Asino (Ah-See-No) A region in the south eastern corner of the main continent, where the capital of the republic lies.
Some years before Alexander came into power, Alfred Kingston was a respected, and well liked politician within the republic. He represented a small country to the south east, its population was decent and law abiding, Alfred had been elected to “Clean up” the region and he preformed admirably. Soon a young Alexander came onto the scene, and Alfred agreed with his ideals, a world wide republic, where all would be accepted, and there would be common law, unifying the world, not just the prosperous mainland countries. Peace was assured under Alexander, and it was because of this, the prospect of the people being able to live peaceful lives, the prospect of the betterment of man kind that Alfred aided and supported Alexander in his rise to power. For a time, everything had gone according to plan, Alexander was an adept speaker and the public rallied behind him, even when he called for a vote to expand his political power. The people thought this would surely allow him to reign over the republic , and all countries within it fairly, the politicians saw it as an opportunity to unify the world, once the republic was a singular unit. Alexander was then granted powers over the entire mainland, however his means would not justify the ends. Alexander began to run rampant with peaceful ideals soon turned to violence, conquering all that he could. Alfred would then claim independence from the republic, and his country along with it. As other countries crumbled under Alexander’s iron fist, Asino remained strong, though not as prosperous as it had been, leaving the country to re-invent themselves, as the republic would not allow trade. Alfred’s son, Alec who was at the time a young man at the age of 17, was fashioned to rule Asino, in the event that Alfred would become unfit to rule for any reason. Time passed, and the republic kept its eye on Asino, though there was never any conflict. Then, one day, Alfred suddenly passed, unexpectedly. Alec, in his youth had been a rebellious man, and had toured underground fighting rings gaining much respect and fame amongst those who were in such circles. He would also become both a boxing and wrestling champion. However even during this, he studied his fathers craft of leadership. Alec was twenty when his father passed, leaving Asino to him. His father was not even cold in the ground, and Alexander’s lap dogs came to Asino’s door, declaring that Alec was obligated to return control of the area to President Alexander. Asino, which had become a beacon of hope to those who would not bend to Alexander’s will would be finally stamped out diplomatically. The meeting was televised to all corners of Syrias, it was to be a great day for the republic, world unification, all it required was Alec’s signature. Alec took the pen, and pressed it to the parchment, though deep in thought, he paused. One of Alexander’s representatives then made a comment, a comment which would shape the future. Alec had originally considered signing the treaty to protect his people, though he had never fully accepted his idea, as his father governed his people well. The representative said calmly, “Thank you Mr. Kingston, you are surely not a traitor as your father was.” There was a pause. The insult was blatant, as if the representative was flaunting his authority over Alec. For some time, Asino’s government was called “The Royale” signifying their status, and simply because Asino had become a massive, self sufficient casino of sorts. The republic knew all of them, as under Alfred’s rule no secrets has been kept. Alec scrawled across the line requesting his signature, before folding the paper gently, placing the pen on top and rising, he nodded his head. “True, I’m not the man my father was.” The citizens of Asino, and all those who sought to oppose Alexander let out a sigh of disappointment as Alec rose from signing the paper. The representative opened the paper to check the signature. Those around began to clap, as the representative face became confused. “What is the meaning of this, Kingston?” Alec lunged at the man and punched him in the jaw. “Means the next time you think about smartin’ off, you’ll have a goddamn broken jaw. Get the fuck out of my country. You bastards ain’t getting shit” This too was televised, as the guards would approach Alec as others left the scene, including the representative. The cameras continued to roll and broad cast, the republic to show what happened to those who were belligerent, the resistance to see the leader’s Mettle, and Asino to determine whether their new leader would back down. The broadcast was nearly cut short however, and one of the guards were thrown into the camera area, knocking them all over, breaking most. However one camera kept recording, which fed directly into the capital. The side-ways images showed the guards on the floor, and the head of Asino straightening his suit before turning away. “Get that trash outta here.” The peace broken, it would usher in a flood of people to Asino, many to escape Alexander and the republic. Few disagreed with Alec’s actions, for what ever reason, and Alec immediately began to completely fortify his country, with a seeming never ending flood of volunteers. Alec then changed the government, none were known by their real names, merely by a card name, signifying their rank. These ranks were divided into four sects, Spades, Diamonds, Clubs and Hearts, each controlling a piece of Asino’s running. The spades were executives and politicians, the diamonds were over the economy, the clubs over enforcement, and the hearts entertainment. In a matter of days Asino was reformatted. It became prosperous. It became powerful. And Alexander saw it as the biggest threat to him. For al practical purposes, Asino was now the spiritual home of the rebellion that was already beginning to muster. For the next several years Alexander’s goal would be to take Asino, however every attempt would fail. The army of asino was on par with his own, and with every failure, all his surviving soldiers were kept at asino, as indentured servants, performing all of the lower labors of asino. Then, thanks to Alec, they would be allowed to live in asino in peace with full rights, and many of them would, forgotten by the republic.
In short, present day Asino was made self sufficient, there are four sects to the Royale, determining their status and the work they do. The Spades are executives and 'guards' , the Clubs make up the military and law enforcement, whilst the Diamonds are bankers and business owners. Where as the Hearts are in control of recreation and entertainment. Each suite has a leader, known as the 'Ace' who commands their suite, Alec, Ace of spades, 'Clobber' Ace of Clubs, Sinatra Ace of Diamonds and Leigh the Ace of Hearts
Well, thats all you get for now, Asino will be where the first arc of the story happens, and of course it becomes vital later on, hope you guys enjoyed the glimpse of Alec as a character. Hopefully we'll have something better for you soon, Maelstrom is in the process of drawing the characters so that you guys can see them, then Our updates will have a little more too them, maybe a few more images, more things about the universe in general, more locations and of course more people.
