Caerwyn Beraht

Exiled lore seeker, professional chickenshit, and medical doctor.


+Rogue Trader Character Sheet+

Name: Caerwyn Beraht
Age:20 Hair: Brown
Height: 5’8""

Homeworld: Noble Born Birthright: Savant

Lure of The Void: New Horizons (Seeker of Truth) Trials an’ Shit: Dark Voyage
Motivation: Pride

Career: Missionary
Rank 1- Order of Hammer Initiate (Questor Interlocutus)
Rank 2- Missionary

WS: 50 BS:25 STR: 40 T:35 AGI: 35 INT: 56 PER: 30 WP: 45 FEL:30

Wounds: 10 Fate: 3/3 Insanity: 5 Corruption: 1 Profit Factor: 43

Encumberance: Lift (36kg) Carry (18kg) Push (72kg)

Talents and Traits
Total Recall
Pure Faith
Unshakable Faith
Peer (Academic)
Peer (Ecclesiarchy)
Enemy (Inquisition)
Basic Weapon Training (Universal)
Melee Weapon Training (Universal)
Legacy of Wealth
Infused Knowledge
Convincing Rhetoric

Scholastic Lore (All)
Scholastic Lore (Imperial Creed)
Scholastic Lore (Occult)
Common Lore (All)
Common Lore (Imperium)
Common Lore (Imperial Creed)
Forbidden Lore (Heresy)
Forbidden Lore (Daemonology)
Trade (Linguist)
Speak Language (Low Gothic)
Speak Language (High Gothic)

Best Craftsmanship Guard Flak Armor (5kg)
Ecclesiarchal Robes
Aquilla Pendant
Censer and Incense
Flamer Pack (2)
Nephium Fuel Pack (Supply)
Void Suit
Religious Text (First Tract of Interlocutus)
Advanced Medicae Kit (+20 to Medicae Tests)(2kg)

Good Craftsmanship Chainsword (6kg)
Melee 1d10+2 R PEN 2
+5 to WS, Balanced, Tearing

Good Craftsmanship Flamer (6kg)
Basic 20m S/-/- 1d10+4 E Pen 2
Clip:6/6 RLD: 2Full
Reliable, Flame

Good Craftsmanhip Evicerator (Argumentum ad hominem ) (12kg)
Melee 2d10+3 R Pen 5
+5 to WS, Tearing, Unwieldly

Total EXP: 7550
Spent: 2550

New Horizons- 100xp
Total Recall- 300xp
Trade: Linguist- 100xp
Infused Knowledge-500xp
Intelligence, Simple-100xp
Weapon Skill, SImple-100xp
Willpower, Simple-100xp
Convincing Rhetoric- 750xp
Note: Intelligence and Fellowship advances are switched


Caerwyn is a short, athletic youth garbed in the gold and white regalia of his order. The aquiline nose that sits in the center of his boyish face is a clear indicator of noble blood, as his impeccably coiffured brown bowl of hair. There is nary a strand of facial hair upon his lip or chin, adding to his already puerile mien. When distressed, his develops deep furrows, scrunching his face into a petulant picture of a child about to throw a tantrum.

The charmed life of Caerwyn Beraht began on the sleepy little shrine world of Filiopa, in the northernmost marches of the Segementum Solar. The first thing his infant ears heard in that hazy, incense laden chamber of his birth was the somnolent hymns of Saint Interlocutus. Those undulating tones stirred his tiny mind to consciousness, and to this day he remembers the pained cries he squeaked when he first drew breath underneath the watchful gaze of the Emperor. The facility of his mind was auspicious, and wholly expected. The murmuring crowd of genealogists put the event to vellum: On this day, 034.796.M41, the Emperor blessed Lord Abbot Geraint Beraht for his faithful service, bestowing up him an heir who might one day be his equal.
Caerwyn received the care necessary to see him blossom into the prodigy he was meant to be. There was seldom a moment where the young boy wasn’t swamped by tutors, servants, and priests. This constant stream of faces and the admonitions accompanying them were his sole stimulation in these formative years. His father, a busy luminary of the Ecclesiarchy, was nowhere to be seen; the occasional missive or parchment filled with well-wishing would come through, but seemed to serve no purpose other than remind his son that he lived in his father’s long shadow. And thus, a poisonous mixture of paternal idolization and bitter resentment grew in young Caerwyn, these volatile emotions pushing him farther and farther into his studies and onto a self-imposed isle of isolation. He spent many a sleepless night wandering the empty halls of his father’s stately retreat, stewing in his own pitiful angst. It was at this time that he first learned of other boys his age, pilgrims who belonged to some esteemed noble lineage that came to Filiopa to study under the Erudite masters or engage in whatever licentious behaviour they desired after paying proper chiminage to the port authorities. Although his upbringing taught him to view himself as above such base and godless creatures, something pulled at the corners of his mind. The soulful, fastidious young man stared at their charivari and secretly wished to be there, wished he could live like they without burden. Something in him started to give.
As the young priest marched towards adulthood, the tasks his tutors began to set upon his shoulders became more trying still. His father, always distant, almost seemed to make a point of leaving Caerwyn adrift and helpless. Could he not see that his son chafed painfully under his care? Bitterness overpowered idolization before dissolving into a child’s red-faced rage. The mere mention of his father’s legacy drove a fresh new nettle into his fracturing psyche. The maudlin youth was resolved to prove his agency both to himself and to his caretakers, and took a plunge into the forbidden he would come to regret for the rest of his life: he took up the study of the Great Darkness, They Who Undo The Imperium. That dread thing men call Chaos.
For a time his studies went unnoticed; the place where such heretical tracts were kept, The Tomb of Black Parchment, were considered so unhallowed no man or woman would ever even contemplate within two leagues of that foul place. Plumbing its depths only required that one forfeit their very soul to its dark secrets. For a time, Caerwyn’s stolid faith kept him pure but even the Emperor’s greatest servants will see their principles abraded bit by bit under the seductive whispers of the Sea of Souls. That tug in his mind became a yank, then a white knuckled tear; his slow slide into madness was set to begin, the foul ones already bouncing in titillation to see such a scion fall into their talons. But that did not come to pass. Caerwyn’s father, ever mindful of his son’s development, noticed his increasingly erratic behavior; it did not take long for all the dots to connect themselves. It was on Caerwyn’s eighteenth feast of the Emperor’s Ascension that he was caught red handed by his brothers of the Order of Interlocutus. He would greeted the morning sun tied to a burning stake if it were not for his father’s vast and respected influence. Instead, Caerwyn was forcibly initiated into the ranks of the Questors Interlocutus, a punishment tantamount to permanent exile. His thirst for knowledge and independence undid him, and his peers thought it appropriate to curse him with both. Caerwyn’s father gave him a few parting gifts before invoking the Rite of Abrogation. Henceforth, it declared, no one shall speak Caerwyn’s name or offer him succor. He was to be struck from the roster of the faithful, and forgotten almost as if he had never even existed.
And thus Caerwyn Beraht, the exiled, the fallen paragon, the young one, ended up where he is today. At a mere twenty years of age he already ruined whatever life he hoped to have on Filiopa. Rootless, lost, and robbed of mirth, he and his small band of retainers drifted northward in an endless quest for a better understanding of God-Emperor’s teachings. Not even he can exactly pinpoint how he ended up where he is now, for each adventure cascaded into the other, an endless stream of profound misery. He prays that his current service in the retinue of a Rogue Trader will take him to where he needs to go and teach him what he needs to be taught. Each completed endeavour, each conquered world, promises to bring him closer to expiation…or damnation.

