Earthworm Jim

Name: Coyote Position: Vice Captain Age: Somewhere around 85 since the time of his manufacture. Race: Cajavel Homeworld: Omikron IX Physical Description: [URL="http://mcgibs.iseenothing.com/images/gallery/finals/recon.jpg"][U]Coyote[/U][/URL]'s a fully mechanical being with a bionically enhanced organic brain. He sports a human-like physique and wears human clothing and armor. He normally wears lighter fabrics and armor due to his outer body being forged from the materials used to make most infantry armor anyway. Underneath whatever fatigues Coyote happens to be wearing is a being made up of smooth, solid armored plates on the outside protecting metal cords and wires acting as muscles and nerves which in turn snake around a solid armored skeleton. The outer shell is designed to cover as much as possible with as few plates as possible while at the same time balancing in mobility. The brain is protected by Coyote's armored skull; one solid and exceptionally thick rounded and beveled plate. Coyote overall stands at 5'11" and weighs in at just over 250 Kg. Traits, Tricks, and other behind the sleeve maneuvers: Coyote is a master of improvisation and survival, as well as escape. He can make nearly anything into a weapon of some kind. He sticks mainly to compact mid-short range assault rifles, but is equally proficient with his fists and knives when the time calls for it. His reflexes and mental capacity are above that of most humans. Though he can figure out how to work most weapons and vehicles given a few moments, he does not like to drive nor use long-range rifles or projectile ordinance.

"Dear god lad! Did a blind person pick out your clothes for today?" A smile crept up on an experienced face behind a bandanna in response to the obvious hypocrisy of the statement. In the dull light of the bar, it would take ones eyes a few seconds to fully materialize a face followed by a body at the opposite end of the bar where the statement permeated out across the room from; where a few run-of-the-mill soldiers sat hunched over their drinks in quiet conversation. Or drunken haze. In response to puzzled looks of newcomers and amused looks of regulars, the character pressed onward in his act. Besides, if the other man couldn't take a joke, well, screw him. "I jest laddie, I jest." The character said with a splash of laughter. Spinning around to place his foot upon a barrel of ale at the floor, he began making eccentric gestures like that of a gentleman pirate or a stage performer while his accent went from thickly northern to that of a waterlogged mariner. "Ya see lad, aye be Delago Constantine; tha captain of these here waters", the characters arms pushed forward and separated as if using the sea metaphorically to represent the city. "Aye be manning these waters fer close ta tw'nty yeas now, 'fendin 'em from all loikes of mercenries, soldias, and tha usual sack a verim that comes 'round 'ere." After a harumph from the bar regulars, the character bulged one of his eyeballs and leaned rather close to the man at the bar. "Ye wouldn't 'appen ta be any of 'ese 'ere invid'ules, would ye?" The character didn't wait for a response before reeling in laughter, falling over backwards at the apparent humor only he and the other patrons deep in their drink could find. Picking himself up off the floor, he sat down in a chair next to the man, back to his old demeanor and speech as when the man originally entered the place, speaking in almost a hushed whisper. "But honestly now lad; jokes aside it's nice to get new faces around here, especially when those faces aren't half burned or cleaved in two. I be the 'Captain of the Guard' now too apparently, so if ya need anything ya know which corner of which bar ta find me in." With that, the character waltzed back to his small corner of the bar where a few run-of-the-mill soldiers were gathered and sat down. [I]All that was left[/I], he though, [I]was to watch, listen, and wait[/I]. Looking down, he realized he forgot something. [I]And finish me Ale[/I]...

[B]Name:[/B] DeLago Constantine [B]Age:[/B] 46 [B]Archetype:[/B] The Warden [B]Weapon:[/B] Thin bladed Estoc. [B]Physical Description:[/B] At first glance, you would think he's a 5'9" flaming homosexual. This is because he's adopted the flamboyant fashion style of a typical 17th century Landsknecht Doppelsoldner, though even in his drunken stupor he cannot bring himself to wear the hat that came with the outfit. He is reasonably muscular after beating as many soldiers of Dugolma as he has, though not much more so than a typical soldier. He wears an insignia on his left shoulder bearing the seal of the Knights of Destiny, spawning a common rumor that he was formerly one of them. In truth, he wears it because it looks good; he killed one a few years back and swiped it along with the rest of the man's equipment, which sold for a decent sum of money currently used to fuel his drinking habits. Because of his looting habits, he has taken to wear a bandanna over his face to hide his identity. Plus he views it as a nice fashion accessory to accompany his insignia. [B]Combat Tactics:[/B] Ever watched a fencing match? His tactics are quite simple; lunge forward as fast as humanly possible and either attempt to stick 'em in a soft vital point or lop their head off. The thickness (lack thereof, really) makes the blade easily flexible without permanently distorting it's shape or breaking, allowing it to slide easily between armored plates and bones alike. He doesn't even bother blocking with his weapon knowing that would result in the breakage of his weapon against anything other than another rapier, so instead he chooses mobility over protection, wearing little or no armor made of metal. [B]Personality:[/B] A typical class-clown. He will take all openings made to insert some comic relief into any situation, no matter how somber or intense it may be. He will taunt his opponents continually when in combat, usually making it that much easier to stick them or, unfortunately, may end up with DeLago fleeing an exceptionally pissed-off individual. He will boast about his achievements when attempting to pick up women or when asked about them, but not usually on his own. He is a heavy drinker; the reason behind it is much more simple than people will believe. Some speculate it's because he views himself as a failure for letting Iaesel fall, others believe he's lost something dear to him and drinks to forget about it. Very few people realize that he just likes alcohol; no strings attached. [B]How does your character view the way Dugolma treats Iaesel?[/B] He views Dugolma as an adversary he's engaged in a lighthearted joust with. He doesn't take them very serious even with the widespread destruction they have done to his homeland. Whether clouded by the seemingly permanently beer-haze that surrounds him or just retarded, he nonetheless feels he is better than them and will *attempt to* kill any that challenge him. [URL="http://www.springhole.net/quizzes/marysue.htm"][COLOR="Blue"][U]See how much *eyeroll* your character is![/U][/COLOR][/URL] This character scored a: -6