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Corin Arnheim

Soulless? Pah. I gave my soul to the Hegemony, along with the blood of its enemies.

0 · 219 views · located in The Ruins

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by XavierDantius32

Groups

An empire stretching thousands of worlds, the Hegemony exists to further one goal; the complete domination of everything non-Scatterran.
An empire of shapeshifters, the Erutins value their twin above all. Largely peaceful, they remain prepared for war.

Description

Corin Arnheim




Name: Corin Arnheim
Rank: Hauptsturmführer, Ritter
Decorations:
Knight's Triad with Oak Leaves, Swords and Diamonds,
Wound Badge in Gold,
Panzer Assault Badge,
Anti-Partisan Badge in Silver,
Infantry Assault Badge,
Close Combat Clasp,
Armour Destruction Badge in Gold,
LW Sports Badge in Gold,
Shooting Cord in Gold (Armour, Infantry)
Order of Merit

Age: 57
Gender: Male
Location of Birth: Sarmutz V, Hegemony of Aligned Systems.




Physical Description: Corin despite his wounds, is the epitome of Belkan military perfection. His every movement is clipped and precise, his posture ramrod straight. Even without his massive musculature and disfigured face, the sheer ferocity in his eyes show that he is quite willing to kill without compassion or remorse.

His injuries have come to define him, after the brutal battle that earned him the Knight's Triad pinned at his neck. Two thirds of his face have been turned to the colour and texture of uncooked steak, leaving him blind in one eye. His left arm has limited mobility and he can't feel much with his left hand. These serve as a sign that he will quite literally walk through hell for the God-Emperor and that to cross him only equals death.

Many tank aces choose to paint their turret armour with kill-markings. Corin has tattooed these into the flesh of his right arm. These marks take the form of the Landwachter's totenkopf insignia, and are only about a centimetre across. The whole of Corin's forearm is covered in markings, over seventy in total.




Mental Disposition: Corin is a killing machine. His whole existence is to bring about the ruination of the Hegemony's enemies, and he acts as such. He has no capacity for mercy or compassion. He is no fanatic, however. Disciplined and martial, he kills with precision and brutality.

Noted, Positive Qualities: Discipline, Tenacity, Ferocity and an unwillingness to lay down and die.

Noted, Negative Qualities: Incredibly stubborn and impetuous.




Personal Weapons: StG-356K, P-374, 12 inch Double-bladed combat knife, single-headed hatchet.




Landwachter Service Record:

2570- Graduated Hegemony Officer Academy on Tannhauser with distinction and the rank of , earning his Armour Shooting Cord in Silver, and the LW Sports Badge.
2572- Participated in the liberation of Bastien, earning his first Vehicle Destruction Badge and a commendation from [REDACTED] for assisting in the suppression of the local population.
2573- Earns the Anti-Partisan in Bronze after crushing banditry and sedition in the wastelands of Bastien during liberation.
2575- Reassigned to Solotov on the Collective/Hegemony frontline, where his squadron distinguished itself on the front, earning the Infantry Assault Badge after difficult terrain and heavy anti-tank fire forced them to abandon their vehicles and engage with personal weaponry.
2575- During the infamous Solotov stalemate, where Hegemony and Collective forces battled over kilometre long trench-fronts, Corin and his squadron earn their second Vehicle Destruction Badge and a Close Combat Clasp during a line-breaking armour charge that turned the tide in Belka's favor.
2577- Participated in the Solotov counter-insurgency effort, once against assisting [REDACTED] in the capture of several Collective command elements.
2580- After a period of retraining and resupply, Corin joins the 4th Army Group on its campaign into Sadik space. Earns a second Armour Destruction badge during planet fall on Izzet II.
2581- The heavy toll on Hegemony vehicles during the Izzet II campaign puts Corin in charge of an impromtu tank hunting group, earning his Infantry Shooting Cord in Gold, the Armour Destruction Badge in Gold, and the first stage of his Knight's Triad.
2583- After a decisive victory on Izzet II, Corin is reunited with his vehicle and a fresh crew, and deployed into the claustrophobic urban environment of Nessus City.
2583.3- During an assault on Nessus City, Corin's tank is holed by enemy fire, killing all his crew and setting him alight from head to toe. Covered in burning fuel, he leaps from the tank and captures his attacker with his sidearm and a hatchet, using this vehicle, and others like it to rack up over thirty enemy kills over a period of seventy two hours. For this feat of heroism, he earns a knighthood, the Knight's Triad with Oak Leaves and Swords, and the Wound Badge in Gold for his considerable injuries.
2585- After two years of heavy rehabilitation, Corin rejoins the Landwachter as a Hauptsturmfuhrer, reassigned to the second front against the Sadik, to help bolster the newer forces against the heathen enemy.

