Post by CaptainNips on Sept 11, 2013 17:55:28 GMT -5
'Arcadius' Angus Nocturne
» I Find No Peace and All My War is Done ;
GENDER: Male
Age: 39
SPECIES: Human - Caucasian
HOMEWORLD: Earth - Glasgow, Scotland
AFFILIATION/JOB: SWRD Agent
APPEARANCE:
Arcadius stands at 6 foot 3, and is lean in build. His body is rippled with muscles after much extensive training. With his high cheekbones and hollow features, his face is very gaunt in appearance. His black buzz cut hair and unkempt scruff is peppered with gray. His eyes are a shade of pale, cold blue. Furthermore, a rugged scar goes across the side of his face, starting from the edge of his mouth to his left ear. The scar itself is the result of an encounter with a Lourek. Arcadius was able to kill the alien, but not before one of it's claws tore across his cheek. He fought the Lourek during one of his SWRD survival tests.
He nearly always wears his armored agent uniform, padded with it's high tech armored plates and adorned with the emblem of SWRD. The suit is very defensible but still flexible when worn. When on missions, Arcadius wears his black combat helmet, which is already scratched and chipped from battle. In combat, he wields his SWRD assault rifle and his handgun sidearm. The automatic pistol is compact and but can instantly transform to an SMG form and be used with deadly effect.
» I Fear and Hope, I Burn and Freeze like Ice ;
PERSONALITY:
Stoic and imposing, Arcadius carries a calm demeanor wherever he goes. With his stern persona he has gotten used to earning the respect of those around him. Being a grizzled veteran, the few times he speaks are mostly to give advice to those he thinks need it. He is not easily offended, merely shrugging off most insults. Though if one insults someone close to him, he will go off like a clock. Most of his friends are old comrades from previous fronts and missions, and aliens at that. He prefers the company of the other races than his own, thinking Humans are weak and naive. The Human race was also behind the death of his closest friend. Though these traits are mostly caused by him spending more time with aliens.
The best way to gain his approval is to remain kind and to "not ask or say stupid things". Anyone that Arcadius thinks is simple and weak, he will look down on. Surprisingly, alcohol brings much out of him. For when addled by drink, he tends to quote many lines of Shakespeare's tragedies or the sayings of rulers long dead. History and plays have always been a love of his, thinking they are one of the few beautiful things left made by mankind. His thick Scottish accent only makes his sayings more dramatic.
» I Fly Above the Wind, Yet Can I Not Arise ;
HISTORY:
Youth:
Arcadius was first born as Angus Nocturne, in Glasgow Scotland. And he grew up knowing perfectly well that his Father was a drunk. He was never an orphan, but he liked to think of himself as one. Much of his time was spent running about with the homeless boys, a pretending he never had a family. But that was never true. For when he was with the orphan boys, he had one man close like family. The hermit Benedict, a kind soul who would look after the many street urchins. He was like a Father to young Angus, a seer who would feed him and comfort him upon his tearful walks back home.
Old man Benedict also possessed a large collection of books. History epics, dramas, and novels spanning from a several thousand years ago. Angus buried himself deep within these books, find pleasure and release in them. He loved to explore past worlds and stories and relate them to his own down-trodden life. He found vigor in the words of Shakespeare and power in the deeds of the Roman Empire. Feeling enlightened, the books gave him a new reason to continue life in the ruined yet vastly modern Earth. By the age of 15, Angus had decided to become a new man of a new name. He called gave himself a genuine Roman nomen. Arcadius.
Soldier:
He was 17 when he decided to enlist in the military forces. He no longer felt it was his calling in life to remain on Earth, but to protect it Up There, among the stars. He excelled in basic training, and the advanced training after it. He was deadly hand-to-hand and even more so in his marksmanship, his hand as steady as water. His exceptionally high scores brought his own name under the eyes of his superiors. It was near his 22nd birthday when he was finally assigned to his own Corp, a highly-skilled infantry squadron within the Human military. It was mostly called for rescue missions and to encounter foes the normal infantry couldn't find themselves. Arcadius gladly accepted the assignment and departed from Earth to join his new Corp.
Three years later, his experienced group was assigned with yet a new task. They were to travel to the Eridanus Cluster and investigate the area for a Military star craft that had mysteriously disappeared. The mission was considered very risky by their superiors, and they were warned to stay cautious. Full of their own soldierly confidence, the Corp paid little attention to the warnings. Though these feelings were quickly extinguished when their ship was actually attacked. The lasers came from seemingly nowhere and the craft was on fire within moments. The crew rushed about, trying to identify the hostile ship. The gunners shot hopelessly into space, and the pilots turned the ship swiftly towards the closest Planet. But it was all in vain. Hull aflame and engines exploding, the Corp was pulled in by the planet's surprisingly strong gravity. The ship was crashing. In a blur of motion and chaos, Arcadius tumbled inside the hull until his vision went black. They had crashed on Kertman.
