Ðerek
06-11-06, 09:20 PM
Name: Derek Masata
Age: Unknown; appears 28
Race:Human
Hair Color: Raven
Eye Color: Jade
Height: 7'3
Weight: 351lbs of toned muscle.
Occupation: Mercenary
Personality: Cast out amongst the varying planetary nations after his the abrupt destruction of his former home, as well as lifestyle, Derek has carefully treaded the walks of life in seclusion and stealth. With a kind heart, yet vicious ability at expressing anger and disapproval, he has earned a barely whispered name, though only amongst secluded crowds who'd rather not go into too much detail. His gifted trademark, that ever present black cowboy hat that adorns his head, has always gave him a place amongst the 'redneck' society by those who'd cast their eyes down on such a person. Although, the dual Desert Eagles adorning each hip, not to mention the massive customly made scythe at his back, are more than enough to discourage anyone from issuing the first joke. Either the life of the party, or the end to a conflict, Derek will be the one always found, normally puffing on his favorite brand of cigarettes.
Appearance: If anyone failed to notice the cowboy hat atop of Derek's head, they would most likely be a member of a very small group. With it's presence as the foundation of his basic attire, the only other memorable adornment would be the scythe at his back, carefully settled within the confines of it's sheathe. Though, with his southern appearance to suit his roots, the flowing folds of the extending black trenchcoat nearly cover his barely covered upper body as the muscle shirt provides what discretion it can. From the belt at his waist, not to mention the rather large belt buckle, down over the furthest reaches of the worn denim jeans to halt at the well polished black military issue combat boots, he's normally one to stand out in a crowd.
History: Born to a poor southern family, Derek grew up on the typical farm. While enduring the basic hard working life of a young man in the south, Derek aspired for something a bit more dramatic. Once through with high school, Derek left home to assume a life in the military. Upon his graduation boot camp, Derek had already been awarded several medals for his courage and expertise of leading a team in the field.
It didn’t take him long to move up amongst the ranks of the military as he applied for each and every Op he could find. Yet, the hardest transition he had to endure was not on a foreign battlefield nor the assassination of a political terrorist. Instead, it was to become part of the military’s newest elite unit. It began as three months of fierce training in which most drop outs occurred in the first week, yet the drop outs never did report to their former units. Derek wasn’t one to give up and strived to perform to his top physical ability. Once the end of the three months, Derek stood as a symbol of human perfection. Although, that was his true fault, his humanity. The next step of the program was the augmentation of his body. New forms of steroids and muscle builders were developed and supplied to the unit as their training suddenly came to a halt.
As months passed, the dramatic growth of Derek’s body keeping them from revealing theirselves outside of the training facility. Added with the three months of physical labor, Derek now stood at the thundering height of 7’3 and around a weight of 327lbs. The eventual investigation of his unit sent everything into chaos, Derek had suddenly became the enemy. It seemed they deemed the experiments done to him and the rest of his unit were unthinkable and had come to the idea that they were to be terminated.
The termination of his unit began as the more trusting members of the unit found themselves ordered into rooms, gassed in a Holocaustic manner. Yet, several were able to escape, and Derek stands as one of the governments major failures. While not caring enough to report the wrongs done to him and his unit, he made sure that their deaths weren’t in vain. Derek has founded his own business, based in London, to keep himself free of his American traitors. While longing for home, he refuses to notify them of how their favored son had become one of the government’s biggest screw ups.
Though finding himself tossed amongst a group of people, each fully equipped with their own specialty as well as explosive power, Derek couldn't help but express his feelings. Even with the loss of his memory, at least the careful embroidery against the back of his jacket explained what his name was, although the strange symbols would cast a shadow over his mind nearly as powerful as his 'out of place' feeling.
After his fleeting escape from the destruction of his planet, Derek found himself roomed with the differing quarters and lifeforms of Halptide. Though, finding it not quite his forte, nor his future setting, Derek took leave of the Technocrats on good terms, leaving his abilitys open to them in the future if the need ever arose.
Skills: With numerous hand to hand and weapon weilding abilities, though none quite so specific in memory, Derek is a well stationed combatant through them all. Newly acquired through his sudden surge of power aboard his former home planet, the ability to alter time, plus a certain area around him's own time was definantly the newest edition. While wielding the ability to alter time, the question put into place would be his own age and how it would affect him. Though careful attempts at mastery at this skill have been issued, each were found lacking, although still progressing his ability to control it with each passing day. Whether this skill will either suddenly disappear or expand into the sheer aptitude of controling areas through a far reaching mind spectrum, it is left to question.
Equipment: Though various weaponry amongst his lithe forms glistens in appearance, the mammoth blade at his back signifys power by his sheer ability to easily wield and manuever it in combat. Through sheer instinct, and without prior knowledge of attaining the proper training, when Derek's hands land atop of the dual Desert Eagles against his hips, it's hard to see him miss whatever target falls before his aim. Yet as another general addition to the already leveled amount of weaponry this man supports, the rows of daggers lining each arm shift between their poisoned preference.