- The Spade
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Argotte: Gangland
Here we go. A little preview of things to come. Something I wrote on a whim a while ago. I believe it's been almost two years since I first put this story to virtual-paper actually. Here ya go:
Marcus couldn't help his reaction at what he saw in front of him: Civilization. He smiled...
Well, he smirked at least, which is the best he could manage with all the frown lines permanently engraved into his face. Something about the bright and sunny atmosphere of the small town of Argotte made him feel content despite his current predicament. He had just left the megalopolis Xanflux not three hours ago, and he decided a leisurely stop through the satellite village wouldn't be such a terrible idea. After all, lately it was all Marcus could do to find time for a moment of rest amidst the madness. Aurora and the others split paths with Marcus only a day ago, and yet their safety weighed heavy on his thoughts. Sure, Ace was the most imposing figure he'd ever seen on two legs, and the other two were the furthest from push-overs that you could possibly imagine. Still, Marcus felt pangs of worry ever since their separation, especially after he'd had a run in with some of President Alexander's men. No Knights, luckily - but then again maybe the Knights just went after the larger group.
Whatever...
Marcus did the only thing he could - he stopped thinking about it and dropped by one of the local pubs for a bite to eat. The only indication that the small one-story wooden shack wasn't abandoned was the superfluous amount of smoke billowing up out of the windows of the place. Like something out of an ancient spaghetti western, the joint had rotted batwing doors that looked like they might fall off of the hinges if the winds picked up too much. Either way, Marcus was hungry and the food within, he imagined, had to be cheap.
Cautiously, Marcus took his first step inside and glanced around before walking in. The first thing that was immediately evident was the source of all of that smoke. The place wreaked of cigarettes and ashes practically covered the tables as if the patrons inside had never heard of an ashtray. Marcus took it all in - what he could make out through the smoke at least - as he moved to the bar and sat down. To accentuate the already inviting decor - more rotted wood on the walls and floors, chipped paint everywhere with unrecognizable stains, and a leaky ceiling with only the dimmest of lighting - there was some dried puke in the far corner of the building under a table where a couple of rough looking guys were engaging in an arm-wrestling competition. One of the men eyed Marcus briefly as he looked around, giving off something that wouldn't accurately be described as a friendly vibe.
"I'll have the pastrami on rye with some ice water," Marcus called to the server as he settled in, deciding to mind his own business for the greater good.
He was acknowledged with a nod by the tanned, bushy haired man at the counter, who was fiddling a toothpick around in his mouth full of dark yellow teeth. It was hard to get a good look at the man through the "atmosphere", but that was probably a good thing considering the fact that Marcus was about to be eating.
As he ate Marcus considered what he'd need for the remainder of the solo portion of this trip. The group had agreed to meet up in Kalimthras, but that was still days from here - well, days on foot. But Marcus had no choice other than to travel on the ground as he tried to keep a low profile for the moment. The others were most likely going by train and boat, and at some point Marcus would need to find alternate forms of transportation to overcome the obvious obstacle of the ocean, but not yet.
Marcus reached into his wallet after taking his last bite of food and, with a groan of unpleasant surprise, pulled from it what little money he had left.
He threw his last five Republic silver coins on the bar and left in search of a place to sleep. The sun was going down and to travel through the forests leading to shore would be ridiculous with all of the creatures that come out in the pitch-black of night. Marcus cringed at the thought. Tree ants were the only thing that even remotely scared him, and they were indigenous to nearly any forested area on Syrias.
Marcus stepped into the only inn in town. The attendant was napping. Marcus smirked and crept past silently, creeping upstairs and into an unoccupied room virtually noiselessly. If he could leave early enough in the morning, no one would ever know and he'd have had a free nap. If not, then a messier - but still free - nap. The place was no five star establishment for sure, but the creaky floors and roach-ridden sheets would have to do. After hitting the bed, it only took Marcus a second to pass out. He didn't even bother to take off his boots.
---- Sometime later that night ----
Marcus awoke with a start. His peaceful slumber was interrupted by a loud noise...the distinct pop of small arms fire rang out from somewhere outside. Marcus rolled out of bed feeling groggy, rolling his neck to get rid of the uncomfortable tightness, and stumbled weakly to the window to look around below. His eyes widened immediately at what he could make out through the fog of sleep.
In an alleyway beside the inn, a man in a suit lay dead - his body was riddled with bullet wounds decorated with spatters of crimson - with a small group of young thugs crowded around him. They all wore black bandannas or ski masks, and carried automatic weapons. One was crouched down, searching the fresh corpse for valuables, as the others quietly joked and talked amongst themselves. All were huddled closely around the corpse, waiting to see the spoils of their work.
Marcus seethed with anger. He'd seen this sort of tough-guy posturing before. Intimidating the weak was never impressive, but thugs like these thrived on it. Marcus could only shake his head as he slid the window open.
"Hey motherfucker, not so rich now are ya?!"
The gang roared with laughter as their ski-masked leader slapped the lifeless man on the cheek before rising to his feet, pocketing the credit cards and cash from the victim's wallet.
"Let's get out of..."
A man stumbled out from behind the inn and grabbed the gang leader by the shoulders to lift himself back up, staggering backward and chuckling, evidently intoxicated. The gang leader shoved the drunk man and swiftly pulled a knife from his hip and drove it deep into the man's arm.
That was it.