WARNING: THIS SECTION OF LW SERVICE RECORD 38218172 REQUIRES VERMILLION CLEARANCE TO VIEW

2586- Approached by Sommer Ehrt of the Verhor to assist during the recovery of sacred artifacts on the Sadik Second Front.
2588- Leads the destruction of several partisan movements on former Sadik worlds, calling upon Inquisitorial assets for assistance.
2590- Inducted into the Verhor as part of Sommer Ehrt's retinue.

SERVICE RECORD MISSING

So begins...

Corin Arnheim's Story

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"You there." A stern command rang out across the street, vocalized by a voicebox nearly destroyed by smoke and fumes. As such, it was gravelly and deep, but that only served to make it more menacing.

The man who had uttered the command was tall and broad, dressed in the uniform of a Hauptsturmführer in the LW, a Knight's Triad and Oakleaves pinned neatly at his throat. He stood with his feet apart, his one good eye glaring out at the world, as emotionless as an orb of glass. "Why arn't you on duty?."

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The sound of Corins heels snapping together rang out like a peel of thunder, his arm raised in the customary salute. "Heil Kampf, Frau Inquisitor." He boomed, face completely impassive of emotion.

When he felt that due deference to a higher authority had been given, he relaxed his stance, hand dropping to the side-arm holstered at his waist. "What is it you require, Frauline?"

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"Ja, Frauline." Corin nodded, unsnapping the catch on his leather holster, his fingers curling around the pistol's synthetic grip. His eye fixed on Adam, a small smirk spreading across his face. "Now, you can either put your hands above your head, and come quietly, or I resort to violence, and you head back to base missing some teeth."

It was clear from his very demeanor, and the unrestrained menace in his voice, that Corin did not make empty threats.

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Corin had no desire to eavesdrop, so stepped away from the pair, snapping closed the catch on his holster, linking his hands behind his back, heels together, the epitome of martial power.

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"Hauptsturmfuher Corin Arnheim, Frauline." Stepping forward, Corin snapped another salute, and began sizing up the pair. They were both odd, uneasy individuals that set his teeth on edge. Normally he held no truck with witches or heretics, but the presence of a superior officer kept him in check, like a bulldog straining on a leash.

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Despite his rather horrific appearance, Corin was a rather perceptive individual, and the Inquisitor's request hinted of the things that he enjoyed doing immensely. However, all he was equipped with was the long knife in his tall boot, and the sidearm at his waist.

"Of course, Frauline Inquisitor. May I make one request however? I have neglected to bring the proper tools to serve you at my best capacity."

The setting changes from the-inner-empire to Gambit's Bar

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It would seem that they were stranded. Behind enemy lines, without support. Even without his uniform, Corin cut an intimidating figure, a high-collared leather trench coat billowing out behind him, revealing his stocky build. He was a head taller than any human in the room, his Scatteran physique setting him apart from the Terran patrons. His fatigues were without insignia, aside from a single golden "V" on the collar of his jacket.

Beside him, stood the cream of the Verhor's commando division. They were all dressed as civilians, but their lithe and powerful movements would set them apart from any civilian, as if even the slightest twitch could be diverted into a killing strike. Four men and two women flanked Corin as he pushed into the bar, conversing softly in a Belkan war-cant.

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With all the warmth and familiarity of a laser targeter, Corin would turn to address the other officer, inclining the shaven dome of his balled head in his direction, clicking his booted heels together in response to the salute. The morass of angry scar tissue disfiguring his face and neck would twitch as a small smile split his colourless lips, one hand slipping inside the cracked leather of the coat.

"What business have you here?" Corin growled, his mangled larynx dragging every syllable over sandpaper. His commandos spread out behind him, innocuously taking seats in booths and behind tables, hands curiously positioned over armpits and waistbands. They were tense, resting on a hair trigger.

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The sharp cracking of knuckles broke Corin's silence as he shrugged out of his coat, draping it across the counter top. He stretched, unbuttoning the shapeless grey jacket, rolling up the sleeves to display the ranks of small skull tattoos marching up his right arm. A black-painted pistol grip jutted from his waistband, a knife hilt visible through the lining of the jacket.

Another smile discoloured his face, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. This man's language was fairly similar to his own, so there was no barrier to understanding. "Jagdtiger?" He inquired, turning to address the second man, a subtle twitch of his hand sending the nearest female trooper to her feet. "You are an armour crew?"

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Another twitch of the Ritter's hand brought his commandos to ease, hands sliding away from concealed weapons back to the drinks they had collected. Corin settled his powerful frame on a stool, the metal legs creaking under his weight. "I used to crew a tank.." He responded, turning to the second officer, regarding the silver collar pins with interest.

