Real Name; Unknown

Current Alias; Dust

Aliases; Hunter, Whiteblood, Tin Man

Known Relatives; None

Group Affiliations; Red Sect of Conquest

Base of Operations; None


Identity; Not known to legal authorities.

Legal Status; Not a citizen of any country.

Marital Status; Single

Occupation; Mercenary

Education; Genetic memory supplemented by a keen mind quick to adapt and learn.


Gender; Hermaphromorph

Body Type; Slender

Height; 183 centimetres

Weight; 91 kilograms

Strength Level; Rank 4 (Peak Human), able to press-lift up to 318 kilograms.


Terminus, an artificial plane which resembles an enormous walled city. It is a labyrinthine mix of twisting natural landscapes and artificial construction. There, machinery and the forces of nature are inextricably linked and despite its ordered appearance, is deadly even for its inhabitants. A purposeful design, those who survive a place where the land itself might rise up to kill them are pushed to the limits of human endurance even while they carry out the duties necessary for the culmination of their leader’s experiments.
+++Formed by concentric rings, walled sectors within a cavernous bowl, refuges are dotted about the landscape which protect from the toxic flora and fauna, lending shelter and amenities. Apart from these is a great complex, a singular structure at its centre which offers unparalleled defences. This is the hub of human habitation within Terminus, but not the only one. Twin cores which power the plane’s machinery reside beneath the hub, drawing power from the very fabric that underpins it. Citadels possess towers that act as power-plants mines and factories, their territories demarcated by the wastes that stretch out around them. This ring acts as a border between the outermost wilds and those inner, inhabited lands but few live amongst the automata which range there. Monolithic structures range in the sky above the planes, shifting masses of polyhedral suggestion which regulate the plane’s energies and environmental conditions.
+++Those who lead the plane’s inhabitants in absence of its makers reside within enormous temple-fortresses while their leader retains a personal sanctum as spatial pockets within the fabric of Terminus itself. Lost in a revolt of the plane’s synthetic denizens during the early days of the plane’s existence, the ruins of an academy sit beneath a landlocked ocean. A shrine dedicated to lesser leaders stands within a necropolis, also left from the revolt. Townships and abbeys stand within the poisoned wilderness which though lesser than that great expanse beyond protective walls remains n less dangerous, their great halls dedicated to the blood shed through the endeavours of their builders. A public domain is kept open for their leader, an arcane sanctum that acts as a chantry for the teachings by which the people live. A planar portal, the greatest mechanical accomplishment upon Terminus, is housed here.
+++Organized into five sects, they are as well-tuned and sturdy as the buildings and machinery they oversee. The denizens of Terminus serve variously as their surprisingly well-established society requires. Only the occasional encroachment of the wilds breaks a peace maintained since the revolt, the spread of automata into the deeper reaches promising further security and a completion of their duties. Once utter mastery is attained, the plane itself will be emptied as every one of them spreads across the multi-verse to share their accomplishment.


A living doll manufactured by unknown hands. Wandering the land, they exist to hunt the horrors which stalk there. Acting under the cover of a mercenary, they use this as a means to move amongst the underworld of those places they visit in order to ferret out the true monsters which lurk beneath. After a trial run, they were released into the world at large to pursue their goal independently.


They appear much like a life-sized ball-jointed porcelain doll, an unnatural thing void of life. As a result of their artificial nature, what would be flesh is instead a vitrified, chitinous shell somewhat akin to bone that is soft at a touch but grows rigid when struck. Their features are similarly malformed, presenting a sexless visage made uncanny by their approximation of humanity. Long white hair spills about their shoulders, loose strands framing a face clad in perpetual shadow, obscuring any features it might have beyond a thin-lipped mouth and aquiline nose above a narrow chin. If they have eyes, these are perpetually hidden behind a swath of black cloth. Their “skin” is marred by a bevvy of deep scars crisscrossing their body and limbs, rendered black by the ichor which flows beneath in place of blood.
+++Little more than an automaton, they are largely inexpressive with a personality that is much the same and presents a quiet, thoughtful front not unhindered by what is more a mask than a face. Beneath this unassuming façade is a mind that is cold, calculating and ruthless. Though not entirely uncaring, most who interact with them are met with a front that is taciturn and stoic, coupled with a soft monotone voice. This and a willingness to confront others for perceived failures and weaknesses can be construed as arrogance, which is true to an extent but this does not prevent admittance when another comes along who surpasses their skill.
+++Mannerisms tend to straddle the line between man and machine; movements are simple and robotic, verging on stilted and awkward at times. This clumsiness is apparent even in combat, though they have long learned to compensate and thus show little to no hindrance. Despite this apparent lack of articulation, some of their other mannerisms and features could be considered human, such as brushing off clothing, posturing and taunting foes.
+++Said attire is a membranous covering appearing at a glance to be a dusty, smoke-like shroud of darkness but which can snap into solidity with frightening speed. It consists of a voluminous cloak beneath the folds of which gleam overlapping armoured plates. The substance shows a consistency somewhere between silk fabric and oily liquid and, as its appearance might suggest, leaves behind a feeling of moisture when touched although no residue is present upon examination.


Their artificial metabolism processes the blood of the living into a healing panacea which quickly closes even grievous wounds upon injection into their veins. This also gives them enormous strength and agility, capable of combatting otherworldly horrors on equal footing.

Due to the aberrant nature of the materials used in their creation, their presence causes a sense of nausea, vertigo and dread. Unlike those greater entities, whose very proximity would eventually erode the mind, these feelings will pass when in their presence. Likewise, close proximity to electronic devices will result in varying amounts of interference.

They can sense the aberrant nature of those they hunt even if the prey disguises itself by wearing the flesh of another.

A projection of their own questionable biology, the folds of their clothing hide suggestions of crooked, crawling members beneath. Belying its artificial nature, and in contrast to its wearer’s unchanging outer husk, this aberrant matter is a perverse mockery of the human equivalent of flesh and can be extruded in the shape of multiple viciously clawed appendages or thick, sinewy tendrils to serve in place of otherwise inflexible limbs. Bony plates can be coalesced in an instant to protect the body from blows should the need arise, but does require a concentration of the material which prevents simultaneous usage of other such manifestations.

Linked intrinsicly to Terminus by embedded technology laced throughout their flesh, travel back to the plane of their creation is simple as a the plane’s machinery is always linked to their own biology. Returning to any place beyond Terminus is a more involved process. An offshoot of this is the ability to alter the local underpinnings of reality to various effects, though this is damaging as their vital essences are consumed by the process.


Despite great strength and agility, their bodies are subject to the same stresses as any human. Even so, they can survive wounds that would otherwise incapacitate or kill. If subjected to such grievous injuries, they fall into a healing coma only to emerge once minimal functionality has been restored. The surest way to kill them is complete dismemberment and even so, the pieces will patch themselves together if rejoined.


Quicksilver blade; a sword with a seemingly liquid blade. Infinitely malleable, the wounds it makes refuse to heal and those things cut by it slowly disintegrate.