Suddenly Marcus looked up into the thug's eyes, his gaze cold and filled with hate. The miming of a drunken stupor was replaced instantly by a rigid and aware state to further illustrate and accompany the anger in his eyes. Marcus gripped the hand of the gang leader that was being used to hold the knife and squeezed. With a series of loudly audible snaps, bones were broken and the leader howled in pain as Marcus growled and twisted the knife deeper into his wound before releasing the thug's broken hand. The gangster stumbled back, and before he could blink Marcus wrenched the knife free from his arm with a painful wince and threw it with startling accuracy, hitting his target right between the eyes. With a thud, the lifeless body of the gang's former leader hit the ground, and Marcus let out a bloodthirsty roar.
"The rest of you lowlifes want some!!??"
Every single man raised his weapon and readied it to fire as one stepped forward to speak.
"Who do you think you're messing with, punk? We OWN this town! Let's see you fight a gun!" the man taunted as the gang responded with an uproar of obscenities.
Marcus grinned. "You bring up a good point. Fighting a gun is a terrible idea..." Marcus slowly reached down into his left jacket pocket, casually revealing a grenade, his thumb held firmly under the pin. "...but shooting one of these is even worse. Always come prepared, I say." The thugs staggered backward almost in unison, all visibly horrified as they attempted to regain their composure - and control of the situation - by raising their guns once again.
"We ain't scared of you! This is our city!" the new leader yelled behind a wall of false confidence as his men stood frozen behind him, not wanting to make the first move. The gang was sweating bullets as the silence grew unbearable. This standoff with an apparent madman was destroying their collective will.
"You know what, I've decided that you guys are taking too long." Marcus remarked impatiently as he suddenly ripped the pin free from the hand held explosive. Panic ensued as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The grenade dropped from Marcus' hand as men fled in all directions, leaving their guns behind to run faster while crying out in fear. At last, with a clack the explosive hit the ground, rolled, and came to rest at Marcus' feet.
A few seconds passed in the now vacant alley.
Silence.
At last Marcus dropped the pin anticlimactically and, hands in pockets, strolled nonchalantly out of the alleyway and on his way out of Argotte, whistling a wistful tune.
The toy grenade rolled harmlessly on the sidewalk as Marcus kicked it along.
Figured a bunch of thugs would have been smart enough to know the difference. Lucky they didn't I suppose...
And that's all for now! Hopefully I'll have some time to post a little bit more in the coming days to give readers a bit of insight into the specifics of this universe so things don't get too cryptic as more is added to the blog. Anyway, thanks for dropping by. As always, there's more to come, so don't stop checking.
- The Maelstrom
Marcus couldn't help his reaction at what he saw in front of him: Civilization. He smiled...
Well, he smirked at least, which is the best he could manage with all the frown lines permanently engraved into his face. Something about the bright and sunny atmosphere of the small town of Argotte made him feel content despite his current predicament. He had just left the megalopolis Xanflux not three hours ago, and he decided a leisurely stop through the satellite village wouldn't be such a terrible idea. After all, lately it was all Marcus could do to find time for a moment of rest amidst the madness. Aurora and the others split paths with Marcus only a day ago, and yet their safety weighed heavy on his thoughts. Sure, Ace was the most imposing figure he'd ever seen on two legs, and the other two were the furthest from push-overs that you could possibly imagine. Still, Marcus felt pangs of worry ever since their separation, especially after he'd had a run in with some of President Alexander's men. No Knights, luckily - but then again maybe the Knights just went after the larger group.
Whatever...
Marcus did the only thing he could - he stopped thinking about it and dropped by one of the local pubs for a bite to eat. The only indication that the small one-story wooden shack wasn't abandoned was the superfluous amount of smoke billowing up out of the windows of the place. Like something out of an ancient spaghetti western, the joint had rotted batwing doors that looked like they might fall off of the hinges if the winds picked up too much. Either way, Marcus was hungry and the food within, he imagined, had to be cheap.
Cautiously, Marcus took his first step inside and glanced around before walking in. The first thing that was immediately evident was the source of all of that smoke. The place wreaked of cigarettes and ashes practically covered the tables as if the patrons inside had never heard of an ashtray. Marcus took it all in - what he could make out through the smoke at least - as he moved to the bar and sat down. To accentuate the already inviting decor - more rotted wood on the walls and floors, chipped paint everywhere with unrecognizable stains, and a leaky ceiling with only the dimmest of lighting - there was some dried puke in the far corner of the building under a table where a couple of rough looking guys were engaging in an arm-wrestling competition. One of the men eyed Marcus briefly as he looked around, giving off something that wouldn't accurately be described as a friendly vibe.
"I'll have the pastrami on rye with some ice water," Marcus called to the server as he settled in, deciding to mind his own business for the greater good.
He was acknowledged with a nod by the tanned, bushy haired man at the counter, who was fiddling a toothpick around in his mouth full of dark yellow teeth. It was hard to get a good look at the man through the "atmosphere", but that was probably a good thing considering the fact that Marcus was about to be eating.
As he ate Marcus considered what he'd need for the remainder of the solo portion of this trip. The group had agreed to meet up in Kalimthras, but that was still days from here - well, days on foot. But Marcus had no choice other than to travel on the ground as he tried to keep a low profile for the moment. The others were most likely going by train and boat, and at some point Marcus would need to find alternate forms of transportation to overcome the obvious obstacle of the ocean, but not yet.
Marcus reached into his wallet after taking his last bite of food and, with a groan of unpleasant surprise, pulled from it what little money he had left.
He threw his last five Republic silver coins on the bar and left in search of a place to sleep. The sun was going down and to travel through the forests leading to shore would be ridiculous with all of the creatures that come out in the pitch-black of night. Marcus cringed at the thought. Tree ants were the only thing that even remotely scared him, and they were indigenous to nearly any forested area on Syrias.
