Eisenhorn

Flames of the Revolution - CLOSED-

Name: Alexander Atreides

Gender: Male

Personality: Atreides is the consummate soldier when on the job. Professional and focused on the job at hand, this hardly reflects who he is as a person. Frankly, to most people who first meet him, he is cold and stand offish, generally not liking to deal with people out of prior experiences in the past. He is a nice person towards those he befriends, but he is quick to anger whenever the soldiers who died fighting with poor weapons for the job get anything but the highest respects. Beyond that berserk button, however, he is very level headed and calm, almost always a voice of reason amongst those he finds himself peers with. Granted, he tends to hang back from most during conflict, both physical and mental, after all, his tactics lend himself best to standing off and dealing with his problems at arm's length.

Background: TBC

Soul Weapon: Mk 14 Mod 3 'SW' Variant Carbine (Pictured in main profile)

Powers and Abilities: Overtly, he is stronger, faster, and smarter than average, but nothing that an average human couldn't do. His only unusual quirk, which has only been amplified, has been his stunning and borderline unreal luck. Being able to lay claim to the lone survivor role countless times, having managed to stop rampaging monsters with borderline useless weapons, or just getting the last hot meal of a given day, his luck defines many of his survivals and triumphs, whether he would attest to it or not. Coupled with luck is a natural talent at combat, especially with his rifle of choice, capable of keeping rounds on target without much trouble, letting him keep up with other, more overtly powerful allies and enemies.

Flames of the Revolution - CLOSED-

>Plays Castle in the Sky<

@Pie Flavor

Just as planned

Miso City Secondary: Escapades and Dramas?

You have my interest, certainly.

Flames of the Revolution - CLOSED-

Hmm, I can certainly start brainstorming some stuff, but I just found this and it seems rather fascinating in concept.

EDIT 1: As for group/unit names, a grandiose option could fall along something like "The Order of Grey Keep", or if we are thinking something more militaristic, The Royal Regiment XXIV, cue some fancy nickname for them, Dark Stalkers or Dawn Bringers, just some idle thoughts so far.

I'm thinking a castle suspended by Lumien magic, literal pillars of light holding up a grand keep that the shadows couldn't reach readily, and the same pillars of light providing methods of getting up and down from the keep. Just a brief thought I wanted to get thrown up.

Fantasy's Shattering

Atreides had his arms crossed, and was about to give the elder of the town a response when an all too familiar voice rang out, decrying them heretics and he turned, a shit eating grin on his face as he dropped his arms to his side, one hand resting on his sword, as he looked towards that blue armored fellow. Neflheim, the man was known to Atreides. Rather bold, religiously focused on purging the heretic with that massive damn cannon on his shoulder, all around unpleasant and a fellow he had not wanted to have to cross paths with, not again. This man knew nothing of control, of precision, and would burn this village to the ground if it meant taking out his targets. And that, right now, was him and the clowns he had locked away, for better or worse. Which meant they were now stuck in the same lot right now, and he sighed, glancing to the village leader, and addressed him first.

"Get everyone to a safe distance, this will get ugly before it gets better. We won't hang around once this unnecessary display of force is done."

Next he kicked his heel into the ground, breaking the circle surrounding the demon whore and chains brat. Any other day he would have put more restrictions on the matter, addressing them without turning. He would know if they tried anything directed at him, the dead silence of a standoff made that much fairly easy. He scoffed at the offer of a blood pact, one did not lightly sign into any sort of deal with demons, let alone a blood pact. Blood held power, in the right hands, and he was not near knowledgeable enough in that application to trust any sort of deal.

"How about this, you two try anything against me or Crimson Streak, I leave both of you near dead in a barrier circle in the woods. Let you two figure it out from there."

Without warning, mid senteance, Atreides conjured a rock pillar from beneath the Sapphire Guardian, intending to throw him upwards enough to disrupt his aim, sword flying out of its sheath, mutterings from Atreides causing the blade to erupt in flames once more. It was a preferred talent of his, and he stood, a ball of fire erupting in his hand, electrical arcs bouncing up and down the very same arm, sword coated in arcane fire while he scowled at the cannon wielding enforcer, and he addressed the man boldly.

"AND AS FOR YOU! Take your bullying and intimidation elsewhere. Your purpose is little more than the Imperator's bootlick, grovelling for favor and station while you mindlessly murder supposed heretics and obliterate the villages they happen to be passing through in the process. I know your handiwork, Neflheim, and you are no embodiment of Justice. You are little more than a prideful, boastful hound of the Imperator, and that's all you'll ever be, just to be put down once your no longer useful."

Fantasy's Shattering

<Snipped quote by TheWindel>

Alright, that would make it abit easier to fight him :D

Also, sorry for my short posts but there isnt alot I can do while I am locked up in a dome :P

@Zoldyck

You two shall be free, soon. Perhaps, mages have to be enigmatic.

Fantasy's Shattering

Mal may not like Atreides, but good luck for him trying to do anything about it.

Fantasy's Shattering

We take who is useful, and abandon the rest.

Fire Emblem: Light's End

Jerod

Jerod had been using as much showmanship with his sword and brazen yelling as he had doing real damage to keep the damn fanatics at bay. Meanwhile all the talking and fighting in the backranks showed that, not surprisingly, one man and a wounded horseman were not good line holding material in an open plain like this. Jerod would be having words with the lad after this, probably on better ways to imply to some that STAY PUT was as valid a way of telling someone to hold the line as anything else. The chatter on tactics and plans got a grunt from the mercenary, as he looked towards the best path to do just that, responding to the orders from the horseman.

