Hellis

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

I am of two minds. DO NEW!Kane punch things?

Or do he wield a Gladious style, giant blade?

The Secret World

Darn, Tho think I missed something like this existing.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

_{29 | 22nd of December | 197 cm | First Class.
theme.}

Kain Bradwell

_{A P P E A R A N C E.}

---

Kain is built like a locomotive from hell. He stands 6'4, 220 lb of muscle and grit. This towering specimen of a man is the ideal SOLDIER in some ways. He is physically powerful, athletic and with a a cut figure that was made for recruitment posters. Kain does his best to ruin this illusion by wearing the most unflattering of clothes. All that hard work to keep his body in tip top shape is wasted on ill fitting combat fatigues and what ever he find comfortable to wear. His eyes are a dark almond color, his skin is weather bitten and scarred in many places. His hair is cut short, and he keeps his beard trimmed to a neat, manageable 5'o'clock shadow.

_{P S Y C H E.}

---

Kain is the living embodiment of a locomotive. He has been known to wade trough brawls flinging people aside in persuit of a single target. Coming from a background where toughness is survival, wit is a asset and grudges are kept for far to long, he carry that mindset with him everywhere. He does not let go of a grudge, he do not easily forget mistakes, even if he forgive them. He has a almost feral way to him, that is carried in everything from the way his eyes flicker and his gait is that of rugged street predator. A boy from the slums, he is quick to violence as well.

Kains time with the gangs was one of abuse and abusing. It left deep scars with him, making him naturally mistrust humans just as mcuh as monsters. But he also learned to consider other then blood, family. And he becomes protective of this "Family". So protective in fact, that has spent time behind bars for assaulting a particularly offensive and abusive officer. His temper is nothing impressive for a big man who spent so much of his life fighting, he flies of the handle far to easily to be considered entirely stable and has been described as nearly feral. However, despite his size and thuggish appearance, Kain is very keen and surprisingly intelligent. He is no way a gentle giant but he has good heart beneath all those scars.

_{B A C K G R O U N D.}

---

To live is to fight, to fight is to survive. Surviving isn't living, but it is close enough. - Kain, SOLDIER psych evaluation interview.

Kain has suffered the cruelty of being a outsider his entire life. Born in the slums, he was on the street by the age of five. His parents, a junkie mother and a father he never met, werer hardly rolemodels. He didn't have a family, as far as he knew and before the streets he had lived a life in squalor with his parents. They had to scrape for food, and Kain was a fast growing kid who needed more then what ever meager meals they could acquire. His mother spent what little they had on fast fixes and so Kain ended up on the streets, pennyless when his mother died of an overdose.

It was these desperate years that would help shape him to become what he is today. A ferocius, focused fighter and a survivor. HIs salvation would come in the form of Ortega Maurice Santiago, or Wits as he was called by the miscreant of a alley gang that he belonged to. Part of the Slums considerable underground with its gangs, thieves and hustler, Ortega came across a 11 year old Kain fighting a dog over a scrap of food. When the dog bit Kains leg, he punched it to death, eyes wild a snarl on his lips. Ortega, 13 years of age at the time, was terrified and amazed. He approached Kain, and with some coaxing, the poorly fed but still rather large boy followed to meet with the others.

But a tall, big boy such as Kain was a prime target for the smaller but more vicious who saw a big dumb kid to bully. His first year was spent being pushed around, becoming a beating bag for older boys who wanted to put the feral kid in place.But Kain, as it happened, had a limit. Not sure what to do, he bottled his anger until it overflowed and he beat one of the kids half to death. This impressed the leader of the gang, Merciulos. Mercioulos, also known simply as Merc, declared his newfound foot soldier off limits and began to teach him how to really fight. He also made sure Kain ate well and had Wit teach him to read, write and the basic of math.