Marcus stepped into the only inn in town. The attendant was napping. Marcus smirked and crept past silently, creeping upstairs and into an unoccupied room virtually noiselessly. If he could leave early enough in the morning, no one would ever know and he'd have had a free nap. If not, then a messier - but still free - nap. The place was no five star establishment for sure, but the creaky floors and roach-ridden sheets would have to do. After hitting the bed, it only took Marcus a second to pass out. He didn't even bother to take off his boots.
---- Sometime later that night ----
Marcus awoke with a start. His peaceful slumber was interrupted by a loud noise...the distinct pop of small arms fire rang out from somewhere outside. Marcus rolled out of bed feeling groggy, rolling his neck to get rid of the uncomfortable tightness, and stumbled weakly to the window to look around below. His eyes widened immediately at what he could make out through the fog of sleep.
In an alleyway beside the inn, a man in a suit lay dead - his body was riddled with bullet wounds decorated with spatters of crimson - with a small group of young thugs crowded around him. They all wore black bandannas or ski masks, and carried automatic weapons. One was crouched down, searching the fresh corpse for valuables, as the others quietly joked and talked amongst themselves. All were huddled closely around the corpse, waiting to see the spoils of their work.
Marcus seethed with anger. He'd seen this sort of tough-guy posturing before. Intimidating the weak was never impressive, but thugs like these thrived on it. Marcus could only shake his head as he slid the window open.
"Hey motherfucker, not so rich now are ya?!"
The gang roared with laughter as their ski-masked leader slapped the lifeless man on the cheek before rising to his feet, pocketing the credit cards and cash from the victim's wallet.
"Let's get out of..."
A man stumbled out from behind the inn and grabbed the gang leader by the shoulders to lift himself back up, staggering backward and chuckling, evidently intoxicated. The gang leader shoved the drunk man and swiftly pulled a knife from his hip and drove it deep into the man's arm.
That was it.
Suddenly Marcus looked up into the thug's eyes, his gaze cold and filled with hate. The miming of a drunken stupor was replaced instantly by a rigid and aware state to further illustrate and accompany the anger in his eyes. Marcus gripped the hand of the gang leader that was being used to hold the knife and squeezed. With a series of loudly audible snaps, bones were broken and the leader howled in pain as Marcus growled and twisted the knife deeper into his wound before releasing the thug's broken hand. The gangster stumbled back, and before he could blink Marcus wrenched the knife free from his arm with a painful wince and threw it with startling accuracy, hitting his target right between the eyes. With a thud, the lifeless body of the gang's former leader hit the ground, and Marcus let out a bloodthirsty roar.
"The rest of you lowlifes want some!!??"
Every single man raised his weapon and readied it to fire as one stepped forward to speak.
"Who do you think you're messing with, punk? We OWN this town! Let's see you fight a gun!" the man taunted as the gang responded with an uproar of obscenities.
Marcus grinned. "You bring up a good point. Fighting a gun is a terrible idea..." Marcus slowly reached down into his left jacket pocket, casually revealing a grenade, his thumb held firmly under the pin. "...but shooting one of these is even worse. Always come prepared, I say." The thugs staggered backward almost in unison, all visibly horrified as they attempted to regain their composure - and control of the situation - by raising their guns once again.
"We ain't scared of you! This is our city!" the new leader yelled behind a wall of false confidence as his men stood frozen behind him, not wanting to make the first move. The gang was sweating bullets as the silence grew unbearable. This standoff with an apparent madman was destroying their collective will.
"You know what, I've decided that you guys are taking too long." Marcus remarked impatiently as he suddenly ripped the pin free from the hand held explosive. Panic ensued as everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The grenade dropped from Marcus' hand as men fled in all directions, leaving their guns behind to run faster while crying out in fear. At last, with a clack the explosive hit the ground, rolled, and came to rest at Marcus' feet.
A few seconds passed in the now vacant alley.
Silence.
At last Marcus dropped the pin anticlimactically and, hands in pockets, strolled nonchalantly out of the alleyway and on his way out of Argotte, whistling a wistful tune.
The toy grenade rolled harmlessly on the sidewalk as Marcus kicked it along.
Figured a bunch of thugs would have been smart enough to know the difference. Lucky they didn't I suppose...
And that's all for now! Hopefully I'll have some time to post a little bit more in the coming days to give readers a bit of insight into the specifics of this universe so things don't get too cryptic as more is added to the blog. Anyway, thanks for dropping by. As always, there's more to come, so don't stop checking.
- The Maelstrom
A Political Brawler
Hey guys, Its Spade again, we're still working on something legitimate to put here, possibly a short origins-like comic that shows the first kills of our main cast. Until then, I'll give you another member of the cast to look at. He's a major player right off the bat, and becomes a driving force later on. Here we go.
Alec Cornelius Thorson
Alias: Ace, Ace of Spades
Birthday: 7/12/458 (27)
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Hair Styles: Shoulder length, slicked back/ pony tail or Not styled, messy
Skin: Marvelously tanned
Height: 6’0”
Occupation: Commander in Chief of the Royale, and the country of Asino
Strong Points: Administration, business, likeable, loyal
Has Trouble With: being too laid back, cocky, temper,grudges
Short Term Goal: Vengeance upon Alexander
Long Term Goal: Overthrow the Republic, and usher in a new era of peace and freedom
Personality: Alec is a professional above all else. He views his city as his number one, nothing else can ever come first. Because of this, his personality varies. When 'at work' his demeanor is serious, always. Some days he hardly smiles while attending to his duties. To his citizens, he is benevolent and compassionate, to his enemies he appears cold, cynical, and cut throat, perhaps even murderous. Alec is a man that knows that politics is all about appearances. Doubly so when on the verge of war. However, for every first there is a second, for Alec that second is a playboy. The moment he leaves his office, every day his troubles instantly was away and he becomes a light-hearted, partier.. His parties are renowned, all throughout Syrias, Alec is known to be wild, and live the good life, with the cocky 'I can take on the world' attitude to go with it. Though there are still a few things to him that must always remain serious. He also has a bit of a temper, though slow to anger in most circumstances.
