[hider="Oberon"]
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[b]Name:[/b] Miles "Oberon" Briarheart

[b]Appearance:[/b] The wealth Miles has acquired through the Royal Hounds has allowed him to form a taste for fine clothing. He is an admirer and frequent buyer of fine tailored things and precious jewels. Many of the upper class members of society are scandalized by someone of low birth wearing such fine things and are quick to try and put Miles in his place. Many rings adorn his fingers, most of them stolen from the dead he encountered on the battlefield. Miles has a menacing presence. Unless he is comfortable or watching an enemy fall, he is usually unsmiling. It is hard not to notice the way he suspiciously eyes people, watching their every movement like a caged animal. His hands are most often curled into fists.

[b]Age:[/b] 121

[b]Gender:[/b] Male

[b]Corps:[/b] Hell Hounds

[b]Bio:[/b] Miles was born in the Underground, so long ago that he doesn't even remember his real name. One of the many orphaned by the war between the Seelie and Unseelie Courts, he was simply left to fend for himself. He soon lost the house he'd been living in, and had no choice but to turn to the streets. Although the young fae was clever, he was never the strongest, and was at the bottom of the pecking order, often getting his belongings stolen by the other homeless. The best he could do was cast a weak glamour over his things to keep them hidden, and even that didn't work every time. He was beaten down to his lowest, and after years of living like this, an opportunity made itself known.

Miles had made a home for himself in a small cubby hole carved into the side of an alleyway. There, he was sheltered from the elements, and though it stank to high heaven, it was home - for a while, at least. One day, whilst he was out catching his dinner for the night, a group of humans unlike any he'd ever seen, whisked him away in a transport truck. Longing for something better, Miles didn't resist, there was nothing left for him in the Underworld, anyway. He wasn't the only one, however, he realised upon his arrival at the training facility. Given a new name 'Miles', meaning 'soldier', he quickly settled into his new life. Wrapping himself in his new name like a mantle, he dragged himself up through the muck and the filth and everything that stood in his way.

The Royal Hounds had taken Miles in and immediately became his family, and instructors. And while they were always hard on him, consistently pushing Miles beyond his limits, they also treated him as their own, offering help and encouragement when he needed it most. Miles has dedicated his life to the Royal Hounds, becoming part of the Scout Corps once he finished his training. Miles isn't content with being mediocre at his job though, and is constantly working to stay ahead of the rest of his squad team. This includes expanding his horizons in numerous areas of expertise. Combat training is a routine part of his schedule and if you get in his way, he won’t hesitate to show you exactly what he knows how to do. His expertise however, is weaponry. He loves knives, guns, grenades, the whole works because it doesn’t come easily to him. Miles is someone who needs a good challenge to keep him going, and weapons are exactly that.

[b]Personality:[/b] Miles Briarheart has little patience for pleasantries or small talk, lacking the trademark mischief characteristic of Fair Folk. He has no qualms with making sure the people he interacts with are perfectly aware of this. Miles is sullen, callous, hostile and emotionally stunted, ignorant to the ways of socialising. He always speaks his mind, no matter the circumstance. But, many excuse his lack of social graces due to his remarkable skill at what he does. Every thought in his brain is designed toward his purpose, his goal, and anything at hand will be treated like a tool. If there is any atrocity he won’t commit, it is only because of its impracticability rather than anything else, and he is a very pragmatic person. But, it is not just his skills and dedication that make him suited for his position. Miles is a sadist, inflicting often unnecessary amounts of pain on his enemies with fervour. He has become infamous for the cruel and often unnecessary methods of torture he inflicts on enemy captives. Miles has a fondness for justice and revenge, rarely does he let go of a grudge once he has made up his mind on it.

[b]Skills:[/b] With fae blood running through his veins, Miles has an unnaturally long lifespan and an ability to cast Glamours. These Glamours of his can be cast over a sizeable area or concentrated into a small radius, altering people's perception of it. Miles himself isn't affected by these illusions, and is able to see through them, even ones that are not his own. Apart from this, Miles is also quite skilled at handling various kinds of weaponry, courtesy of the copious amounts of effort he always puts into practicing. Anything from combat knives to assault rifles, he has it all down pat. Just like all the Royal Hounds, years of training and fieldwork has made him quick, precise, strong.

[b]Gear/Weapons:[/b] Adaptive Combat Rifle, M67 Fragmentation Grenades, 8" Double-Edged Bayonet

[b]Other Information:[/b] -[/hider]