[hider=Franklin St. Jopling]
[u][b]Basic Information[/b][/u]

[b]Name:[/b] 
[INDENT]Franklin St. Jopling[/INDENT]
[b]Nickname/Alias/Etc:[/b] 
[INDENT]Saint Frank[/INDENT]
[b]Gender:[/b] 
[INDENT]Male[/INDENT]
[b]Age:[/b] 
[INDENT]30[/INDENT]
[b]Height:[/b] 
[INDENT]5’10[/INDENT]
[b]Weight:[/b] 
[INDENT]194.5 lbs[/INDENT]
[b]Home District:[/b] 
[INDENT]Estella Isle, Iron District[/INDENT]

[b][u]Appearance[/u][/b]

[b]Hair Color:[/b]
[INDENT]Brown[/INDENT] 
[b]Eye Color:[/b]
[INDENT]Brown[/INDENT] 
[b]Ethnicity:[/b]
[INDENT]Caucasian[/INDENT] 
[b]Physical Appearance:[/b]
[INDENT]Somewhat tanned skin, good complexion, hair shaved clean off. Overall thin appearance. Oval face with a diamond-shaped jaw. Clean-shaven. Eyes are always half-closed, immediate area somewhat stained from overuse of black face paint. Not too wiry, but certainly not very muscular, although stronger than appearance alone would dictate.[/INDENT] 
[b]Attire:[/b] 
[INDENT]Varies depending on current activity. Usually a mix of casual, weather-appropriate wear and assorted combat gear (vests, knee and shoulder pads, etc.). One constant is his trademark mask. White plaster, old and heavily scratched. Mostly humanoid save for the stretched grin bearing no teeth. [url=http://shadowmasks.net/wp-content/gallery/redangel/redangel2_3.jpg]Image for reference.[/url][/INDENT]

[b][u]Personality[/u][/b]

[b]Innate & Outward Personality:[/b]
[INDENT]Violent. Outright hates meta-humans and makes it known immediately. Extremely work-focused and untiring. Will often yell profanities and insults when engaging his targets. Is noticeably confident in his and his men’s own mundane abilities over those which meta-humans possess. Face-to-face interaction with another normal human will depict him as a somewhat jolly, but still quite frightening man. Displays a considerable sense of camaraderie in his men, especially his adjutant Clifford Briley (also known as “his Dog”).[/INDENT] 
[b]Hobbies/Interests:[/b]
[INDENT]Killing meta-humans.[/INDENT]
[b]Skills/Talents:[/b] 
[INDENT]Experienced in a variety of combat types both ranged and close. Expert marksman and brawler. Knowledgeable in the field of conventional weaponry and armaments.[/INDENT]
[b]Prized Possession:[/b]
[INDENT]None.[/INDENT] 
[b]Quote(s):[/b] 
[INDENT]“You and me. Right here. This is our own little world right now. And it only has room for one of us.”[/INDENT]
[b]History/Bio:[/b]
[INDENT]What’s a mundane man to do in a world full of faux gods? Faced with adversity, he will certainly take it upon himself to retaliate. And oh, has Frank retaliated, all in the good name of the Pure. He is not just some scared recruit who hasn’t even faced a meta-human in battle. He is an experienced killer from his youth, and he makes this fact known to both his victims, and his men. And the Pure would see fit to let him run wild and wreak as much havoc on a meta-human population as he fancied, which is why he’s come to Verthaven. To wreak that havoc. To retaliate.[/INDENT] 

[u][b]Relationships[/b][/u]

[b]Family:[/b] 
[INDENT]He wouldn’t say. Not to anyone he doesn’t trust.[/INDENT]

[b]Dynamics:[/b]
[indent][b]Clifford Briley[/b] | [b]Very Good[/b] | [b]Childhood friend, accomplice[/b] | [i]"Cliff. Oh, Cliff. He deserves a world without metas more than anyone with what they done to him. Him and me, we’re gonna make that happen. One way or another."[/i] |[/indent]

[b][u]Abilities[/u][/b]

[b]Power Class:[/b]
[INDENT]N/A[/INDENT] 
[b]Power:[/b] 
[INDENT]N/A[/INDENT]
[b]Limits:[/b]
[INDENT]N/A[/INDENT]
[b]Weaknesses/Drawbacks:[/b] 
[INDENT]N/A[/INDENT]

[b][u]Other:[/u][/b] 
[INDENT]He is known among his men to keep a small collection of notepads and journals dictating proper ways to eliminate just about any kind of meta-human one may encounter. Pyrokinetics, regenerators, shape shifters, all the sort. He’s joked quite a bit about turning the collection into a publicly sold book.[/INDENT]

[b][u]Sample Post:[/u][/b]
[INDENT]“Hold him!” Frank called out. Clifford and another of the party took hold of the regenerator’s arms, forcing him down on his knees. Another man wheeled over a tank of something and a hose attached to it. Frank grabbed the hose and turned back to the regenerator.

“What’s the best way to kill a man who don’t hurt on the outside?” He asked. The regenerator did not reply. He just shook and shuddered as Cliff gripped his arm tighter and tighter. Frank etched that infamous grin across his face as he stepped closer, looking down at the abomination.

“The [i]inside[/i].”

Frank grabbed the regenerator’s jaw and forced open his mouth, lifting the hose’s nozzle and shoving it down the man’s gullet. He pointed to his man at the tank, who promptly flipped the switch on the connected funneling system. And a thin torrent of quick-dry cement slowly found its way into the regenerator’s innards. Nothing to regenerate from say ruptured organs. But the cement would harden while that happened and [i]oh[/i], it would be a mess then. This was always one of Frank’s favorite kill methods.

Those Pure boys watched as the regenerator squirmed on the floor, crying. They high-fived and shook each other’s’ hands on another job well done.

And then they broke out the beer.[/INDENT][/hider]