Profile
Formerly Shas'Ui Ksi'm'yen Avit No'von Kuwae. Captured by a small Space Marine chapter and tortured for information. After returning home, he discovered that the Space Marines' brainwashing was more effective than he realized when the Ethereals told him to kill himself, and he refused, fleeing the empire after.
Now he wanders space in a looted suit of power armor that he's modified his body to use, and has been accepted into the Space Marines chapter of Dauntless Aureate. They know his true identity, and they have accepted him in spite of that, knowing that his beliefs, and his destiny, lie with them, and with the will of the Emperor.
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The whole situation is incredibly fragile. He can't risk losing his helmet, or having someone remove it. If they find out what he really is, they'll kill him. Avit has convinced himself of that. He's part of them now, but he's not one of them. Despite all of his internal convincing and justification, he's still a T'au, and they're space marines. He doesn't belong. Xenos and Astartes don't mix.
But where would he go, if not with them? The T'au empire has painted a target on his head in ethereal blood; he can't go back there. Hide on some rogue trader's ship for the rest of his life? That holds no fulfillment, and provides neither comfort nor peace. The choice of a coward who has given up.
And so he chooses this instead.
He chooses the life that makes him relive those months of endless torture at the hands of the Astartes. Hearing the words constantly slithering in his molding brain, the whispers of the Ethereal's lies. Black shadows gripping at his soul as he finally screams out in brainwashed surrender: the Greater Good never existed; there is only the God-Emperor, and everything is as the Emperor has willed it.
And alongside the torture they imposed on him, they implemented the rest of his very fate onto his body: the Imperium insignia branded on his chest so he'd carry their words and the will of the Emperor in his heart, and the words "XENOS FILTH" clawed into the flesh of his back so he would forever bear the weight of the sin that is his entire existence until he inevitably dies.
But sometimes, in the quiet solace of the inside of his blooded armor, his fingers will gently, almost reverently touch the Imperium brand on his chest, almost like he feeling like he's committing a sin by doing so-- and through the anxiety and fear, there is a soft bloom of peace in his belly.
Knowing that, despite every hardship, against all odds, and by willfully defying his own existence-- he is doing the right thing. The only thing.
