Post by joegt123 on Dec 17, 2010 13:52:20 GMT -5
Name: Gunlase Maicaleus
Gender: Male
Race: Human
Age:
Twenty-two
Hair: Medium-dark brown.
Eyes: Dark Hazel
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 212 lbs
Handedness: Ambidextrous
Occupation: Minor craftsman, Magic user, Murderer, Maniac, and above all: Mercenary.
Allegiance: Gun pledges alleciance to absolutely no one and has an extremely unique morality. Has no problem killing anyone or anything that gets in his way or.. just happens to be in the area if he's bored or pissed off. And yet he is exceedingly intolerant of certain actions and behaviors that would, for just a tiny... tiny moment, make him seem like an upstanding citizen. ...That is, of course, until he rips the innards out of the one commiting such heinous acts.
Best just to label him "Chaotic Neutral" and get the hell out of the way.
Appearance:
Face: With strong, somewhat rounded features including the dome of his head, eyes, and jawline as well as a very stern brow line and serious look to many of his expressions and a slight tan brought on by various life experiences, two words can definitely describe Gunlase: Handsome and Scary. While the latter is lesser than the former in the strict physical, it is helped by the rest of his being, both physical and behavioral which will be gone over later.
Surprisingly lacking in scar tissue or even much of any casual wear and tear aside from the smoothness of his skin that has been gleaned from smith fires and travel, Gun appears very well kempt. This is usually offset by the careless way his almost shoulder length hair is allowed to sit on his head in any way it pleases. When he makes a small effort, however, he can easily appear presentible and even almost refined.
Body: Gun's body is somewhat of a different story. Standing at a good six foot-one, his torso, arms, legs, and everything below his jaw communicates a life of conditioning and work that easily aids to both above words of description: Handsome and Scary. Quite proportionate, Gun has very well developed musculature across his entire body. Between around a decade's worth of blacksmith work and even more years of fighting and training with various weapons focusing on swords and bare handed combat, there is nary an ounce of fat on his bones.
Defined muscles on his arms and legs show clearly through the skin as well as almost washboard abs all hint at extremely advanced physical strength, dexterity, durability, and agility.
Scars on his body are infinitely more prominate than that of his face. His knuckles and fingers are worn, calloused, and beaten from all his years of training, as are his forearms and even a few spots on his chest, back, and stomach. His legs possess relatively little scarring, though there is the odd slice or scrape from various things.
Clothing: Made for year round comfort as well as protection and flexibility, Gun's clothing is... unusual, to say the least. With multiple layers of both pants and shirts as well as various plates of iron, steel, and hard leather, much of Gun's wear is either hand made or customized by Gun himself. All of the armor he forged himself, and all of the custom tailoring that needed be done to his clothing was either done by him or under his supervision. From his boots with numerous small, rounded steel plates sewn in that allow for both flexibility and comfort to the chest plate and arm guards he wears.
His sword belt is something quite interesting. Designed by him and the blacksmith who taught him in the early days, it has a sliding bolt that locks behind Gun, but also slides out to the side with a tiny bit of coaxing that brings his sword to the side of his hip like any other.
Weaponry: Gun has two main weapons. Both of which are swords. One is a dual edged long sword with a bar guard that extends from the guard to the pommel that is very minimalistic in terms of blade catching ability. It's fuller is dyed blue and black like his armor, and its edge is kept honed. Gun forged this sword himself, and it his probably one of the only things he cares about in the world.
The other sword is a relatively straight forward Elven Blade that is shorter, lighter, and sharper than Gun's other sword. It is kept in a simple back mounted sheathe that is tied across Gun's chest over his right shoulder, beneath his chest plate.
Other than these two, Gun occasionally has a few simple knives tucked into his armor or boots. Usually trophies.
Personality: "Complete and total loose cannon." "Raving psychopath." Two ways, and, really, the only two ways one can sum up the personality of Gunlase Maicaleus. With no regard for life he has absolutely no problem killing anyone or anything. Mindlessly driven to no particular end, what exactly keeps him going is unclear to all, even himself. It isn't power or domination or any such specific thing that keeps him going, rather than simply the fact that he can still go... And so does. Testing his limits, expanding his abilities, becoming stronger, faster, and better.
Much of the time he seems outwardly calm and bored, taking in his surroundings as he wanders, either looking for work or something to alleviate his boredom. Honest labor is one of the few things that keep his focus as they bring his mind to older and better days.
