneath mirrored glasses, a deep brimmed hat and high collared great coat hiding most of his grim features it can hardly be surprising that Hadj is not a friendly man. Nor a very talkative nor light hearted sort. Often to be found buried in the leaves of some codex or pouring over a data-slate with a glass of spiced apple tea in hand, Hadj is a solitary, bookish man with very few social niceties.

All this is not to call the man rude. Far beit, he is polite and respectful to a Tee. His courtesy however does not extend to idle chit chat. Hadj is a man of few words in the social sphere but when called upon to share his views he is more than capable: Expressing his opinions however controversial with unabashed frankness but always with deference and formal respect. Always concise, always to the point and rarely in jest.
It has been said of Hadj that he could call a Warmaster a fool to his face and be promoted to the man's personal advisory council.

As a Cadet of the commissariat Hadj is not among the top rankings in his class. Scoring passingly at marksmanship, relying heavily on the easy accuracy of the lasgun. Achieving only a passing grade in Battlefield Tactics and Military Strategy, and below average in Diplomacy and Politics. Desert survival and logistics are not specific subjects given much weight at the commissariat. There is however, one area where Hadj positively shines; Oration.

It is unknown which particular dialect or oral tradition on Tallarn produced such an eloquent speaker but none can deny the Tallarn noble's vocal talent is awe inspiring.
When called upon to give oration in the field the sonorous voice of Commissar Cadet Hadj can be heard rising amidst the chaos of battle, a clarion call that could stir the soul to sheer rapture. So powerfully engaging are his orations that he has been informally investigated by the Ordo Maleus on two separate occasions. No allegations or formal investigations of witchcraft or other Psy-capability have ever been forthcoming, yet the spell of his voice is an undoubted force of will. Whether reading from a favoured text or simply raising it aloft as a ralying point while quoting from memory, the voice of Hadj can hold all but the most shellshocked of troopers in his sway, stir them to a frenzy and deliver them to the enemy with all the fury and dedication of crazed zealots.
So provided with a band of blazing neophytes to accompany his charge the desert prince can often be seen in the thick of the violence with his curved knife in reverse grip flashing across the throats of the enemies of the Imperium. Indeed his skill with the blade might also be described as eloquent.
For Commissar Cadet Hadj the right words may produce the right actions, but in the end action speaks louder.

Eye Color: Dark Green
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: White, very pale

Gaelos has been regarded as timid, and takes an unusual amount of time to trust anyone, even among commisars. The cadet lost both parents defending their homes against an ork invasion on planey Helia in a neighboring subsector of Mordia. Part of Gaelos' individualism is that he doesn't want to keep connecting with people he knows may die, perhaps by his own hand on a daily basis, having been scarred after losing his parents. Gaelos relies on deception with strategic threats of discipline and fear thrown in when the situation requires, and makes little friends wherever he goes. Gaelos is talented in judging one's character, and can use psychological warfare to get his way, even if the book would prefer him using his pistol instead. Also, in the same regards, Gaelos uses the instructions manual as a guideline, but much prefers his own mind power and instincts to get him to the next sunrise.

Eyes: Blue
Hair: Black
Skin: Tanned

Backstory:
Jhonus was the son of a high ranking advisor in his planets government before Orks invaded and crushed the local population, including his parents. In the ensuing chaos, despite being just under 18 years old, Jhonus was caught up in the fighting, managing to survive and help pull together a rag-tag group of civilians, PDF, gangers and others until they were relieved by the timely arrival of the Imperial Guard.

In a rare case of a round peg fitting in a round hole it was noted during the processing of the civilian survivors that his aptitude in combat and leadership, combined with the fact that his parents were local officials before their deaths would make him an excellent candidate for the Commisarial Schoola.

At the age of 20, following 2 years of service as a cadet commissar he was awarded a meritous combat award for actions under fire. This included but was not limited to recovering the company colours during the pacification of Grendor Prime and preventing the collapse of the remains of the 486th Kaldorian Rifles during the rebel counter attack.

At the age of 21 he was awarded the serious wound medal for injuries sustained in combat whilst going to the aid of a Guard squad who were pinned down and unable to advance. Despite being severely wounded while reaching their position (a shrapnel wound to the chest which punctured the right lung), Cadet Commissar Jhonus was able to rally the squad and lead them to their objective.

It was during his recovery that the rest of his training squad was wiped out, along with the Commissar in command. As the sole survivor, he was transferred to the nearest Commissar Training Squad.

When the spires of the Hive City of Eboracum fell to terror and lawlessness the fleeing nobles of the ruling House of Barbary, those fortunate enough to get out alive, arrived on the doorstep of the sector's primary Missionaria Galaxia seeking sanctuary, destitute and bereft of all but their pride; Their former lands, deeds and properties having fallen to ruin about their feet.
The Missionari contacted the Ministorum who sent agents to investigate the matter while the asylum seekers were sheltered. Among the survivors was a child who had a ragged scar through his left eye having been quite literally torn free from the grasping mob. A boy of only five years of age, Antonius of the noble House of Barbary showed promise in the classes he received at the Missionaria; his first by all accounts. The child was eager and willing to learn and soon much loved by all his tutors.