He scratched his right arm, almost on reflex fingertips tracing over the death's heads etched in dark ink on his pale flesh. "Armoured warfare has a certain majesty lacking in other branches of service."

The setting changes from gambits-bar to The Ruins

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The ruins spread across the landscape, pockmarked by age and gunfire. A few hundred meters away from an outlaying sepulcher, shattered by artillery fire rose a banked slope, topped by a spray of ancient pines. Taking shelter in these trees, wrapped in chamelioline capes sat Corin's commando unit. They had reached the meeting point earlier than expected, and had taken the time to properly secure their bug out route. Armed anti-personnel mines winked from the undergrowth, trails of red lasers marking their triggers.

At the appearance of the tank, Corin shrugged off his cloak and started down the hill, a compact assault rifle tucked under his arm. He was dressed as before, in shapeless grey fatigues, a pair of black boots rising to his knees. He had pinned his Knight's Triad to his throat, the decoration dulled with boot-blacking. Black combat webbing was cinched to his chest, supporting a small handgun and a wickedly sharp combat knife.

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Corin's movements were sharp and precise, sticking to the shadows cast by the ornate architecture of the ruined building. The comm-bead in his ear chirped occasionally, as a sniper team placed on the hill fed him reports of the armour crew's movements. Ostensibly, they were allies, brothers in ideology and purity. Unfortunately, the tank crew were not Scatteran, and spawn of the weakling human race. Thus, they had already earned Corin's contempt.

"I have a shot on the support gunner." His sniper whispered, the rifle nestled against her shapely cheek. "Nein. We'll give them a chance." Corin replied, stepping from the shadows into view of the tank.

"Greetings, Hauptsturmfuhrer!" He called, letting the rifle fall slack on its sling.

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"Movement. Vehicle. Armed." The clipped tones of his sniper, Nessa, cut through his thoughts distracting him from the conversation he was about to engage in. His hand dropped to the rifle swinging by his hip, the other rising to his ear to trigger the comm-bead.

"Distance?" He barked, already swinging into a low crouch, unsnapping the folded stock of his carbine whilst drawing it against the meat of his broad shoulder. "Three hundred meters and closing. I have a shot."

Inclining his head towards the tank and its commander, Corin shuffled into cover behind a low wall. "It appears we have company!" He called, bracing the barrel against a crack in the stonework. "Tune your radio to frequency six-three-four-six, and you'll receive targeting information. Nessa--" The Ritter's hand returned to his ear, aligning himself with the rifle's sights. "Take the shot."

The crack of a high-powered rifle would split the air, sending a flight of crows squawking up into the atmosphere, the round leaving a small trail of smoke behind it as it lanced across the ruins. Whether by some quirk in the atmospherics, or a subtle movement of the target, it would shatter against a column mere inches from the attacker's head, spraying him with dust and micro-shrapnel.

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The sniper on the hill cursed, tossing the rifle aside. "Incoming aircraft. Unmanned. Anti-tank payload. I suggest leaving before it gets any hotter."

Corin grinned, turning to address the figure who had just appeared from the shadows. "I'm waiting. But I doubt the tank will. Or our new friend. Or the hunter-killer drone about to hit our position." Corin gave a most evil smile, his eyes flashing like laser pointers. "Anything you've got to say, make it quick.

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The commandos had begun the retreat, disappearing along a northerly aspect, chamelioline capes pulled up over their fatigues to hide them from the drone's searching eye. Corin grinned, allowing a smoke canister to drop from his belt, filling the air with a rising plume of ash-grey fumes, filled with bright flashes of magnesium, effectively blinding the thermal camera as he disappeared into the night.

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Surrounded by his commandos, Corin emerged from the treeline, throwing down their own smoke grenades to mask their approach. The Hauptsturmfuhrer was cradling a belt-fed machine-gun in his brawny arms, a night-scope fitted to the weapon's top rail. His leather coat billowed out behind him, the Knight's Cross glinting at his throat, Verhor pins flashing on his collar.

The wedge of troopers moved with a swift precision, clipped economical movements marking them out as professional soldiers, tracking even the slightest movement or sound. On the left of the arrowhead formation, a female sniper in a shapeless chameleoline cape broke away and dived into the ruins, dropping into cover, eyes hunting for the source of an explosion.

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Corin's communications officer turned to him and grinned, slipping the heavy duty unit off his back, dragging it into cover behind a shattered pillar, extending a small dish. Any radios in the area would be drowned with pulsing static, a deafening roar broadcast by the jamming unit. The rest of the commandos advanced on the tank, another pair of chaff-filled smoke grenades arcing from cover.

A couple of shots would slash out in Ben's general direction, as Nessa's thermal scope picked him out against the black night. Corin leaped from cover, dashing over towards the tank, his rifle tucked in against his chest.