When engaged in a potentially violent situation or an open fight, his demeanor switches around completely. Going from silent and somewhat annoyed to excitable, somewhat random, and assinine. Gun becomes loud, raucus, openly violent... His expressions open up into down right scary grins and he moves with wide gestures. This is somewhat of a halfway point into his combative nature and style. Using acrobatic moves and random strikes, it's very hard to predict where he's moving, let alone why or what he's going to do once he gets there.
Aside from general aggrivation and agitation, Gun is completely intolerant of promiscuity and crimes of similar nature. Where his normal habit of violence is wild and random, becoming enraged at such disgusting behavior turns him into a single minded killing machine aimed at those performing such acts to the point where he wont even leave a discernable corpse, rather than liquified muck and an enormous pool of blood.
Oddly, after such a rage, he becomes extremely introvertive and separates himself from everything until he calms down some hours later. Even if one pesters him while he's cooling down, generally the most interaction you'll get out of him is a full force fist in the face before he storms off again to find a better hiding spot.
Background: Giving birth to him didn't kill her... but it was the reason she died. His mother, that is. Going through child birth for the second time left her weak. She did her best to hold on, but after only a few weeks, it was too much, and she died with Gun in her arms, leaving him to his father and sister who had only been two years older than he. No one blamed him for her death. Not even his father. So, even without an actual mother, life was good. Tough, but good.
They lived in a river town. A river town on a largely turnless river. Ninor, connected to Isenstar. His child hood was normal. Simple. Some education, mostly in business. Very little history. Basic math. No real reading or writing. His sister became like a mother even as one of their fathers closest friends took them in with his own wife and son. That friend was an older man in his forties. He had been a soldier, and a good one, at that. But now he was a blacksmith in business with their father, Gunlase's and Sungale's.
The boys worked with the blacksmith, day in and out from the time Gun was six-- the smith's son was nine-- in both fighting and smithing. "You make your own weapons." The man had always said. "That way you know it inside and out, and, when it fails, you've got no one to blame but yourself." And make them they did. Shitty, useless sticks of iron at first, but quickly they made respectable swords and knives and spears and axes. Smaller than normally made for grown men, but usable. Even marketable, by the time they both hit their teens.
Their skills in combat advanced even further than that as the endless days poured on. The two of them, having almost no one but eachother to train with, advanced with speed that defied reason. After all, since they had no one else to train with, they trained with one another constantly. Training and forging by day, learning and family by night.
Each day when it was time to pack it in, Gun's sister and the smith's wife were waiting with dinner and schooling. Much of the schooling was short, and when those were done, Gun would spend hours into the late of the night talking about something they had made or some new attack or defense he had come up with. She listened attentively, sometimes wishing she could join them. If only to stop them from doing something so dangerous as half of their devised combat maneuvers sounded. She loved her little brother.
The years continued to pass and Gunlase began to notice his sister and the smiths son spending more and more time together. He was plenty old enough at fifteen to know what was going on, and he gave the young man he'd been friends with for the entirety of his life his blessing. The next year, however, before they could be married, tragedy occured.
Whether they were soldiers or bandits or just drunken fools from out of town, Gunlase couldn't tell, but his sister was killed, and his soon to be brother-in-law lost his right arm and much of the power in his legs. He could do nothing as he saw it happen. He couldn't defend them, go after their attackers, scream, or even cry. He was hollow from that moment on for a good long time. Long enough a time for his father to die of grief and the smith's son to retreat from the world entirely in his room in the top level of his parent's home.
It's unclear even to Gunlase what went on in the recesses of his mind for the year that he barely moved an inch, but something changed in him. Eventually, things just started dying around him. Grass, insects, small animals. Including the brother he never had a chance to have. He became almost rabid. Violent. Uncaring for much of any one or anything. He almost killed a village man with his bare hands before a hard slap from the smith's wife brought him back a small degree. For several months thence, he lost himself entirely in the forges. The black smith was too old, now to continue his work, and so Gunlase did it for him. Days on end he'd seem to be at the fires. Little did they know what he did at night after the fires were to be put out. They sold to local traders and so kept afloat, but Gunlase grew distant again.
Those nights, alone, Gunlase left the village. Retreating to small groves of trees and the river side. His mind had changed, and he knew it. Those things the previous year hadn't just died. He killed them, and he was learning how. Somehow, the death of his sister triggered a crack in the shell that led to the store of magic energy that every living being possesses. A crack that he now saw no need to fill as he could feed off of the energy of other living things by using that power, and then use it to do amazing things. Lift rocks without touching them, jump dozens of feet in the air, even conjure orbs of pure light and energy with amazing destructive power.