"Aye, y' got it 'orseman. Alright, y' gits, le's get t'is movin', sooner we git t'ere..."

Jerod never finished that sentenace the way he intended, a whistling arrow embedding itself firmly in his right shoulder, causing him to step backwards, or risk being toppled by the force of the arrow stopping in his shoulder. The mercenary looked at the arrow, and offending archer who was in their way anyways, as several more soldiers poured over to try and stop their suspected advance. Jerod knew better than to break the arrow off, which would not be easy anyways as arrows are built to not break like that, or rip it out, barbs might make that problematic. Best bet would be pushing it through, if the scale he was wearing would not have prevented that on the other side. No, it would wait to come out, and with all this thought in a split second, he glared at the offending enemies and started charging towards Jacob and his newfound harem, roaring in rage again at the first known wound to the group, his cloak and armor helping hide the second. Nothing intelligeable or even worded this time, just one constant roar of rage and hate carrying the wounded but unshaken mercenary into their ranks, the ones separating Jerod and company from Jacob and company, trusting the horseman to do his damn job.

Jerod punched through the, albeit far thinner, ranks and cut the archer's bow clean in two, leaving a rather nasty wound from shoulder to hip across the man as well as he collapsed to the ground. Turning to his left, he fought the two on that side as he left the right flank to Marius, as was the plan. A straight kick sent the axe wielding warrior stumbling to the ground, out of wind, and he left that for the crazy dark mage girl to deal with. He locked blades with the other soldier, before twisting and headbutting the man, shattering his nose and followed up with a clean cut that left his throat open to the bone. A fatal injury, indeed, and he turned to aid Marius if he needed it before leading the group to Jacob, a grin on his face despite the injuries he had sustained, and once he saw Niya tending to the wounded woman he began laughing.

"Lad, w'ere in th' 'ell did ye dig yer up from? An' th' Crimson 'ound no less a' well, yer reputation precedes ye' lass! An' th' rest o' yer grand army, reportin' fer th' line breakin' push, savvy?"

Niya

Niya sat upon her horse, scanning her surroundings when she promptly ducked, an arrow narrowly missing the group and its intended target as it embedded itself in the dirt several feet behind Solanne, having missed Niya and Abra as well. Solanne's reply to her own small comment got a soft shrug before responding, speaking rather quietly as was her want.

"Quite, a tad bit on the soft side though. Mind the arrows."

Niya watched the fighting and struggle going on around her between friendly and not so friendly forces, the Feroxians seemed to be holding the Longfort still, catching glimpses of an old man in their ranks that she did not recognize as one of their own. Probably on loan from this group that were relieving the Feroxians, then, as she continued trotting after Jacob as he fought, noting his swordsmanship was, at worse, on par with his magic, which had proven sufficient so far. She noted that, after cutting the woman and her two friends down, promptly took concern for her being injured, and Niya sighed as she raised the healing staff, stabilizing the woman despite her better judgement. Orders were orders, after all, and after the emergency stabilizing, she hopped off her horse to further examine the injured woman, sighing quietly at the sound of that familiar mercenary bellowing across the field of battle once more.

"She is stable, although survival is not guaranteed right now. Jerod, I would say welcome home, but we're still far too south for that. Khan might not be pleased to see you here, one of them at any rate."

Fantasy's Shattering

Atreides eventually strolled out of the tavern, having kept an eye on the comings, goings, and gossip for awhile, leaving payment for his drinks and time spent there, and unlike so many of the usual mercenaries and sort coming through the town, the Taskmage was one who was usually tolerated more than others, due to his beneficial nature alongside hte profit of having them paying to stay and resupply in such places. But as he walked out of the establishment and skirted down the sides of the road, he noticed something that made the man sigh. That punk ass with the shadow chains was getting in Sable's face, and to make matters worse, some barbarian that reeked of the Old Gods had went and tackled him, which would no doubt start some fight that would destroy far too much property to ever be welcome again. And would bring Sable into the line of fire, which simply would not do. But he couldn't just blast both into oblivion, god knows what the woman would do if she died with that stinking aura of the Old Gods, and punk ass probably had something nasty up his sleeves too.

"What in the blazing fucks are you two damn clowns doing? Making some big stinking scene in the road, let me address both of you. One, lady, really need to ditch that Old God thing you got going, you reek of it, from a mile away. Secondly, if you need male attention that badly, tackling strangers in the road ain't the easiest way to go about it. As for you, punk, getting up in a ladies face, rude and uncalled for. No one sees you big and tough getting in her face like that. Especially considering she cold filet you and string you up to dry before any of us blinked. Secondly, none of your damn business what other folks are doing or why, savvy? Try being polite and not barging into another persons business, aye?"

Atreides was giving his speech all as a front, walking in a circle around the group, his movements seperating Sable from the tackled pair of fools, and outside the circle in the dirt that eventually was formed as he finished speaking, standing beside Meat with his arms crossed and a very, very dissaproving look on his face. The two idiots try something, that circle was one of his dirty tricks, it formed a barrier that nothing gets in or out of, so any damage would be contained and prevent harm to the surroundings. Second, if either of them came after himself or Sable, same deal, and he would leave them to either figure out how to get out, or starve in the street. He didn't take kindly to these sort, especially the kid who was so damn determined to not come across as some weak ass punk. No one cared, Atreides certainly didn't, about what the kid thought he had to prove. The Taskmage had been there, done that, and all he got was a lousy shirt from the whole mess. Let the kid try something stupid, either of them, Atreides had some energy to burn for once.