Post by Iracundus on Aug 29, 2008 22:46:52 GMT -5
Full Name : Grant Feldman
Alias : Iracundus, Anger.
Age : Mid to late 20s.
Height : 6'6''
Weight : 260 pounds
Body Type : Large and muscular, but with surprising speed and agility.
Skin : Pale
Eyes : Deep green.
Hair : Black, short in the back, with two long bangs that end at each side of his jaws.
Jewelry : One emerald earring on his right ear, from his parents.
Clothes : For public services, pure ivory colored armor with gold ornamentation. For Fist of Naught related business, black with red ornamentation.
Allegiance : Iracundus claims loyalty to Lantio, and thusly to Nillea's best interests itself.
Homeworld : Earth, circa 1944
Significant Trait w/ Quote : "I haven't taken anything that wasn't mine. If you get in my way, your life will belong to me."
Personality : Collected, calm, he has concentrated his anger to the point of where it is always present, but rarely noticeable. He has a gallows humor and takes pleasure in battle, sex, and manipulating the masses to his needs.
Likes : Combat, his loyal soldiers.
Hates : The enemies of Nillea.
Fears : Extremely little. He is too vengeful for fear.
Family : Two dead parents. Lantio was as close to a father-figure he had after that.
Weapon(s) : A menagerie of weapons, from a longsword to various explosives from the Isle of Animu, Iracundus is always prepared for battle.
Magic/Skills : While not a master of magics, Iracundus can properly use destructive magic to great effect.
Strengths : Master of all types of close-range combat, can use stealth efficiently, can demoralize foes mentally, is prone to bouts of rage that typically work in his favor.
Weaknesses : Attacking his loss can harm him mentally, but often brings an even more powerful rage to bare.
History : Born just before the Second World War, Grant Feldman saw his parents die right in front of him at the hand of Nazi forces. Just as he was about to be gunned down himself, prepared for his fate, he was pulled into Nillea. Angered by not being left to die, he was trained by a mysterious force to destroy all in his way. He became convinced this force could bring back his parents. At the age of fifteen, he began collecting more people like him, to begin a group of assassins. These killers were known as the Fist of Naught, performing acts of Nillea's will in secret. It wasn't long until Grant was given a place among the Monarchs, as his Fist had proven to be far too useful. In public, he is charismatic and eloquent. In private, he is cunning, collected and vicious.
Description : Short black hair, tall. Several scars from battle, most notable being the one that cuts the left side of his face, from the eye down to the jaw. Rather large and muscular. Sqaure-jawed, and the object of fantasy for many ladies within Nillea. Rather sexual himself, this feeds his already powerful ego, knowing that he could have any woman he would ever want. May or may not be eyeing Fantasma at the moment.
Sample Post w/ Character : Snap. Brittle bones crushed beneath his boot, Iracundus continued his gaze into the twilight. In the shadows of the forest hid fifty of his best men - the Fist of Naught. His group of assassins, working for Nillea's Monarchs, were the best available. He made sure of this. Anyone whom could not survive his training died, horrendously. Meat for his haiaki, Iracundus though with a wry smile. As he trudged through the raining forest, a lean, lanky man darted through the rain.
"Damn the Rain Goddess to the seventh circle of Henty! Damn her to the Fillaepsodes!"
So quickly did the man fly through the trees, Iracundus almost thought it was a bogey-monster luring someone in. But the yelling continued, and he realized that it was someone from Animu. Someone valuable to his Lord's plans. He dropped his suit of armor, to trade for speed. As soon as it dropped, two Fists were quick to retrieve it. Iracundus was speedy, a shock to many people's systems, but when he caught up to the Animu man, he was met with only a sadistic smile.
"So it's a race you want, big guy? Sorry-" the islander cut off and stabbed an idle Fist, much to Iracundus' shock- "I'll need to get rid of your little boyscouts before I move on to you!"
The Islander picked up speed, nearly gliding through the trees to eliminate more of his best fighters. Iracundus smirked. His Lord was right, this was going to be worth it. Just as he heard another scream, breathing met the nape of his neck. He turned around, and was met with dimly glowing yellow eyes, a trait borne only on Animu.
"Apologize for keeping you waiting, Monarch. I am Mirthil Naya, and a little fae told me you had a keen interest in my whereabouts. I don't hide, so I allowed you to find me."
Iracundus' fist moved in a singular motion to grab Mirthil by the throat. Mirthil let out a strained laugh in response. He squeezed, but the smile didn't die. It wouldn't die. Harder. His grip wouldn't relent, but neither would that smile. His blood boiled.
"I am Iracundus. You belong to to Nillea. You belong to my Lord, and most importantly, you belong to me!"
Mirthil's eyes went dim, but he managed to smirk just one more time, and mouth the word "boom". Iracundus looked down to see an explosive. He jumped with Mirthil's neck still in hand, and could just feel the fire below meet the soles of his boots. He slicked his black hair back as he landed, and felt the mud splatter all over his body from the impact. He carried Mirthil in one hand, dragging him back to civilization.