To his care, few people noticed this ability of his. Those that did, however, died just as his brother-to-be had when he had seen a perfectly healthy dog drop cold-dead at Gunlase's feet.
Gunlase was now twenty, and in as perfect a mastery of the abilities he had discovered as he could have dreamed. Returning to the forge one morning without having slept at all, he started the fires and worked as the madman he had become through the whole day and subsequent night, forging a masterpiece of a sword. Dual edged, a wide longsword that was light enough for one handed wielding, yet held the size and capacity to be wielded in two hands.
Finally completed, he left the forge with the weapon in hand, and promptly passed out at the foot of the door to the house. There he slept for two days before waking and returning to the forge without uttering a word. Over the next week, Gunlase forged himself several pieces of armor for various points on his body. The only words he spoke were orders to the town seamstress and carpenter, making a sheathe and clothing for Gunlase that would encompass his new armor and weapon.
When the outfit was finally completed, he returned home exhausted once again. When the old smith demanded to know what was going on, Gunlase said only this: "I had a vision of this sword and armor. They needed to be made. Demanded it." There was some issue with the sword belt as Gunlase had made it, however, and so the old smith, as a tribute to one of the last remnants of his family, helped Gunlase design and forge the slide system that his sheathe and sword belt rely on.
From then on, things returned to a small modicum of normalcy-- Gun working in the forge by day and venturing out of the village for some practice in his powers and, now, combative skills, by night-- and life seemed to be good again. Well... as good as it could be with half of their pieced together family dead and gone.
The following year, however, another 'event' happened. Surprisingly, it was not Gun's fault, this time. Some strange people had arrived. An elf and an escort of human fighters. They claimed to be part of the Dragon Riders. That they had come for Gunlase. That they knew of his magical talents.
More unwilling to cooperate than any magical human that this Elf had ever come across, Gunlase caught him and his entourage by surprise, killing them all in a vicious torrent of violence. Truly, the only way Gunlase had so much as survived the ensuing fight, let alone dominating the six trained guards and the respectably powerful Elven Magician Rider Prospective was because of the utter surprise he'd taken them by.
Once they were all dead and Gunlase had himself a shiny new elven sword to call his own, the old smith, who had appeared in the ensuing battle to assist the boy he'd helped to raise, approached him warily. "Gunlase." The man twitched back as Gun's blood stained face flicked towards him. "Y-...You know this means you'll have to leave, right?"
"...Yeah." He said in a plain tone of voice after a few tenuous moments.
Gunlase packed up his things after a quick cleaning of his armor and weapons and left the small river town. Since then, Gunlase has been wondering from town to town, village to village, absorbing energy where he needed or wanted it, taking odd jobs as both a blacksmith and a mercenary.
Magical Abilities: Gunlase knows nothing of the ancient language or the more petty laws of magic as imposed by man or elf since the days of it's creation. Instead, Gunlase almost intuitively taps into his magic to perform feats that most magicians would consider highly taboo. With no regard for life, human, elf, animal, or otherwise, Gunlase connects to nature on the telepathic level and callously absorbs the life energy from his surroundings when he feels and knows he needs more energy to complete a task or when he takes down an enemy of his employer, eating their life force and making himself stronger in the process. Without the use of the ancient language, the use of these abilities was more than arduous to so much as get a hold of.
Gun also only has an extremely basic understanding of telepathy and mind invasion. Such that he can both reach out and defend himself, but not efficiently. His mental attacks, on the other hand, are ferocious, if very unrefined. With no formal training, however, anyone with significant training in mental defense can resist his attacks.
Gun's skills with magic thus far lay only in utilizing energy absorbed to enhance his physical abilities well beyond human levels. Abilities which are already near peak human form. However, the body is an imperfect storage space for extra energy, meaning that absorbed energy will disappate greatly over time to return to normal energy levels, leaving only a minute expansion of reserves, leaving him just a little bit stronger each time he absorbs a significant amount of energy.
Roleplaying Sample: ((This really isn't a fair example of average posts of mine, though it is roughly about the size and quality of something I'd post if sufficiently inspired. It is also a more detailed piece of his history. I think you can figure out where it fits =P))
"The riders can help you control your abilities. To learn The Ancient Language and become a powerful magician, like myself." The Elf arrogantly said as he stood there with his entourage.