Caerwyn Beraht is a fastidious, intelligent, and obsessed youth who many consider an insufferable pest. He brings his regimented and exacting upbringing with him wherever he goes, holding others to same the standards of ritual and appearance he holds himself to. There is, however, a kernel of darkness inside him, one that wishes to let loose and sin freely. He tries to suffocate this urge with his unflinching dedication to decorum, but it is a fight he is slowly losing.
Caerwyn Beraht has a small retinue of choir boys and cherubs, a necessity for a priest of his station. Among his companions, however, he has two that he values highly: Aeronwen and Tao Xen.
Aeronwen the White is one of the laity on Filiopa, a descendant of pilgrims who never left the beauty of the shrine world’s soaring mountains and titanic cathedrals. This raven haired, middle aged woman has cared for Caerwyn ever since he was small, and it was from her teat that he drew sustenance. Aeronwen has become something of a surrogate mother for Caerwyn, one of the few figures in his life who offered him some degree of warmth and succor. She is, however, a stern and moralizing woman who is not afraid to chide the young man if he is ever lax in his duties of his station, and functions as Caerwyn’s moral compass. Caerwyn cares deeply for her, even if she does annoy him from time to time with her embarrassing admonitions.
Tao Xen is the intractable and distant body guard of Caerwyn. Her pale yellow skin, dark hair and pinched features marks her as a rather unusual and exotic beauty, a strain of humanity that veers far from the typical imperial stereotype. She comes from a distant part of the Imperium, a Novice in the Order of The Falcate Moon which is itself a particularly clannish order of Battle Sisters. The rapid, rat-a-tat rhythm of her speech is inscrutable, further complicated by her tendency to speak in the vague sayings of her order. She doesn’t seem seem to like Caerwyn (or anybody for that matter) but is still wholly dedicated to the mission she has been bestowed.
Caerwyn never knew his mother, and does not even recall her face at the time of his birth, a rather conspicuous gap in his otherwise eidetic memory. It quietly troubled him during his youth, but usually gave it no thought; it’s a waste of time to resent somebody who might as well not even exist. From time to time, though, he gleaned rumors of who she might have been. Some say she was a Sororita Canoness who, after being saved by Caerwyn’s father, pledged her body as the vessel that would bear his child. Others, however, insist it was one of the Ecclesiarch’s virgin handmaidens who bore the man’s child as a sign of the Holy One’s acknowledgement of his celebrity status. The Girolans, the sworn enemies of the Order of Interlocutus, posit a darker version of the story. They claim that Caerwyn’s mother was a servant of the Great Enemy, whose heresy was only discovered after Caerwyn’s birth. Although discounted by many, this version does at least explain why she so suddenly and completely disappeared. Someday, Caerwyn may find out the truth of the matter…
Enemy (Inquisition): Despite his father’s protection, Caerwyn’s exile still earned him many enemies. The political firestorm that resulted after the fact slandered his father with many salacious tales, many untrue, attracted the gaze of the Inquisition. One Inquisitor in particular, Sir Guillermo Savanrol of the Ordo Hereticus, took marked interest in the matter. Before receiving his signet, he counted himself as a brother of The Girolans, a rival faction of extreme censors and book burners who hated the erudite ways of the Order of Interlocutus and constantly contested their political clout. Despite his new duties, Savanrol saw a golden opportunity to snub the greatest luminary of his hated former rivals. He and a couple of like minded peers have vowed to see Caerwyn fall messily and violently into heresy, and use the political fallout of such an event to hamstring the influence of the Order of Interlocutus.

Caerwyn Beraht

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