Post by cen on Jan 13, 2012 16:53:47 GMT -5
HEAR US NOW - - -
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LET THE WHOLE THING BLOW
B A S I C I N F O
★ NAME: Ianto Taliesin Treharne
★ NICKNAME: Aeron, though it is less a given nickname and more of what he introduces himself as to those who haven't earned his respect.
★ MEMBER GROUP: Gijinka
★ POKEMON: Bisharp
★ AGE: Twenty six
★ HEIGHT: 5'7"
★ WEIGHT: 149lbs
★ FACE CLAIM: (New) Dante from Devil May Cry
★ APPEARANCE:
Though not tall, standing only at five foot seven, Ianto is a very fit man, muscled and toned from years surviving and fending for himself. He is gruff, covered in scars and imperfections acquired from a life growing up on the streets, but instead of being ashamed of these, he actually finds them to be trophies of battles one, and thus makes an attempt to display them as much as possible. He holds himself high, with far more confidence than is probably healthy, and it is in this that he makes himself known. Though he may not be the largest man, his body language screams that he is a force to be reckoned with.
His features are undeniably masculine, rugged and cut sharp. His hazel eyes are slightly narrow and always filled with a calculating mirth, set below a pair of expressive brows. Thin lips hide slightly crooked teeth, and it is more common than not to see a smirk gracing them. Black hair is kept short and choppy, cut by his own hands, in order to keep it out of his eyes, and he does neglect to shave his sideburns for the most part, though the rest of his face is kept clean shaven.
He has been mostly unaffected by the introduction of pokemon DNA, save for one instance. The nails of both his hands and feet are short and now, after his transformation into a gijinka, continuously sharp and somewhat clawlike, with a silver sheen to them in the right light.
His attire is generally composed of useful, no-nonsense pieces: comfortable pants, t-shirts, leather jackets, combat boots and the like. He prefers to be mobile rather than pretty, and aside from a pair of pewter necklaces that he has on him at all time, he does not allow for any ornamentation upon his body. More often than not, his clothes are dirty, spattered with blood, dirt, and whathaveyou, but it matters not to him.
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P E R S O N A L I T Y
★ POSITIVE:
- Headstrong
- Natural leader
- Shrewd
- Athletic
- Self-sufficient
- Independent
- Charismatic, to a degree
- Survivalist
- Streetwise
- Tough
★ NEGATIVE:
- Cocky
- Distant
- Hotheaded
- Suspicious, bordering on paranoid
- Self-serving
- Prideful
- Manipulative
- Intimidating, though he sees this as positive
- Holds grudges
- Greed-driven
- Tends to repress emotions
★ HABITS, QUIRKS:
- He smokes, but has the habit of only smoking half of his cigarette before discarding it. It makes for an expensive habit.
- Slightly superstitious, it isn't uncommon to see him spit before a big decision, as he believes it helps him to make the correct choice.
- Since undergoing the transformation into a gijinka, Ianto's diet has shifted to completely carnivorous, in accordance with the Bisharp DNA now within his body. He can no longer process non-meat foods, and actually tends to become moderately ill if he attempts to ingest them.
★ OVERALL PERSONALITY:
It cannot be said that Ianto is a kind man, in any sense of the word. While not purposely cruel, he is the type of person that cares only for his own wellbeing, everything else is secondary. While he may play others and use them for his own means, and he does so consistently, at the end of the day, all that matters is that he comes out ahead. Because of this state of mind, it makes it very different for him to form any sort of bond with others, as he finds them to be disposable. In as much, he has gathered a gang of sorts, people he can keep close but continue to manipulate without ever giving away his own secrets. It is what he has strove to accomplish his entire life, and now that he has things just the way he wants, he is determined to fight tooth and nail to keep them that way.
He is a guarded man, suspicious of what opening himself up to others could cause. In as much, keeps his true feelings hidden away, kept under lock and key and inaccessible to anyone that has not gained his trust. Given that he tends to lack any faith in humanity, it is safe to say that none of his innermost personal thoughts are ever shared. To show emotion, to show anything but steadfast, brute opinion is considered weak in his eyes. He has to be intimidating, fearsome, and above all, dangerous, and that means there is no place for anything ‘soft’.