Age: Unknown; appears 28
Race:Human
Hair Color: Raven
Eye Color: Jade
Height: 7'3
Weight: 351lbs of toned muscle.
Occupation: Mercenary
Personality: Cast out amongst the varying planetary nations after his the abrupt destruction of his former home, as well as lifestyle, Derek has carefully treaded the walks of life in seclusion and stealth. With a kind heart, yet vicious ability at expressing anger and disapproval, he has earned a barely whispered name, though only amongst secluded crowds who'd rather not go into too much detail. His gifted trademark, that ever present black cowboy hat that adorns his head, has always gave him a place amongst the 'redneck' society by those who'd cast their eyes down on such a person. Although, the dual Desert Eagles adorning each hip, not to mention the massive customly made scythe at his back, are more than enough to discourage anyone from issuing the first joke. Either the life of the party, or the end to a conflict, Derek will be the one always found, normally puffing on his favorite brand of cigarettes.
Appearance: If anyone failed to notice the cowboy hat atop of Derek's head, they would most likely be a member of a very small group. With it's presence as the foundation of his basic attire, the only other memorable adornment would be the scythe at his back, carefully settled within the confines of it's sheathe. Though, with his southern appearance to suit his roots, the flowing folds of the extending black trenchcoat nearly cover his barely covered upper body as the muscle shirt provides what discretion it can. From the belt at his waist, not to mention the rather large belt buckle, down over the furthest reaches of the worn denim jeans to halt at the well polished black military issue combat boots, he's normally one to stand out in a crowd.
History: Born to a poor southern family, Derek grew up on the typical farm. While enduring the basic hard working life of a young man in the south, Derek aspired for something a bit more dramatic. Once through with high school, Derek left home to assume a life in the military. Upon his graduation boot camp, Derek had already been awarded several medals for his courage and expertise of leading a team in the field.
It didn’t take him long to move up amongst the ranks of the military as he applied for each and every Op he could find. Yet, the hardest transition he had to endure was not on a foreign battlefield nor the assassination of a political terrorist. Instead, it was to become part of the military’s newest elite unit. It began as three months of fierce training in which most drop outs occurred in the first week, yet the drop outs never did report to their former units. Derek wasn’t one to give up and strived to perform to his top physical ability. Once the end of the three months, Derek stood as a symbol of human perfection. Although, that was his true fault, his humanity. The next step of the program was the augmentation of his body. New forms of steroids and muscle builders were developed and supplied to the unit as their training suddenly came to a halt.
As months passed, the dramatic growth of Derek’s body keeping them from revealing theirselves outside of the training facility. Added with the three months of physical labor, Derek now stood at the thundering height of 7’3 and around a weight of 327lbs. The eventual investigation of his unit sent everything into chaos, Derek had suddenly became the enemy. It seemed they deemed the experiments done to him and the rest of his unit were unthinkable and had come to the idea that they were to be terminated.
The termination of his unit began as the more trusting members of the unit found themselves ordered into rooms, gassed in a Holocaustic manner. Yet, several were able to escape, and Derek stands as one of the governments major failures. While not caring enough to report the wrongs done to him and his unit, he made sure that their deaths weren’t in vain. Derek has founded his own business, based in London, to keep himself free of his American traitors. While longing for home, he refuses to notify them of how their favored son had become one of the government’s biggest screw ups.
Though finding himself tossed amongst a group of people, each fully equipped with their own specialty as well as explosive power, Derek couldn't help but express his feelings. Even with the loss of his memory, at least the careful embroidery against the back of his jacket explained what his name was, although the strange symbols would cast a shadow over his mind nearly as powerful as his 'out of place' feeling.
After his fleeting escape from the destruction of his planet, Derek found himself roomed with the differing quarters and lifeforms of Halptide. Though, finding it not quite his forte, nor his future setting, Derek took leave of the Technocrats on good terms, leaving his abilitys open to them in the future if the need ever arose.
Skills: With numerous hand to hand and weapon weilding abilities, though none quite so specific in memory, Derek is a well stationed combatant through them all. Newly acquired through his sudden surge of power aboard his former home planet, the ability to alter time, plus a certain area around him's own time was definantly the newest edition. While wielding the ability to alter time, the question put into place would be his own age and how it would affect him. Though careful attempts at mastery at this skill have been issued, each were found lacking, although still progressing his ability to control it with each passing day. Whether this skill will either suddenly disappear or expand into the sheer aptitude of controling areas through a far reaching mind spectrum, it is left to question.
Equipment: Though various weaponry amongst his lithe forms glistens in appearance, the mammoth blade at his back signifys power by his sheer ability to easily wield and manuever it in combat. Through sheer instinct, and without prior knowledge of attaining the proper training, when Derek's hands land atop of the dual Desert Eagles against his hips, it's hard to see him miss whatever target falls before his aim. Yet as another general addition to the already leveled amount of weaponry this man supports, the rows of daggers lining each arm shift between their poisoned preference.