Arcadius was the only survivor of the crash. The rest lay dead, burnt and mangled among the ships charred ruins. Some had simply disappeared. But his survival was only thanks to a lone Sangreto who had spotted the still-breathing Arcadius. He was in horrible shape; his skin burnt, his ribs cracked and his legs nearly broken. But the alien nursed him to health, fully healing him within half a year. That act earned the Sangreto Arcadius himself, his own bonded human. The alien was then named Decius, a kind Sangreto who was apart of an exploration patrol on Kertman itself. The two traveled far and wide together, eventually leaving the Eridanus Cluster. They formed an unbreakable friendship, a bond so strong they felt they could go anywhere and do anything. Arcadius did not bother to return to the military, instead deciding to explore the Universe with Decius. But those days did not last as long as you might expect. When Arcadius was 28, the Sangreto was lost. Murdered by a band of radical human mercenaries on Asclepius. Decius had died defending his bond, who was being declared an alien lover and traitor to mankind. In a anger-filled spree, Arcadius killed the mercenies in vengeance. The 'criminal' act sent him away from Asclepius, and far from his old and fantasy driven life.
SWRD:
The time finally came, when he came out of hiding and revealed himself to the military. The Humans were greatly surprised by his sudden survival and offered several medals for his gallantry. Arcadius took none. But above all, they were most interested into what happened to the ship. During the whole interrogation, he shook his head and answered that he had no clue as to what happened or who they faced. "It had all happened so fast," he said over and over. But not once did he speak of Decius, the Sangreto who saved his life. Tired of the constant questionings and award offers, he finally walked away from the military and applied as an applicant for SWRD. His application alone stood out among the 3,000. Sole survivor of a mysterious alien attack, and experienced Human Elite Corps soldier. Arcadius was quickly considered and put up for training.
He was put through many tests of resilience, combat, and survival. Though one of his most memorable tests, was when he had to survive alone on the icy planet of the Lourek. Now, at 39 years of age, Arcadius is a veteran and well-known SWRD agent. He has gained the respect of many of his peers, including from the other ever-suspicious and racist aliens. He captains the starship Regency and a diverse crew with it. The elite group is comprised mostly of aliens.
» And Nought I Have and All the World I Seize ;
RP EXAMPLE:
((This is a post I made on the Warden's Vigil RP forums. It's probably one of my most favorite forum posts I've ever written))
Dirt and Dogs. The two things that Allanon Faucheux noticed more than any other in Amaranthine. Dogs in the docks, dogs in the streets. Even the citizens looked like scraggly canines! But the Orlesian could honestly say he wasn't surprised... for this was Ferelden. The apex realm of all things uncivilized and barbaric. It truly made him think twice on how these ape-minded louts really defeated the Orlesian rule... or the Fifth Blight itself for that matter. Nonetheless, he trudged on, hoping that this city would provide some hospitality to a foreign noble.
Oh shut up, you, he thought, You're not the son of a Comte anymore. You're an Apostate... a renegade.
However, Allanon quite liked his new title... it sounded rebellious and adventuring, something completely outside his typical lifestyle of a noble. He felt he could be more of his own 'charming' self, do whatever he wished and go where he pleased. The sky was the limit. Full of a almost child-like arrogance, Allanon held full trust in his own magical skill... unworried of any Templars who may come his way.
It was only a few hours earlier, in the afternoon, that Allanon had arrived in Amaranthine. He had taken one regal step off of the boat, expecting a chorus of welcomers and a battalion of jesters and dancers. He received none. Contorting his lips boringly, he took in the seemingly dull environment. The city seemed charmless, without light or enjoyment. For every tall smile he gave, he received a frowning nod or grunt in return. To him, from every person he spoke to, the people stared dumbly at his thick and flamboyant accent. Quite disappointed, he spent most of the day sauntering about the city and making failed attempts at conversation. He simply couldn't understand why no one even tried to reply back. Allanon Faucheux had never even left Val Royeaux itself, besides the busy, rolling countryside surrounding it. Thus, the rest of the outside world was unknown to him, aside from his studies and books. Ferelden's people and communities were all but a mystery.
It was on the evening of 22 Wintermarch that Allanon finally decided to descend upon the main event of his planned first day in Ferelden. The Crown and the Lion, the seemingly most popular inn in Amaranthine. In Orlais, inns were always lively and zesty. Full of enjoyment and rich partygoers. Twas the main establishment any rich bachelor in Val Royeaux frequently visited. So you can see why he was rather excited. If there was any fun or interest to be found in Amaranthine, it had to be in the taverns and bars.
The door to the inn creaked open widely. There, Allanon Faucheux strode proudly into the establishment. The man maintained his Orlesian air of authority, subtly demanding the attention of any bystander. His handsome face was gaunt, his eyes pale as a stormy sea. His hair was a ruffled mess upon his head, though dark brown and nearly devoid of dirt. His initial powerful strides grew into casual, balanced steps as he walked further through the bar. His traveling cloak furled open to clearly reveal a rich scarlet vest, laced with strands of golden string. He wore a highly expensive pair of Orlesian riding trousers and boots, light seeming to refelect onto the high quality leather. Lastly, in his hand he held a tall oak staff about 2 inches above his height of 6 foot 1. The staff could easily be seen as a simple traveling or hiking stick, though the way in which the man held it about him showily suggested otherwise...
Reaching the front of the inn, Allanon casually laid a hand on the wood table, leaning his staff hand on the counter. With a mocking flourish of his left hand he spoke to the innkeeper, in his very thick Orlesian accent, "Good evening Monsieur, I require your finest room for the evening." The man looked sideways for a moment then turned back with a devious smirk, "Or your best kennel... if that's all this Fereldan establishment possesses. But no mutton bones for me, please. I greatly abhor those..."
The man had spoken rather loudly in his mocking but regal voice. The Orlesian didn't laugh at his typical attempt at wit. He merely offered his mischievous grin to the innkeep and looked about the inn, his eyes scanning the other customers.