After nearly two years in the custody of the Missionaria the agents of the Ministorum returned with a damning verdict of Gross Negligence on the part of the ruling nobles of Hive Eboracum. Generations of decadence and profligacy as the House of Barbary squandered the resources of the hive, had seen the once proud city fall into disrepair, disease, hunger, civil unrest and eventually armed rebellion. The last official act of the twelfth and last Lord Barbary of Eboracum was to sign a confession (at gunpoint) of his own criminal negligence, handing over governance of the people to the rebel leaders, to rule in the name of the Emperor. He was then executed by firing squad, like so many of his people before and after.

When the agents of the Ministorum arrived they had found a fallen city in utter chaos. Without their unifying hatred of the House of Barbary the various factions within the victorious rebels had fallen upon each other and their revolution had fallen apart. First armed gangs formed around would-be leaders, soon criminal organisations and drug cartels controlled private armies and the streets ran red as they all tried to stake their claim and fill the power vacuum. The city burned and the people continued to suffer until the agents of the Ministorum with a hastily assembled PDF regiment brought the streets and the people to order.

The refugees of the once Noble house of Barbary were turned over to face the Emperor's justice; all but one. Antonius, still but a child and hardly complicit in the sins of his forefathers was given a place in the Schola Progenium. The last heir of Barbary might yet work to earn for his line the forgiveness of his Emperor.

As the child grew it became apparent that he would surely serve as a fine Commissar Cadet, being both quick witted and charismatic. He was enrolled and his progress has continued admirably. As a Commissar Cadet he wares a commissar's great coat which he has had made in the same flame pattern as the monks of the Missionaria who raised him, in deference to them in and piety. He also wields the Sword of Barbary, his birthright as the heir to the title. It is a gaudy heirloom, a red bladed power sword of ancient design that was sent with the child on his escape after the father was captured. Incredibly, through some silky manipulation of the right sources Barbary has managed to acquire another power weapon; a standard pattern imperial guard issue power fist, which may or may not have belonged to the previously attached commissar who served the squad before Yorke's arrival. He carries both weapons into battle and has little or no use for the lasgun he was issued with as his marksmanship is abismal.

As a leader of men the young Lord Barbary would inspire troops with his confidence and charm, his contempt for the enemy and his cavalier swagger. When one is carrying more power weapons than the average space marine squad one may indeed be so cavalier. A young man of obviously noble breeding and first rate education he has no trouble mingling in high society with great men and officers and is in no danger of falling in too much with the troopers.

Cadet Barbary is a big personality with a lot of friends and just as many enemies. An officer and
a gentleman if ever there was one but the tell of his lineage can still be seen in his blossoming command style. An allarming trait has been noted by his instructors in many of Antonius' assessments, of wastefulness and wanten disregard for the husbanding of men and resources. Unless he learns this vital skill his instructors fear there may be no future for the young lordling in the uniform of a Commissar, though this is unlikely to stop him gaining a position of authority in some other military sphere where he could easily do as much if not more damage.
In the 41st millenium humanity can ill afford to wage a war of attrition and unfortunately men like Barbary are all too common in the upper echelons of Imperial society.

Hair: light brown
Eye Color: green
Skin Color: Tan

Cadet Alenko was found in the ruins of the Imperial world of Severus Prime and he was initiated in the Schola. There he swiftly showed an aptitude for combat and a purity of faith that hadn't been seen in generations. This was noticed by his instructors and he was swiftly induced into the commissariat training program. So far Cadet Alenko prefers to lead by inspiring the men around him, as he believes that executing guardsmen actually hinders his efforts to inspire them. His leadership style diverges from Imperial doctrine in a few ways, but so far the divergence has been deemed acceptable by his supervisors, as the results of his leadership style have been nothing short of impressive. In his free time Alenko surprisingly enjoys socializing with his fellow cadets and the guardsmen he serves alongside believing that it will help him to motivate them better when he needs to. As a result of this he has become close with all of the other cadets that he's serving with. During his service he has been granted a few awards, mostly for his tendency to be extremely calm under fire, although he has won several awards for his impeccable weapons skill. Alenko is still a few years away from graduation, mostly due to his young age, being that he's only 18 years old. In recent months Alenko has been using a flamer and a power axe that he scavenged from an abandoned weapons factory whilst on duty, so far nobody has called him out on it, as his skill with these weapons borders on the supernatural.