Sum of Personality in One Word: Leader
Antithesis of Personality in One Word: Coward
Personal History:
He had been a rambunctious child all his life. He attended a Republic school in the capital city, where he received one of the greatest educations in Syrias. When he was around 12 or so, he decided that he would, like his father become a politician, in hopes of one day creating a utopia for all of Syrias. However, he would learn a terrible lesson while in the republic academy. Might makes right. A philosophy that he took to heart. Despite only being about 12 years old, he became progressively violent, constantly chastised for his behavior. He would frequently fight other children, many of them several years his senior, and he would fight brutally. However, he was never expelled. It was his father, Alfred who withdrew him from the academy. He was told that several things were going on, that his mother and alfred were having problems so they were moving to their summer home along the coast. This also was the region that Alfred was originally from, a small territory called Asino, where Alfred had began his political career, and now represented the region in the republic. This is where he continued his education until he was around 19, when he became rebellious.
Asino was like a tourist attraction for the majority of Syrias, featuring resorts, casinos, theatres and various other forms of entertainment. Among these were fighting tournaments, much like those in rancora, but these were more civil, never ending in death. He began to attend these bouts and taught himself how to fight, how to take a hit, and how to injure someone. All this he did by watching, and studying. Then, one day he decided to actually participate. He became well known in the fighting circut, winning several champion titles, in just a few months. He would determine however that here in Asino, people weren't challenging enough. Ever since he had been in the academy, his workout routine had been set in stone, allowing him to be in peak physical condition. He was arrogant, after an accidental death in the ring, he decided to go to Rancora, where he could find more challenging opponents. His father, demanded that he stay, that his place was in Asino, that world events made it unsafe for people like himself and his father. Of course Alfred's demands were ignored, and within a months time his first fight was in the Blood Tournament. He won, and killed his opponent with his bare hands. As he was leaving the arena, he looked up and saw a gun aimed at his chest. They shot.
Life begins with a bang. This is far more literal for he than most. His clearest memory is an explosion as he staggered out, mostly nude, from a complex at the southern in of the republic territory, and the gunshot that put him there. Confused he looked back and shook his head trying to remember. He remembered his father, Alfred a Republic Representative, and his mother, Rachel an assistant to the republic scientist Sandro. He knew his home and where it was, and he eventually remembered everything about himself, aside from his name.
He eventually arrived back home, feeling like a changed man. His father accepted him with open arms, laughing, despite the fact that his son had nearly been killed. Alfred laughed that he had to tell his son his name was Alec, and said that perhaps now Alec would realize that might didn't make right, as he had been shot. Alec agreed and took a far more peaceful approach to life. Following in his fathers footsteps, he became politically active as the republic handed over more and more power to The President Alexander.
Alfred would be one of the few who refused Alexander's power, claiming that Asino was now an independent nation. From across Syrias people came, those who would refuse to allow Alexander to rule their lives came to Asino, and despite the republic's refusal to trade, Asino prospered. Then there was peace for a time, as Alfred grew older, Asino knew nothing but the most peaceful time in its life, the republic even began trading again. Through all of this, Alec stayed by his father's side. When his father died, Alfred was heart broken, and Asino, with no leader was now ripe for the republic's picking. Alec saw this as a time to repent for his sins, and named himself the ruler of Asino, with the blessing of the populous. He attended a meeting with a republic representitive, sent by Alexander to have Alec sign Asino to the republic, essentially a formal apology of succession. Needless to say the meeting ended terribly for the republic, the event had been televised, and all of the republic watched as Alfred's son too was also a pillar of determination against the republic. When Alec returned home, he was celebrated a hero, however he went straight to work, forming ways of protecting the citizens, including a new structure for the government, so that people were never known by name, only by rank. He formed the Royale, which consisted also of an army. the republic began showing small signs of agression, which were quickly stamped out as soon as his force entered Asion's borders. Alec continued to lead the country against Alexander, never attacking the republic, however many small settlements would request to join asino, and Alec would take them with open arms. Now Alexander takes the very existence of Alec Thorson as a personal insult. Alec knows of a price on his head and has already personally dispatched several bounty hunters. He now awaits Alexander's next move.
Thats it, my next update will be a bit of information about the 'city' that we've been talking so much about in this profile, and in the end of Marcus' profile. Asino
Alec Cornelius Thorson
Alias: Ace, Ace of Spades
Birthday: 7/12/458 (27)
Eyes: Blue
Hair: Blonde
Hair Styles: Shoulder length, slicked back/ pony tail or Not styled, messy
Skin: Marvelously tanned
Height: 6’0”
Occupation: Commander in Chief of the Royale, and the country of Asino
Strong Points: Administration, business, likeable, loyal
Has Trouble With: being too laid back, cocky, temper,grudges
Short Term Goal: Vengeance upon Alexander
Long Term Goal: Overthrow the Republic, and usher in a new era of peace and freedom
Personality: Alec is a professional above all else. He views his city as his number one, nothing else can ever come first. Because of this, his personality varies. When 'at work' his demeanor is serious, always. Some days he hardly smiles while attending to his duties. To his citizens, he is benevolent and compassionate, to his enemies he appears cold, cynical, and cut throat, perhaps even murderous. Alec is a man that knows that politics is all about appearances. Doubly so when on the verge of war. However, for every first there is a second, for Alec that second is a playboy. The moment he leaves his office, every day his troubles instantly was away and he becomes a light-hearted, partier.. His parties are renowned, all throughout Syrias, Alec is known to be wild, and live the good life, with the cocky 'I can take on the world' attitude to go with it. Though there are still a few things to him that must always remain serious. He also has a bit of a temper, though slow to anger in most circumstances.
