Alaric the Totally Not Mad
Withered but jolly old psyker of terrifying power.
“I have every confidence in the wisdom of the Inquisition.”
Alaric is, by all appearances, a simple, even-tempered old man running a humble rug business down in the poor quarters. In truth, however, he is a psyker in service to the inquisition. Alaric remembers nothing about his own past – his earliest memory is waking up in a bright white room, a tech-priest retracting his scalpel as a stern-faced Inquisitorial representative informed Alaric of his situation. He is mind-cleansed, his previous life and deeds washed away by drugs and surgery. Though the reasons for his cleansing are unknown to him, the dark shapes constantly clawing at his subconscious tell him all he needs to know, and he is thoroughly grateful to the Inquisition for saving him from whatever unspeakable horror rendered him unfit for duty the last time around. Truthfully, he does not wish to know what happened.
The pain in his bones and the scars on his body tell a tale of a long and arduous life – the life of a loyal acolyte, Alaric hopes. Though grateful, he knows full well that his life was spared only because of what he is; his handlers did not mince words when they told him of his status as a vile but necessary psyker, and of far greater power than the average specimen. His brain is impenetrable to mind readers, and between his own inhuman willpower and the engrammatic wards created by his hypno-indoctrination, his mental resistances vastly outstrip those of the common man. That is why he is allowed to serve Humanity, and he would rather fall on his own blade than fail again.
For the last couple of years, Alaric has waited patiently to be called into service, managing his tiny market stall as a front for his Inquisitorial information gathering – not that his peaceful home street yields much in terms of that.