Kain and Wit grew close. Really close. Two were all but inseprable, with Kain as the wild muscle and Wit as.. well the wit. Not that Kain wasn't intelligent, he was hound for information and read as much as he could, partly to atleast pretend he could keep up with wit. When they were 15 Wit tried to make a move on Mercs position as a leader. Merc killed him, brutally and in front of everybody else. Kain, knowing he could not take on Merc surrounded by all his goons, would spend the next to years targetting them on their lonesome seeing how he knew all their local haunts and hangouts. Sometimes, he would sustain severe damage, yet he would come out on top. After two years of a systematic fight, Kain finally saw the futility of his actions. Having little skills but fighting, Kain was picked up by the army. At first he only trained and helped with logistics, but soon he began gearing up. As soon as he hit 18 he started participate in patrols under a particulary abusive Officer.

After assaulting said superior officer after the man had berated and verbally abused his comrades, Kain was put in a detention cell. It was then SOLDIER approached him. They considered that due to his passionate nature and his strong will, he was a prime specimen for the project and he was chosen to carry Balils genes. As a soldier, he found a outlet for his rage, and his feral nature and wild fighting styled was honed and sharpened into a form of shock trooper. He rose in rank fairly quickly, but once he reached 1st class, he was barred from reaching commander due to his short fuse, his inability to let go of personal grudges and his quite problematic tendency to lose himself in combat. He was an exellent battleram and inspiration on the battlfield, just not commander material.

_{R E G A I L I A.}

---

What comes to mind when you see the human behemoth of a man is not the fast and agile type. And in some ways, you would be right. But far from slow, Kains style is all about the pursuit of a single threat or target. A true berserker, his solution is to put a end to the threat even at the cost of his own health and well being. Something of a human stampede, you aim him at the target watch everything around him either get out of the way or get trampled underfoot.

_{S H R O U D O F F L A M E S [Punishing, Protective, Passion] Wrapping his fist of fire, the flames climb up his arms to eventually encompass all of his massive frame. The flames sear and latch onto anyone he hits, causing continues burning damage if not put out. The flames eventually start hurting him, but this takes a while to happen. But it still acts as a effective limiter to the power.}

_{I N N E R F L A M E [Vengeful, Rage, Destruction]. For each blow he takes in a fight, for all the damage he sustains, the power in his fists grow and the more determined he grows. His power grows exponentially the closer to death he is. This means that trading blows with him is a losing battle as his punches don't grow weaker by wearing him down, they grow more powerful. However, he doesn't have any means of keeping himself healthy, so while he does grow more powerfully offense wise, he is in fact still being beat down or dying.}

_{C O M E T R U S H [explosive. Relentless. Destruction.] A single target, single focus, single purpose attack. The searing rush is aptly names, as he shoots forward like a great ball of fire, leaving burning trail in his path an knocking aside allies and enemies that are in the way of him and his target.}

_{C O R E.}

---

Berserker

_{A E O N.}

---

_{Balil, The Fire of Retribution
White and Red┊ Destruction, Justice, Temperamental}

Best described as a temperamental embodiment of justice, Gibil does not care about collateral in the quest for punishing those it deem wicked. Balil is described as a massive, towering demon with a charred black carapace with endless fires burning inside it. Possessing six arms and a burning maw it makes for a intimidating sight. Scienstists have complained that it is hard to harvest dna from a creature constantly on fire.

_{O V E R D R I V E.}

---

J U S T I C A I N F E R N A L I S: _{When pushed to near death, a overwhelming urge to pull his offender down into the fiery pits of hell with him emerges. It manifests as four extra arm, made out of molten fire charred black metal. HIs own actual arms are also covered in molted flames and metal as well. HIs breath comes out as scorching steam and his body seem to glow from the inside. Each of his punches are delivered with devestating force and sends shockwaves of scorching flames.}

---

Trivia

Kain has tried to give up smoking 4 times in his life. Each time his life as gotten worse shortly after. He is now convinced there is something supernatural going on

Kain doens't know it, but his Aeon cells burn the toxic and tar of cigarettes. And also light his cigarette for him. Scientists believes this is part of of his powers manifesting subconciusly.

Kain has the current SOLDIER record for bench press, dead lift and squats.

The SOLDIER program also use him as the theoretical outlier for their cost and efficiency protocols regarding food. Or as a certain Sentinel Commander said: "If all Soldiers ate like Kain, we'd be bancrupt in two months."