Sum of Personality in One Word: Leader
Antithesis of Personality in One Word: Coward
Personal History:
He had been a rambunctious child all his life. He attended a Republic school in the capital city, where he received one of the greatest educations in Syrias. When he was around 12 or so, he decided that he would, like his father become a politician, in hopes of one day creating a utopia for all of Syrias. However, he would learn a terrible lesson while in the republic academy. Might makes right. A philosophy that he took to heart. Despite only being about 12 years old, he became progressively violent, constantly chastised for his behavior. He would frequently fight other children, many of them several years his senior, and he would fight brutally. However, he was never expelled. It was his father, Alfred who withdrew him from the academy. He was told that several things were going on, that his mother and alfred were having problems so they were moving to their summer home along the coast. This also was the region that Alfred was originally from, a small territory called Asino, where Alfred had began his political career, and now represented the region in the republic. This is where he continued his education until he was around 19, when he became rebellious.
Asino was like a tourist attraction for the majority of Syrias, featuring resorts, casinos, theatres and various other forms of entertainment. Among these were fighting tournaments, much like those in rancora, but these were more civil, never ending in death. He began to attend these bouts and taught himself how to fight, how to take a hit, and how to injure someone. All this he did by watching, and studying. Then, one day he decided to actually participate. He became well known in the fighting circut, winning several champion titles, in just a few months. He would determine however that here in Asino, people weren't challenging enough. Ever since he had been in the academy, his workout routine had been set in stone, allowing him to be in peak physical condition. He was arrogant, after an accidental death in the ring, he decided to go to Rancora, where he could find more challenging opponents. His father, demanded that he stay, that his place was in Asino, that world events made it unsafe for people like himself and his father. Of course Alfred's demands were ignored, and within a months time his first fight was in the Blood Tournament. He won, and killed his opponent with his bare hands. As he was leaving the arena, he looked up and saw a gun aimed at his chest. They shot.
Life begins with a bang. This is far more literal for he than most. His clearest memory is an explosion as he staggered out, mostly nude, from a complex at the southern in of the republic territory, and the gunshot that put him there. Confused he looked back and shook his head trying to remember. He remembered his father, Alfred a Republic Representative, and his mother, Rachel an assistant to the republic scientist Sandro. He knew his home and where it was, and he eventually remembered everything about himself, aside from his name.
He eventually arrived back home, feeling like a changed man. His father accepted him with open arms, laughing, despite the fact that his son had nearly been killed. Alfred laughed that he had to tell his son his name was Alec, and said that perhaps now Alec would realize that might didn't make right, as he had been shot. Alec agreed and took a far more peaceful approach to life. Following in his fathers footsteps, he became politically active as the republic handed over more and more power to The President Alexander.
Alfred would be one of the few who refused Alexander's power, claiming that Asino was now an independent nation. From across Syrias people came, those who would refuse to allow Alexander to rule their lives came to Asino, and despite the republic's refusal to trade, Asino prospered. Then there was peace for a time, as Alfred grew older, Asino knew nothing but the most peaceful time in its life, the republic even began trading again. Through all of this, Alec stayed by his father's side. When his father died, Alfred was heart broken, and Asino, with no leader was now ripe for the republic's picking. Alec saw this as a time to repent for his sins, and named himself the ruler of Asino, with the blessing of the populous. He attended a meeting with a republic representitive, sent by Alexander to have Alec sign Asino to the republic, essentially a formal apology of succession. Needless to say the meeting ended terribly for the republic, the event had been televised, and all of the republic watched as Alfred's son too was also a pillar of determination against the republic. When Alec returned home, he was celebrated a hero, however he went straight to work, forming ways of protecting the citizens, including a new structure for the government, so that people were never known by name, only by rank. He formed the Royale, which consisted also of an army. the republic began showing small signs of agression, which were quickly stamped out as soon as his force entered Asion's borders. Alec continued to lead the country against Alexander, never attacking the republic, however many small settlements would request to join asino, and Alec would take them with open arms. Now Alexander takes the very existence of Alec Thorson as a personal insult. Alec knows of a price on his head and has already personally dispatched several bounty hunters. He now awaits Alexander's next move.
Thats it, my next update will be a bit of information about the 'city' that we've been talking so much about in this profile, and in the end of Marcus' profile. Asino
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Marcus Wolfram Bio
As I'm experiencing a little bit of writer's block lately I'll just go ahead and throw this bio up here. I might be able to get some sketches up in the next couple of days as well. In fact, I really hope to do so. For now though, there's this:
Name: Marcus Albrecht Wolfram
Birthday: 2/13/461 (Current Year: 485 EX, Age: 24)
Eyes: Gray
Hair: Dark Brown
Other Hair: N/A
Skin: Pale White
Height: 6'2"
Occupation: Gunsmith, Professional Fighter, Bounty Hunter
Strong Points: Strong-willed, mentally stable, tactically and logically minded
Has Trouble With: Being empathetic, open-mindedness, controlling his temper
Short Term Goal: Survive
Long Term Goal: Overthrow the Republic and live a peaceful life
Personality: Marcus is a bold and opinionated individual. His spectrum of externally expressed emotions is very limited, and his ability to seemingly view even the most impactful situations solely through the cold eye of logic is uncanny. By far the thing that drives Marcus most in life is his intense and passionate anger, which he holds deep within until those times when it can be manipulated to his own ends. Marcus has a soft spot in his heart for other people, particularly children and those he views as honest and kind hearted, though he seldom allows anyone else to see this side of him. Even when acting for the good of others, Marcus guards himself by appearing hard edged and unapproachable. Only his closest friends can easily see the good through Marcus' rough, confrontational exterior.
