Tide of Change
The towering tech-priest of Mars
Charon is an inhuman thing, a man standing almost 3 meters tall. His frame is massive, wreathed in inhuman musculature that strains visibly beneath artificial skin, it’s unnatural texture clear to see beneath his tanned hide. His hair is long and dark, riddled with braids and the strange techno-fetishes of the machine-priests. His face is hard and angular, quietly projecting his abhuman nature through artificially sculpted features that are too straight, too hard, too sharp to truly be human. He is attractive, his face disturbingly perfect, but his demeanor is far too cold and alien for him to be beautiful. His is the beauty of the statue, alluring only through the exquisite artistry of it’s creation, it’s distance from humanity apparent even as it visage stands in perfect imitation.
Yet his cybernetic nature is never truly made obvious. But for the black studs of his interface implants across his wrists and back, there is no exposed machinery apparent in the form of the Magos, none of the mechanical features so inherent to the Priesthood of Mars. Instead he stands ideal, his physique utterly impossible in it’s forged perfection, like some cruel mockery that highlights man’s every flaw by their absence upon his machine-god given form. Even so, it only takes the heat of battle to burn away his veneer of humanity. With the sting of the bolter or the searing blast of the las his flesh is stripped from him, revealing the obsidian metal that lurks beneath. There lies his true form, the black-tinged killing machine with the leering, skeletal face. It’s adamantine bones wrapped in synthethic muscle, weapons woven into every limb and every shred of human weakness mercilessly purged through machinery and fire. There exists his true form, one forged to bring death to all who oppose the Will of the Omnissiah.
A machine that knows neither compassion nor compromise.
A bringer of ends that knows no mercy, no guilt, no fear.
A messenger of death that never ceases until all that oppose it lays in ruin.
That is his true visage, the real face that hides behind vat-grown flesh and simulated breath. The face of a man reforged without failings or flaws, stripped of all that would make him weak.
Stripped of all that would make him human.
(For a size comparison between the Magos and an slightly below average size human, see This)
Though he rarely speaks of his past as a man of flesh, when pressed Charon reveals he was born on a distant death world, bereft of both worth and culture. A world where man clings to a brutal life amidst searing days and freezing nights. A world where every day the sun cooks the flesh off a man’s bones and every night brings snowstorms so cold as to turn a man’s blood to ice within his veins. A world where vicious warlords battle for the right to claim dominion over all.
From this world he was saved, taken by the Arch-magos Hades Wrath to be just another subject for the experiments of the venerable Magos. Yet he proved himself, earning the admiration and respect of Hades. A respect that saw him taken as an apprentice, taught the sacred ways of the Omnissiah and given the gifts of the Machine-God.
It was under Hades tutelage that he rose from these origins, becoming a Tech-priest of Mars. And from there, his savage determination and relentless pursuit of progress put him upon the path of Explorator, where he eventually earned a place aboard the Litany of Hate.
And there he stands, ready to aid Lord-Captain Thorum in his endeavors, eager to find the forgotten knowledges and gifts of the Omnissiah, and to bring the wrath of the Machine-God down upon all those who would dare to bar his path.