While it is widely known that Alenko was rescued from the shattered ruins of Severus Prime, very few know the true cause of the planet's demise, most attributing it to a failed uprising. Alenko knows differently. Born the youngest son of the planetary governor, Alenko was destined to a life in the military from the time he was born. From the time he was able to walk he was learning military tactics and strategy and learning how to use weapons. Growing up around PDF troopers and officers had a profound effect on the young Alenko, it caused him to feel a special connection to the common trooper that many of his peers in the Commissariat lack. This ensures that he knows how a trooper thinks, helping him to know just the right way to motivate each individual trooper. Life as Alenko knew it ended during the summer of his 6th year. While it was widely known that Alenko's father was power-hungry and ambitious, most figured that governorship would be enough to sate his appetite for power. Not so, it was nowhere near enough for his father, so Alenko's father turned to the Dark Gods of Chaos for more power and began enacting dark rituals in shadowy corners of the planetary palace. These rituals served to bring a detachment of the Word Bearers to the planet. When Alenko's father went to greet the new arrivals with open arms he was cut down by boltgun fire, for the Word Bearers had come not on a mission to convert the populace, but to kill them. Alenko's mother was able to hide him in the archives underneath the palace before she too was killed, along with the rest of his family and the vast majority of the population of the planet. Eventually making his way back to the surface Alenko discovered his world destroyed, and no signs of the invaders who had brought death to his world. When he was picked up by representatives of the Imperial Military, who came in response to the planet's desperate calls for help, Alenko told them that he was the son of one of the planet's counsel of representatives, knowing that if his connection with the governor was discovered, he would be considered tainted by association, and killed. The death of his planet and the treachery of his father had yet another profound impact on Alenko. It instilled in him a purity of faith, and a burning desire to cleanse his family's name (even if nobody was to know about it). Every day Alenko pushes himself harder and harder, knowing that only through combat and the demise of the Imperium's enemies will he be able to restore honor to his family's name. Underneath the determination, there is also some fear, as evidence has recently come to light that one of the sons of the planetary governor survived, leading many to question where he went. Alenko worries that he will be found out, and executed for his connection to his father. So it is that Alenko throws himself into his duties, determined to wash away his doubts and fears in the maelstrom of battle. During his years fighting under Senior Commissar Delano he has developed a closeness with her, as both of them have lost much before they came to the Commissariat. Alenko has an rivalry with cadet Acosta, as the other cadet's strict adherence to the rules often clashes with Alenko's more laid back style, so the two often clash over how to deal with discipline issues amongst the guardsmen they're assigned to.

theCrowe wrote:I'll claim cadet #4 if I may.
Think I may have a ghost of an idea beginning to form.

War Kitten wrote:Commissar Cadet Alenko
Hair: light brown
Eye Color: green
Skin Color: Tan

Cadet Alenko was found in the ruins of the Imperial world of Severus Prime and he was initiated in the Schola. There he swiftly showed an aptitude for combat and a purity of faith that hadn't been seen in generations. This was noticed by his instructors and he was swiftly induced into the commissariat training program. So far Cadet Alenko prefers to lead by inspiring the men around him, as he believes that executing guardsmen actually hinders his efforts to inspire them. His leadership style diverges from Imperial doctrine in a few ways, but so far the divergence has been deemed acceptable by his supervisors, as the results of his leadership style have been nothing short of impressive. In his free time Alenko surprisingly enjoys socializing with his fellow cadets and the guardsmen he serves alongside believing that it will help him to motivate them better when he needs to. As a result of this he has become close with all of the other cadets that he's serving with. During his service he has been granted a few awards, mostly for his tendency to be extremely calm under fire, although he has won several awards for his impeccable weapons skill. Alenko is still a few years away from graduation, mostly due to his young age, being that he's only 18 years old. In recent months Alenko has been using a flamer and a power axe that he scavenged from an abandoned weapons factory whilst on duty, so far nobody has called him out on it, as his skill with these weapons borders on the supernatural.

There's my little snippet of fluff. I tried to make him more of a moderate, who toes the Imperial line, but who diverges from it in a few ways by being close to his men, and using non-standard weapons. Hope it's ok

Avatar 720 wrote:Please may I half-inch #1?

EDIT: Also, how in-depth would be too in-depth? Are there any quirks of the Regiment that they would adhere to? Any Regimental rules outside the norm? What's the Regiment's preferred fighting style? Any other things that would help give a vague template?

2BlackJack1 wrote:Commisar 6, good sir. I have some ideas for him, and the eye patch makes it all the better as I was going going to ask if you could do some scarring of an eye before I saw the models. I saw another with scars, but I think 6 will be better for me.

 Buttery Commissar wrote:

Avatar 720 wrote:Please may I half-inch #1?

EDIT: Also, how in-depth would be too in-depth? Are there any quirks of the Regiment that they would adhere to? Any Regimental rules outside the norm? What's the Regiment's preferred fighting style? Any other things that would help give a vague template?

Nothing is too in depth, so long as you're enjoying it.

chazz huggins wrote:Also if Cadet #2 is open, I'd like to write up a bit

Sgt_Smudge wrote:Is Cadet #7 up for grabs? He looks pretty damn badass!

 chazz huggins wrote:
Cadet Commissar Alenko, hmm seems oddly familiar.

 War Kitten wrote:

 chazz huggins wrote:
Cadet Commissar Alenko, hmm seems oddly familiar.

Is it? I was honestly just making up names in my head for my cadet. Whoops

 War Kitten wrote:
My cadets name has been changed.

 War Kitten wrote:
Oy. Alright then. Changing it back again. Buttery will probably want to shoot me after all this