The old sheet. will update as needed. WIP

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

Iäve come to realize my old charachter was basicly Gladiolus before Gladdy was a thing.

That makes me happy.

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

4 Years ago, Alfheim. The Eternal Seasons Palace.

"Rune. Why do wish to leave for the mortal realm so badly?" The King asked him, leaning forward in his massive oaken throne. Once, they had both despised the way that throne represented missuse of power. But the King of the Isalfar and Alfheim seemed to favor it these days. It made Johan sick to his gut.

“Because the King I love, the man i love see my love as a plaything. Because while I can never be sure whether or not my feelings are ever going to reciprocated by you. When I first met you, I found I was moved by your drive to bring peace to the realms. Now look at you. YOu wear the fancy clothes and jewelry of kings past..”

“You would talk this way to me, your King?”

“I would tell you off if you were the god of all creation, you knew this when you took me as a champion!” Johan all but roared in the face of one of the most powerful Fae alive. His face was red with anger. “EXECUTIONS?! ON THE ROYAL SQUARE? I AM YOUR CHAMPION, NOT YOUR BLOODY EXECUTIONER.”

“They question the Winter Crown, and we had evidence they plotted to assassinate the human champion, that is to say you.” Neuvan said loftily, shooting a dazzling smile at Johan. “I did it to protect you, and me.”

“Then you present the evidence in a trial. You do not drag them out and drive cold iron spikes into their temples without due process.” Johan snapped. He could hear the screams. “Even I offered the frost giants mercy if they lay down their weapons.”

“Due Process? I am the king, This is not a democracy. My kind is not like yours, Fae are incapable of organization under anything other then a fist. The Skogsalvar sit in their damn forests, crying fowl if we as much as touch a tree. The Ijusalfar won’t shut up about their all important magical library and don’t get me start on the Mörkalfar. If I were to give every backstabber a trial, I would have no time left to RULE.”

“You are not the man I love. You have let that crown destroy that man.” Johan spoke in a low hiss. “You are just another petty tyrant.” That got a rise out of his beloved King. Neuvans eyes had a dark storm behind them as he rose to his feet. The two stared at one another, either refusing to budge before Nêuvan sighed and leaned back into his throne.

His eyes seeming unfocused, he spoke. “Very well, Johan. I shall grant you your wish. Go be my eyes and ears in the world of mortals, police those of mine who would make that realm their home and keep them in bay so that we may avoid conflict with your kind. You are bond between me and Midgard, you act on my authority and with my blessing.”

Johan simmered but nodded quietly and took a knee. “In your name, I shall keep your subjects safe and bring them to justice should they violate the royal decrees of secrecy. “ He glanced up at Neuvan who simply looked away, that faraway look in his eyes still.

“Go forth.” The king said. Johan left without another word, shoving one of the royal guards to the floor when he didn’t get out of way fast enough. His eyes were red with tears, and he felt them trickle down his face as he moved towards the closest gate. By the time he reached the gate, he was shaking. His fist impacted the wood with enough force that he felt a knuckle crack. “Fucking Elves” He all but sobbed.

[♛] 𝓡equiem. // the rise of soldier.

OH H E L L O

Mass Effect: Borealis

>Shadow Broker File:
>Recording, Yestins office. Grabbed of a compromised security server by one of sources on the Yestin File.
>Relavance: Yestin / Drono conflict.
>Possible Outcome: Mayor shift in illegal biotic research from loss of Yestin, Possiblity to install a Project leader in his place.

"Alive?!" The salarian stared at the still picture of a bluefaced, grinning Drell. It had come to them by means of a old ‘friend’. And Yestin had been pacing back and forth in his office ever since. This had not gone unoticed by the stoic Krogan that stood on the other side of his desk patiently. Brosk had worked for crazies before.

"Afraid so boss." The krogan said, unmoving as he weathered a storm of angry salarian saliva.

"This is to dangerous. That little shit won’t let it lie either. I mean, for fuck sake. He drag himself to some shitty clinic and survive on pure fucking spite? We should weaponize that son of a bitch.”

“Why didn’t you make sure he was dead. Like a bullet to the head?” Brosk said, approaching the situation with his trademark krogan logic.