His goals have been to build an empire for himself, and he is well on the way to doing that. By surrounding himself with others that he can convince to do his bidding, he has become the ruthless gang leader that he strove to be as a child. While he may not explicitly trust those around him, they have become his safety net over the years. He sees them less as people now, and more as extensions of his will. A simple command, and they’re off to do his will, no question asked, and that is what he craves. The power, the absolute power, is what he wants and rarely does he tolerate others that question his motives and actions to be under him.
However, just because he has managed to accumulate a gang does not mean that he is some sort of tactical genius or flawless criminal mastermind. Instead, at his core, he is a petty, overly confidant man. Though his early life was incredibly difficult, and life still continues to be less than perfect, he tends to view himself as on top of the world, an infalable creature that will never be unseated. The reality is that, of course, while he has had recent success, he has become far too cocky for his own good. He remains blind to the risks that he takes, and thinks that there is no way that his empire will ever crumble around him.
The jewel in his crown, however, is the fact that he has managed to illegally procure a gijinka operation for himself. Prior illness was not a part of his decision, but rather it was a purely selfish and paranoid decision. His fear of future disease, as well as a desire to flaunt his quasi-legally acquired wealth, drove him to the operation, and now that he is permanently fused with a pokemon, he feels as though he is on top of the world. Thoughts of Epispect are far from his mind, which is dangerous considering how much he enjoys flaunting his gijinka nature. It is almost completely certain that this flagrant disregard for the authorities, especially a company that is hunting down and killing those of his kind, is going to get him into trouble in the future, possibly with fatal results. What does he care though? In his own mind, no one can touch him.
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H I S T O R Y
- Born to parents that had little means to support a child, the early years of Ianto’s life were less than storybook perfect. He did not come into a traditional family, with the white picket fence, one dog, and two point five children, but rather to a pair of young adults that did not have the means to support him. In as much, he was given up for adoption at a young age, but with the rising fear of disease and little means to support children at the time, he ended up finding his way to an orphanage for the early years of his life. It was not a well-kept facility in any sense of the word, as there were far too many children and not enough caretakers. In as much, even as a child, he was given mostly free reign of his life. While there was always a place to sleep at night, albeit a dirty overcrowded place, and generally there was food on the table, there was very little regulation for the children during the day.
- It was because of this, that Ianto managed to obtain a sense of individuality and freedom during his young years. Days were spent sneaking out of the orphanage, running about on the streets, and getting picked up by the authorities and dropped back off at the orphanage once again. Punishments were commonplace, but they did not do much to dampen his independent ways. There was so much more to the world than what was within the walls of his home, and over years of sneaking out and running rampant throughout the city, he began to learn the ins and outs of keeping from being caught. A dangerous game to play, but to a child that didn’t have any other boundaries enforced, it became his life.
- As he grew older, the confines of the orphanage became more and more stifling, and it was around the age of fourteen that he up and left. It was a foolish gamble, because after all, if things didn’t work out well, he would have nowhere to go, but what was there to do at the orphanage but sit and stagnate? It was rough, so very rough, but throughout the struggle he managed to find a new home in one of the gangs of the city. A tough job for a child, and Ianto struggled through his tasks for years, but it was there that the drive to have more was born. He saw how the leader of the gang lived, the power that he wielded, and for an ambitious teen, this was what he wanted. He wanted so much, he wanted to have the authority and the luxury, and it was there that he began his ascent to the top.
- It was a long, hard climb, but through years of manipulation and cunning, he managed to aquire a small gang of his own. Still, it wasn’t enough, he wanted to be the best, the highest, the most important of them all. He had come from such small beginnings, and now he had people to work for him. Still, there was no rest for the weary: even with his position secured, he couldn’t allow for any other ambitious upstart to follow in his footsteps. It was because of this that he set to work keeping his gang members in line. Everything needed to be perfect for him, damn the results.