Personal History: Born in the northern regions of Jurthea, in a small farming village at the center of Norde Valley, Marcus grew up in an idyllic community free from both the benefits and pitfalls of the technology found throughout the planet Syrias. Spending the early years of his childhood learning how to farm and being home schooled, Marcus often found himself getting into trouble through his curious and independent nature. From getting lost while wandering through the woods as a child to prowling through the town at night and pranking neighbours as a teenager, Marcus was never one to respect authority or boundaries. His parents, Frederick and Sara Wolfram, were held in high regard in the community as they served as pillars of the local farmer's committee. His siblings - older brother Adelfried, and younger sister Estella - were both known to be helpful and well adjusted children. Though Marcus was, academically, the most gifted of the Wolfram children, he was also by far the biggest trouble maker. His antics made him a menace to most people, and by the time he was nearing adulthood his parents no longer concerned themselves with his exploits, accepting that they could not control such a strong willed individual.
After a while, Marcus simply assumed the life of a nomad, having left his days of schooling behind before they were through. He learned to harbor feelings of distrust for the government through his father, and he had no interest in allowing himself to become a contributing member of the tax money-bleeding populous. Though his home town was far from brainwashed by President Alexander, most were strong Republic loyalists, which distanced Marcus even further from his people. Gone for weeks at a time, people seemed to stop noticing or caring when he would come and go, and finally, this proved to be to his own detriment.
Quietly taken into Republic custody one night while caught sneaking into cargo ships in a northern Jurthean port town, Marcus was hurled into a much grander scheme than he could ever have anticipated. After Sandro Ribaldi - leader of the biogenetic engineering branch of the R&D division of the Republic military - discovered Marcus' lack of proper government documentation, he determined that the teenaged boy was a perfect and low-risk fit for his latest experiment. Along with a group of five other participants, Marcus was made subject to a new surgical procedure that would replace the lame or amputated arms and legs of wounded soldiers with new, advanced mechanical limbs. By fate or who knows what else, Marcus was the only survivor, with most subjects falling prey to blood poisoning, infection, and other maladies related to the experimentation process.
Determined to be freed of his prison, and with hate filling his heart, Marcus brooded every day on his situation and concocted a simple escape plan. Several months after Marcus' operation and the conclusion of his rehabilitation process, during a routine training exercise in the multi-level rainforests of Patronus, he made his move. The escape was easy. Guarded only by a couple of Republic snipers, he was able to dash away into the thick of the forest without any possibility of being tracked by a normal man.
After his successful escape, Marcus became a hotly pursued fugitive for a short time, but within months was a non-factor as Sandro had moved on to more advanced technologies. Still technically a wanted man, Marcus decided to once again take on a nomadic lifestyle. He first headed toward Jurthea to find his family. To his dismay, their old home had been abandoned, and the townspeople could provide him with little information. Marcus spent the next couple of months traveling Syrias on a desperate journey for information. He found nothing. He moved on with his life out of necessity, still tracked relentlessly by bounty hunters, and eventually landed in the island-state of Kalimthra. Here, Marcus found himself fascinated by the native monks and their way of life. He spent two years in the southern temples of Kalimthra, training in fighting arts and learning discipline and restraint.
Deciding he could not stay as the headhunters continued to follow him, Marcus once again packed up and moved; this time to the northern country of Rancora on tips that he could make easy money fighting in the largest organized sporting event in Syrias - The Blood Tournament; a bare knuckle, no-rules fighting contest held weekly in the Coliseum of Venom. It didn't take long for Marcus to gain fame in the city of Venom, and soon the Ludwig crime family - rulers of Rancora - took notice and bought Marcus out of his bounty to keep their cash cow safe.
Not long after arriving in Rancora, Marcus began to study the art and science behind gunsmithing, inspired by a little discussed interest he'd always had in firearms. He tinkered here and there for a while until finally his amateur craft fell into the lap of a man calling himself, simply, Rook. Rook, a renowned arms maker, offered to take Marcus under his wing and properly teach him the trade after being impressed by his efforts. The two eventually became business associates in a sense, with Marcus opening up a shop and Rook helping to supply it with weapons, and slowly they gained a healthy respect for one another.
Falling on hard times due to rising taxes, Marcus was eventually unable to sell enough in his shop or make enough money in the Coliseum to support himself, and he became interested in bounty hunting. After hunting down a dozen or so small time criminals over the course of a few months, Marcus decided to go after the most imposing of men that the Republic had put a price on. The leader of the "Rogue City" Asino, Alec Thorson.
There you have it. I might follow this with some short descriptions of the various places found on Syrias. Also, remember, this is all a work in progress so things can and probably will change somewhere down the line.