Alias : Iracundus, Anger.
Age : Mid to late 20s.
Height : 6'6''
Weight : 260 pounds
Body Type : Large and muscular, but with surprising speed and agility.
Skin : Pale
Eyes : Deep green.
Hair : Black, short in the back, with two long bangs that end at each side of his jaws.
Jewelry : One emerald earring on his right ear, from his parents.
Clothes : For public services, pure ivory colored armor with gold ornamentation. For Fist of Naught related business, black with red ornamentation.
Allegiance : Iracundus claims loyalty to Lantio, and thusly to Nillea's best interests itself.
Homeworld : Earth, circa 1944
Significant Trait w/ Quote : "I haven't taken anything that wasn't mine. If you get in my way, your life will belong to me."
Personality : Collected, calm, he has concentrated his anger to the point of where it is always present, but rarely noticeable. He has a gallows humor and takes pleasure in battle, sex, and manipulating the masses to his needs.
Likes : Combat, his loyal soldiers.
Hates : The enemies of Nillea.
Fears : Extremely little. He is too vengeful for fear.
Family : Two dead parents. Lantio was as close to a father-figure he had after that.
Weapon(s) : A menagerie of weapons, from a longsword to various explosives from the Isle of Animu, Iracundus is always prepared for battle.
Magic/Skills : While not a master of magics, Iracundus can properly use destructive magic to great effect.
Strengths : Master of all types of close-range combat, can use stealth efficiently, can demoralize foes mentally, is prone to bouts of rage that typically work in his favor.
Weaknesses : Attacking his loss can harm him mentally, but often brings an even more powerful rage to bare.
History : Born just before the Second World War, Grant Feldman saw his parents die right in front of him at the hand of Nazi forces. Just as he was about to be gunned down himself, prepared for his fate, he was pulled into Nillea. Angered by not being left to die, he was trained by a mysterious force to destroy all in his way. He became convinced this force could bring back his parents. At the age of fifteen, he began collecting more people like him, to begin a group of assassins. These killers were known as the Fist of Naught, performing acts of Nillea's will in secret. It wasn't long until Grant was given a place among the Monarchs, as his Fist had proven to be far too useful. In public, he is charismatic and eloquent. In private, he is cunning, collected and vicious.
Description : Short black hair, tall. Several scars from battle, most notable being the one that cuts the left side of his face, from the eye down to the jaw. Rather large and muscular. Sqaure-jawed, and the object of fantasy for many ladies within Nillea. Rather sexual himself, this feeds his already powerful ego, knowing that he could have any woman he would ever want. May or may not be eyeing Fantasma at the moment.
Sample Post w/ Character : Snap. Brittle bones crushed beneath his boot, Iracundus continued his gaze into the twilight. In the shadows of the forest hid fifty of his best men - the Fist of Naught. His group of assassins, working for Nillea's Monarchs, were the best available. He made sure of this. Anyone whom could not survive his training died, horrendously. Meat for his haiaki, Iracundus though with a wry smile. As he trudged through the raining forest, a lean, lanky man darted through the rain.
"Damn the Rain Goddess to the seventh circle of Henty! Damn her to the Fillaepsodes!"
So quickly did the man fly through the trees, Iracundus almost thought it was a bogey-monster luring someone in. But the yelling continued, and he realized that it was someone from Animu. Someone valuable to his Lord's plans. He dropped his suit of armor, to trade for speed. As soon as it dropped, two Fists were quick to retrieve it. Iracundus was speedy, a shock to many people's systems, but when he caught up to the Animu man, he was met with only a sadistic smile.
"So it's a race you want, big guy? Sorry-" the islander cut off and stabbed an idle Fist, much to Iracundus' shock- "I'll need to get rid of your little boyscouts before I move on to you!"
The Islander picked up speed, nearly gliding through the trees to eliminate more of his best fighters. Iracundus smirked. His Lord was right, this was going to be worth it. Just as he heard another scream, breathing met the nape of his neck. He turned around, and was met with dimly glowing yellow eyes, a trait borne only on Animu.
"Apologize for keeping you waiting, Monarch. I am Mirthil Naya, and a little fae told me you had a keen interest in my whereabouts. I don't hide, so I allowed you to find me."
Iracundus' fist moved in a singular motion to grab Mirthil by the throat. Mirthil let out a strained laugh in response. He squeezed, but the smile didn't die. It wouldn't die. Harder. His grip wouldn't relent, but neither would that smile. His blood boiled.
"I am Iracundus. You belong to to Nillea. You belong to my Lord, and most importantly, you belong to me!"
Mirthil's eyes went dim, but he managed to smirk just one more time, and mouth the word "boom". Iracundus looked down to see an explosive. He jumped with Mirthil's neck still in hand, and could just feel the fire below meet the soles of his boots. He slicked his black hair back as he landed, and felt the mud splatter all over his body from the impact. He carried Mirthil in one hand, dragging him back to civilization.