- With the position of gang leader came money, and in his mind, the only way to keep ahold of what he had achieved was to make damn sure that no one would be able to challenge his authority. Though he did not have the outrageous sum to afford a legal opperation, it was easy enough to find a crooked doctor that would transform him into something more than human, and though it meant putting his life into the hands of another, he went through with the surgery. That was where things changed. As a gijinka, he was immune to not only the disease, but he was powerful, he could rule over his underlings with an iron fist, literally. It gave him safety of mind, and damn the consequences, and was a badge of his authority.
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P L A Y E R I N F O
★ OOC NAME: Cen
★ AGE: Twenty two
★ OTHER CHARACTERS: N/A
★ RP SAMPLE:
Oh of course Dualscar was always a bulge about everything, that was a consistent that never changed. The brownblood could scarcely remember a time when the other troll wasn’t flaunting about, as if he had no care in the world other to insult and crow with laughter. Even now, charged with drink (and still drinking, how insulting) and in the middle of a godforsaken waste, he still had the audacity to lord superiority. The thought alone was enough to set Summoner’s blood afire, and he barely repressed a snarl as the figure before him advanced. Oh how he would have just loved to have ripped that overconfidence away, to crush it beneath his heel and laugh.
The thought was pleasing enough, and it would do the other troll a monumentous amount of good to have the high hoofbeast ripped from under him. The fire from before was racing, and he merely shifted his weight, providing the best nonchalant posture he could as the other began to advance. Let him come, let him see what he was so obviously keen on missing, let him be proven wrong. He could nearly taste the blood on his tongue, when, like always, the other had to go and ruin it for him. No, of course he couldn’t be perfectly content with his own fantasies, each and every time the sea troll had to rip them away and laugh in his face.
A copper-orange flush of indignation graced his cheeks, hot and quickly dispelled in lieu of the best impartial sneer that he could muster. Of course he had been panicked before, who wouldn’t have been, faced with the situation! Now that they were on somewhat equal ground though...now it was time to repay the sea troll for every shot, every insult slung his way. The comments on his manner were shrugged off, and who gave more than a excretion about the intricacies of how Dualscar expected him to behave. Hadn’t the other learned by now that no matter what codes he would spout, what claims to class and elegance, they all meant nothing to the land troll? Besides, the other had drawn steel first, and that was enough to constitute a challenge. A challenge that would of course, result in blood spilled. He wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Oh, and what steel it was. Gilded, fanciful, gaudy; the resemblance of weapon to wielder was striking. How ironic; he could only roll his eyes at the thought. Leave it to the other to produce something for show, rather than actual use. Pirate time was over, it had been fun, but now it was time for things that were not a complete waste of time. Flatting his ears down and snorting at the other’s insults, this time not even bothering to pay attention to what the actual words were, he let his hand stray to the hilt at his side. There was a hiss of steel being drawn, and he could not help the smile that played across his lips. Levatine, he had named her, and she hadn’t failed him yet. A cold metal matesprit, she was, and he wasn’t about to disappoint her, especially not when the stakes for his pride were so high.
Fine, let the other laugh, let him swagger, let him spout words that made no sense, in the end it wasn’t the houndbeast that barked the loudest that won the fight. Posturing made for a dead man, but apparently that concept was lost on the other, and that of course, would be something that Summoner was more than happy to capitalize on. Of course, death wasn’t the ultimate goal, but it was much more fun to imagine the stakes were so high. Perhaps just a missing hand, or maybe he could clip off one of those fins, just to teach the other a lesson in overestimating his own abilities. Either way, there was absolutely no way he was letting the other leave without some sort of reminder as to why
A slight sift in his weight was all that he gave the other troll before he sprang forwards, catching the other blade with his own and wrenching it to the side to give him room to advance. Never give up the offensive, he had been taught, never allow for an opponent to have enough time to think of a countermeasure. Kill or be killed, that was the name of the game, and though the venom had been taken out of the fight, he was still playing to win. A shifting of muscle, the crackle of dirt beneath his boots, and he was whirling, the blunt edge of his blade swinging down towards the juncture between shoulder and arm. Perhaps a broken collar would serve well enough to remind the sea dweller that it was foolish indeed to doubt the danger of any land troll.
And perhaps that would just be for a start.
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★ template was made for wretches and kings, do not steal ★
★ template was made for wretches and kings, do not steal ★
CLEAR AND TRUE
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