The Maelstrom
Name: Marcus Albrecht Wolfram
Birthday: 2/13/461 (Current Year: 485 EX, Age: 24)
Eyes: Gray
Hair: Dark Brown
Other Hair: N/A
Skin: Pale White
Height: 6'2"
Occupation: Gunsmith, Professional Fighter, Bounty Hunter
Strong Points: Strong-willed, mentally stable, tactically and logically minded
Has Trouble With: Being empathetic, open-mindedness, controlling his temper
Short Term Goal: Survive
Long Term Goal: Overthrow the Republic and live a peaceful life
Personality: Marcus is a bold and opinionated individual. His spectrum of externally expressed emotions is very limited, and his ability to seemingly view even the most impactful situations solely through the cold eye of logic is uncanny. By far the thing that drives Marcus most in life is his intense and passionate anger, which he holds deep within until those times when it can be manipulated to his own ends. Marcus has a soft spot in his heart for other people, particularly children and those he views as honest and kind hearted, though he seldom allows anyone else to see this side of him. Even when acting for the good of others, Marcus guards himself by appearing hard edged and unapproachable. Only his closest friends can easily see the good through Marcus' rough, confrontational exterior.
Personal History: Born in the northern regions of Jurthea, in a small farming village at the center of Norde Valley, Marcus grew up in an idyllic community free from both the benefits and pitfalls of the technology found throughout the planet Syrias. Spending the early years of his childhood learning how to farm and being home schooled, Marcus often found himself getting into trouble through his curious and independent nature. From getting lost while wandering through the woods as a child to prowling through the town at night and pranking neighbours as a teenager, Marcus was never one to respect authority or boundaries. His parents, Frederick and Sara Wolfram, were held in high regard in the community as they served as pillars of the local farmer's committee. His siblings - older brother Adelfried, and younger sister Estella - were both known to be helpful and well adjusted children. Though Marcus was, academically, the most gifted of the Wolfram children, he was also by far the biggest trouble maker. His antics made him a menace to most people, and by the time he was nearing adulthood his parents no longer concerned themselves with his exploits, accepting that they could not control such a strong willed individual.
After a while, Marcus simply assumed the life of a nomad, having left his days of schooling behind before they were through. He learned to harbor feelings of distrust for the government through his father, and he had no interest in allowing himself to become a contributing member of the tax money-bleeding populous. Though his home town was far from brainwashed by President Alexander, most were strong Republic loyalists, which distanced Marcus even further from his people. Gone for weeks at a time, people seemed to stop noticing or caring when he would come and go, and finally, this proved to be to his own detriment.
Quietly taken into Republic custody one night while caught sneaking into cargo ships in a northern Jurthean port town, Marcus was hurled into a much grander scheme than he could ever have anticipated. After Sandro Ribaldi - leader of the biogenetic engineering branch of the R&D division of the Republic military - discovered Marcus' lack of proper government documentation, he determined that the teenaged boy was a perfect and low-risk fit for his latest experiment. Along with a group of five other participants, Marcus was made subject to a new surgical procedure that would replace the lame or amputated arms and legs of wounded soldiers with new, advanced mechanical limbs. By fate or who knows what else, Marcus was the only survivor, with most subjects falling prey to blood poisoning, infection, and other maladies related to the experimentation process.
Determined to be freed of his prison, and with hate filling his heart, Marcus brooded every day on his situation and concocted a simple escape plan. Several months after Marcus' operation and the conclusion of his rehabilitation process, during a routine training exercise in the multi-level rainforests of Patronus, he made his move. The escape was easy. Guarded only by a couple of Republic snipers, he was able to dash away into the thick of the forest without any possibility of being tracked by a normal man.
After his successful escape, Marcus became a hotly pursued fugitive for a short time, but within months was a non-factor as Sandro had moved on to more advanced technologies. Still technically a wanted man, Marcus decided to once again take on a nomadic lifestyle. He first headed toward Jurthea to find his family. To his dismay, their old home had been abandoned, and the townspeople could provide him with little information. Marcus spent the next couple of months traveling Syrias on a desperate journey for information. He found nothing. He moved on with his life out of necessity, still tracked relentlessly by bounty hunters, and eventually landed in the island-state of Kalimthra. Here, Marcus found himself fascinated by the native monks and their way of life. He spent two years in the southern temples of Kalimthra, training in fighting arts and learning discipline and restraint.
Deciding he could not stay as the headhunters continued to follow him, Marcus once again packed up and moved; this time to the northern country of Rancora on tips that he could make easy money fighting in the largest organized sporting event in Syrias - The Blood Tournament; a bare knuckle, no-rules fighting contest held weekly in the Coliseum of Venom. It didn't take long for Marcus to gain fame in the city of Venom, and soon the Ludwig crime family - rulers of Rancora - took notice and bought Marcus out of his bounty to keep their cash cow safe.
Not long after arriving in Rancora, Marcus began to study the art and science behind gunsmithing, inspired by a little discussed interest he'd always had in firearms. He tinkered here and there for a while until finally his amateur craft fell into the lap of a man calling himself, simply, Rook. Rook, a renowned arms maker, offered to take Marcus under his wing and properly teach him the trade after being impressed by his efforts. The two eventually became business associates in a sense, with Marcus opening up a shop and Rook helping to supply it with weapons, and slowly they gained a healthy respect for one another.
Falling on hard times due to rising taxes, Marcus was eventually unable to sell enough in his shop or make enough money in the Coliseum to support himself, and he became interested in bounty hunting. After hunting down a dozen or so small time criminals over the course of a few months, Marcus decided to go after the most imposing of men that the Republic had put a price on. The leader of the "Rogue City" Asino, Alec Thorson.
There you have it. I might follow this with some short descriptions of the various places found on Syrias. Also, remember, this is all a work in progress so things can and probably will change somewhere down the line.
The Maelstrom
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