The Deserter

[PerpetuallyAdroit]

Title: The Deserter

Full Name: Denard Dextet

Nickname(s): The Coward of Crossmount

Gender: Male

Height & Weight: 6' 2" & 190 lbs

Age: 14 sweeps

Physical appearance: The Deserter is of average height, lean and thin with some muscle but not much notable about his body shape. His facial features are sharp with a strong nose and a weak jaw line ending in a slightly pointed chin. His hair is short and messy, matched with his usually slightly dirty face and fairly ragged clothing to give him a scrape-y look. He has one tooth that juts up from the the left side of his mouth, visibly even when his mouth is closed. His eyes are Maroon coloured.

His expression is neutral and almost entirely unmoving, only shifting to a look of annoyance when he is engaged in a physical or mental activity or a grin when he is making smart ass remarks or observations. His body movements remain static for long periods of time and he will give almost no visual reaction to anything making it difficult for others to get a read on what he is feeling. He walks with a quick and determined gaunt, his gaze remaining forward unless something specifically draws his attention.

His attire choice is usually limited to what he can afford and find, his garb usually composed of reinforced leather or some other material used for light armour. His jacket, trousers and boots are all light weight and offer minimal protection but mean that his movement is not obstructed in any way. He has a hood but only uses it to avoid those looking for him. He keeps his short blade sheathed and strapped along the back of his belt along with a view pouches. His left hand is marked with his symbol.


Personality:

The Deserter is a sell-sword, someone who owes their morality to whoever pays the most. He has robbed Priests, abducted Nobles and killed other sell-swords all for the payment of others. His allegiance is easily bought and his morality is dependent on who has the most to offer. This has left The Deserter rather cold and cynical, the flexibility of his morals meaning he doesn't make acquaintances easy and when he does he would stab them in the back if necessary.

Deep down he is a coward, a reputation that follows him everywhere he goes. He is too afraid of death and even though he lives a dangerous life if push comes to shove he will flee rather than face his own mortality. He hates this about himself and will often chastise himself about it by restating the shortness of his life span already.

He is regarded as a smart ass by most who meet him, often joking darkly with others about the dire situation of his planet and the futility of their existence. This sort of 'Gallows Humour' has landed him in hot water frequently and he has been known to offend powerful individuals more than once with this talk. He is also very critical of himself and others, remarking on his and their failures in a cynical matter and acting very negative to the almost every situation despite how well it is going.

He can be quite logical and tactical when he is needed, his profession often meaning he need to look out for himself and be resourceful no matter what he is going through. His pessimistic view of things may be harsh but it allows him to always plan for the worst and has saved his skin more times than once. Though he walks alone, shifting from employer to employer, zig zagging between political opposition and sides of wars he truly hopes deep down that he will find a place. He wishes that he will find a cause worth fighting for and dying for if necessary. However he has not found it thus far.

Typing Quirk/Color: Hemotypes (Hex colour: #990000), he often types with proper grammar and syntax. He does not use emoticons ever. He replaces B's and b's with &'s and places apostrophes one either side of n's. He often use analytical or cold language.
e.g.
"The High &loods are as u'n'cari'n'g a'n'd faceless as death itself, yet they still ma'n'age to &e a &igger pai'n' in my shame glo&es."

Blood color: Marron

Symbol: Three Maroon colored arches



Lusus: A medium sized Vulture that follows The Deserter from a distance, watching him and those around him but never approaching. The Deserter uses him as Overwatch, the Vulture will call out when those who wish to threaten his Master approach.

Strengths:

• His foresight in and out of battle
  
  
• His will and resourcefulness to survive
  
  
• His skill with his Short Blade and Telekinesis
  
  
• His easily bought allegiance
  

Weaknesses:

• His unwillingness to sacrifice himself
  
  
• His hatred of the high bloods and higher castes
  
  
• His tendency to abandon the cause he is currently fighting for when it does not benefit him
  
  
• His easily bought allegiance
  

Fears/Insecurities:

• He fears his short life span and dying
  
  
• He fears that he will never find a cause worth fighting for
  
  
• He his insecure about his reputation as a coward
  

Likes:

• Being amongst equals both morally and caste based
  
  
• Defying the wills of those above him
  
  
• Writing down his predictions and recording the failures of himself and those around him
  
  
• Exercising his Telekinetic abilities
  
  
• Getting paid
  

Dislikes:

• Bending his will to those above him
  
  
• People who talk too much and braggers
  
  
• Those who believe themselves morally superior
  
  
• Not getting paid
  

God Tier Title: Rogue of Doom

Derse or Prospit: Derse

Strife Specibus: ShortBladekind

Psionic Power: Telekinesis. It is not very powerful however he has trained himself to be extremely quick and dexterous with it.

History: Denard is a maroon blood who spent his childhood on Alternia training to serve in her Emperor Mistress' troops as a Vanguarcimator in order to escape the usual physical labour that low born are thrusted into once reaching maturity. His years spent serving his Empire were very unpleasant, his low status meaning that he was often in the front lines, the first to step forward and often the first to be mowed down. However he never truly experienced anything truly terrible until his station at Crossmount.

The port was a quiet and welcome station but one incredibly necessary for her Majesty's foot hold in the region. When the area was raided everyone, including some of his closest friends, were brutally slaughtered. But Denard was not one of them. He had learned some time before that the port would fall, the area's location and lazy defences optimal for a raid. The trolls there didn't even listen when he told them, his warning disregarded as 'Low blood paranoia.' The moment he saw the first of their people fall he ran without a second thought, the High Bloods branding him as a Coward and Deserter. Even now after many years as a sell sword some still whisper about the 'Coward of Crossmount' when they see him. A nick name he is not found of.

Other:

[PerpetuallyAdroit]

Bump, for approval.