Half surrounded by men, Gunlase grinned. He knew a little about these coward riders, but he hadn't the smallest clue of what else this pointy-eared bastard was on about. Magic? Did such a thing really exist? It would explain what he could do, but really? And this Ancient Language? What is that? He chuckled. Quietly at first, then louder and louder until Gunlase's raucus and maniacal laughter echoed throughout the whole of the town.
The guard of the elf and even the elf himself were clearly unnerved by the laughter as it faded away slowly, leaving Gun still standing there, occasionally convulsing with hysteria. "I-... I'm sorry-.. Actually, no. I'm not sorry." His laughter had suddenly ceased and a curious look reached across his face. "You seem laboring under the mistaken impression-" The amused grin returned, teeth bared in a frightening manner. "-that I actually give a fuck what you have to say." His arms moved widely with his speech and his head bobbed and tilted in a strange manner.
"E-..Excuse me?" The elf stammered, clearly taken quite far aback.
"No. I will not excuse you...." Gunlase responded curtly, the amused attitude and wide motions suddenly lost. Sighing slightly after the elf said nothing, merely stammering for several moments... "Here, let me spell it out for you..." Odd choice of words considering the one who spoke them couldn't really read, let alone spell. "Fuck you. Fuck your magic. Fuck your ancient language. And fuck the Riders!" His movements became more animated, jerky, and agitated until he was literally screaming at the lot of them.
A split second after he finished cursing out the Elven Emisary of the Riders, Gunlase exploded in a torrent of movement that even the trained Elven Magic user could nary predict, let alone was ready for. The motion ended with the elf having two splintered ribs from a ferocious kick to the chest and a hand that was beyond normal human ken crushing down on his throat. His mental defenses had suddenly been overwhelmed in an unbelievably sudden and vicious assault, and his life energy was being drained from him.
In seconds, the Elf was dead, and the guards sprung into action all too late. Gunlase's sword was ripped from it's sheathe on his hip by Gun's right hand and the Elf's sword was ripped from his dead and drained hip with Gun's left. In a whirling torrent of action that put even the previous maneuver to shame as Gun had just absorbed an enormous amount of energy from the elf, who truly was significantly powerful, Gunlase disemboweled two of the guards and planted a sharp kick upside the head of a third that sent him sprawling across the ground, unable to move anything properly for several seconds. Enough time for Gunlase to absorb the energy from the two guards he'd gutted and pounced on the one that had been knocked down.
Keeping the man pinned with his right knee and the elven sword, which he drove through the man's fighting arm, pinning it to thr ground, Gunlase stabbed him unrelentingly in the chest and neck. All the while, Gun's laughter had returned, broad, echoing, and frightening. Such frightening and unnerving laughter that the remaining guards had faltered. After Gunlase had finished bathing in the blood of their comrade, one haltingly advanced, gaining a degree more confidence with each step until he managed to swing his pike across Gun's face, sending him sprawling.
After rolling in the dirt for a moment, Gun was back on his feet, a gash on his cheek near his eye that brought his own blood into the mix. Grinning wildly, Gun's laughter broke out once again. "Ahh, a challenge! I was beginning to think all you rider drones were useless piles of shit!" That was enough to provoke the three remaining guards. The pikeman who struck Gun was the first to reach the enhanced human. A spear was no weapon to fight against two swords, however. When the escort guard reached the psychotic combatant, his spear was suddenly redirected by a quick swipe of the elven sword, glancing off to the left as Gunlase shifted right. Gunlase had lose the advantage of surprise when he'd pounced on and took his time dispatching the third guard. But with only three men remaining, it wasn't something he needed.
Gun traced the elven sword down the length of the pike as he charged on the man. A second later, Gun's longsword passed through the man's neck and his body dropped to the ground. At the same time, the further guard of the remaining two suddenly fell to the ground. Behind him stood the old black smith, a sizable iron hammer in his grasp and a fierce, if frightened, look on his face. The final guard stopped short, turning back to look at his fallen comrade and the old man who had knocked him out. The poor bastards face was indecisive. He had two targets, but only one sword. The indecision lasted long enough for Gunlase to hurl his blade across the sudden battlefield in the village and pierce the chest of the last Escort Guard.
The man dropped to the ground even as Gunlase made to absorb the residual energy from the beheaded guard and marched across the field to finish the unconscious Guard and end the melee. It wouldn't do to have one of them report back to the Riders. Not in the least.