“Becouse…” The Salarian sighed. “Because he asked me not to. Besides, I wanted the little shit to suffer. ” Yestin all but growled.

“I never understood that part Boss. I thought you two were close as thieves” Brosk once more questioned. Prodding at the issue with the rhetorical equivalent of a sledgehammer.

“Thick as Thieves. ANd yes, we were at first. But Drono became increasingly brazen and annoying. We were constantly put at risk because his need to be flashy or simply due to his overall insanity. All of that would have been fine, but he had to go and think himself morally obliged to stop me from doing my job.”

“Hm? I am not sure I follow boss?” Brosk inquired, a look of confusion on his face.

“It is Drono thing. I’ve seen the drell crash a shuttle into a hangar door, spacing a odd 15 people without blinking. Because they were all Eclipse merc, he wouldn’t even give them a second thought. He would laugh and crack wise doing it to, like some kind of psychopath.” The salarian rolled his shoulders tiredly. “But I as much threaten some two rookie c-sec officer with torture he would lose his shit. Get all up in my face about how we didn’t do that. Not to ‘civvies’ or ‘good guys’.”

“Perhaps he really didn’t like torture.” Brosk muttered. He didn’t like torture either.

“Who does. No, he clung onto some twisted morals as if it made him any less of a criminal. Then again, I guess it’s what kept him from going full on terrorist. The damn Drell has an anarchist streak a mile long.” Yestin dismissed the Krogans statement with a wave of his hand before turning to look out his window. Below her the rocky surface of some Libera IV stretched out, dotted with little salarian manned workshops and labratories. His handy work, his lifes ambition.He was legit. Only one thing remained it seemed.

“And I guess you, as a natural born Authoritarian, hated that.” His ever astute krogan bodyguard commented dryly, bringing him out of his reverie.

“ When did you pick up a book on politics of all things? Go fetch my dossier on available external assets. If Drono is running around. I want eyes on him so I know when I should kill him.” Yestin scowled.

“Roger that Boss.” The krogan made the univeral sight of “Loco” as he left.

“Drono..” Yestin crushed the glass in his hand as he stared out into space.

The Elder Scrolls: Fruits of Contention - Chapter 1 (Completed)

Looks like it's time for a collab! Paging @Dervish and @Hellis. Do you agree?

@Hank

Yapp

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Broker stared at the soul stone, as it hovered above the pedestal in his home. His shone with unchecked, unbridled greed. It represented a shift in power. A new era. Around him, The circle of Greed was busier than ever, imps and other cretin hopped and skipped and climbed the walls and shells of warehouses worth of old scrolls, magical swords and rune inscribed bone totems. An Appalachian death beak was carted of to be handed to a midtwestern, necromantic cowboy. He was One of Brokers many c-list villains in training. Things were sliding into place. Some of the supernatural worlds most powerful and selfish creatures were seriously considering sitting down by a table and discuss business. This was an unprecedented move that had no equal in history. And Broker was not only part of it but heading the project. He had the idea almost a millennia ago, when the pesky influence of the Arthurian Round Table made pursuing the last of the druids an impossibility. That and pesky, powerful magicians not wanting a primordial evil get in on their business. That very dislike for direct business agreements was what had galled him then. Evil people were shortsighted, petty and arrogant. But no longer. Now it was those that dedicated themselves to the “long con” that ruled.

Now the world could see the profit in working together. If banks and companies could move capital between them to better establish monopolies and grew filthy rich, why shouldn’t those of morally reprehensible representation move resources between themselves to become obscenely powerful.

So much was happening. The world lulled itself in a sense of security, but their greed was off the chart. It fed him like never before. And with Metas crawling out of the woodwork, lowkey magical criminals felt as if they were stuck in arms race with exceedingly more extravagant vigilantes with genetically gifted powers. It was extremely good for business.

“Ah…” He looked at a paper put in front of him. “It seems we got the first real contender for fool of the year.“ he said looking down onto the files. “Who decided to call him “Rune'” Bookers asked as another imp fetched him a goblet of wine. “Hmm. Lets see. He is a Fae Champion? To the King of the Elves none the less…”

He stroked his chin in curious wonder. “Odette is dealing with Titania. So I cannot ask her to deal with this. Gods know she would be perfect to snub some uppity royalty. Where are you headed Johan…” His eyes narrowed. “Nevada? Ah heavens tolling church bells! The last piece!? Does he know?”

He gritted his teeth as he snatched a wayward imp and hissed. “Get me a scrier now. I need to know who is in Nevada and why.” He tossed the imp carelessly over his shoulder as he stared at daggers at the image of a bearded, very viking like man with disheveled hair and a rune inscribed trenchcoat.

When the scrier arrived the woman blinked her blind eyes. “You know it is hard to see into Nevada my lord. The Vampire has powerful friends. And you gave away the last of our holdings.”

“Not now Aashvani. Just look at the weaves. Look for a particularly strong one. One of arcane might. It should be headed that way. Tell me who are tied to him, who his allies might be.”

“I see…” She closed her eyes and her aura flared. “I see…. A blazing storm in human form, feytouched, yes, this is the Champion?”

“Indeed.” Broker said dryly and not a bit impatiently.

“He is a storm indeed. Satans blight, he draws threads fate around him like a Vortex” She said almost wistfully. Brooker rolled his eyes and lamented outsourcing vision and surveillance to the Circle of Lust. But what could you do, Greed scriers were so damn… greedy.

“Yes. And? What does he seek?”

“..He seeks a wolf before he journey towards Nevada.”

“A wolf? A bloody werewolf? In vampire central. Ohhhh this must really get on Barrons nerves. But why that wolf. Last I checked, the mans best friend was a hexenwulf.”

“Yes. One with gifts. One that your big gambit have awoken early. His threads of fate are strong, golden, it grows ever brighter with every fate that is tied to his. A future leader…”

That made Brookers eyes to widen. “Ah. An alpha. That will be a problem. You said he is still growing, meaning he is young. That means he isn’t as wiley or experienced yet. I wonder if the current Van Hellsing would be up for adding another pelt to his collection.” But Aashvani was not done. Her eyes stared into nothingness.

“Where the one known as Rune is a storm, Ben is calm. When they meet, I see.. A Great obstacle.”

“Obstacle? A runt and an alcoholic faerie booty call? No, no I shouldn’t grow arrogance. Pride is not my sin to bear. If they are as you say. Then I guess I should do something before some ridiculous last minute alliance end up ruining my plans.”

“I see the sword in the stone… Fangs of Earth and the Wind… “ She kept speaking, unhearing or uncaring for her employers musing. This got Brokers attention. His nostrils flared, Greed incarnate stared at his scryer. Then he roared.

“EXCALIBUR?!” His near roar shocked the demon out of her vision. Broker had a history with the British Isles and their former king. Under the romans, he was able to turns greed into the cataclyst of mass murder and the plundering of druids. Romans subjugated the lands and weakened the Faes influence to near nothingness in some parts. But the Arthur happened. Hundreds of years later, a upstart with a magical sword unwittingly reinforced the magic of the Isles. Bosted by the the devils son Merlin, England was no longer as easy to plunder.

“Y-yes” The scryer said, clearly understanding the rage of her employer.

[color=ed1c24]“LUCIFIERS BROODING BALLS!” He swore. “That thing can actually HURT me.” Seething he growled. “Blueberry!”

“Yes Daddy?!” A bubbly, excited voice rang out from behind the Scryer who jumped from the sudden appearance of Brokers daughter. The blueskinned perpetual teenager was wearing what seemed to be half a hot topic store.

“What on earth are you wearing?” He said, eyebrow raised.

“You like it?” She asked, twirling around in place.

“I guess it fits you, are you in a rebellious phase? Will I have to kill a bunch untalented moody musicians?” He smiled softly at her.

“No, I just like the clothes. I am a more of a K-pop girl music wise.”

“ Very well, I think I will do it anyways. I can’t stand them. K-pop huh? A music business that truly mass produce their stars after capitalistic principles. I approve. Now, fetch my overcoat. I have other business to attend.”

“Yes daddy!”

Create-A-Hero: A Superhero RPG Season 2- New Horizons (Closed)

Double post