Name: Darius
Age: 22
Sex: Male
Height: 6'1''
Race: Caucasian
Build: Medium build, muscular arms and torso
Hair: short dirty blonde
Eyes: Blue
Distinct Features: a scar running down the left side of his face from his forehead to his jaw and a small scar on his chest
Clothes: Work boots, black jeans, white t-shirt underneath black hoody and webgear underneath his hoody containing clips and bullets.
Weapon(s): HK45, Desert Eagle
Abilities: Darius can escape easily when he needs to because he is very good at free running and is an excellent marksman when need be.
Other abilities: Very good at capoeira and kickboxing.
Personality: Darius is and optimist and is normally quite talkative, loud and humorous. Also, he drinks a lot and normally keeps a hip flask on him at all times
Background: Darius had a rough childhood and was the youngest and least favorite of his parents out of his four other brothers. Despite his parents, his brothers took good care of him. Darius and his family lived in a particularly rough neighborhood with gang fights constantly going on. Darius was constantly picked on by a lot of the kids and normally getting jumped but learned how to get away and around obstacles in his way contributing to his excellence in free running. Darius became tired of running and his brothers fighting for him and began to teach himself kickboxing and soon after, capoeira.
Darius began to fight back more often after learning how to fight. His brothers had formed a gang by the time Darius was fifteen and they soon became one of the top gangs in their neighborhood. It wasnt that much of a gang, more like ten people; Darius and his brothers and a few of their closest friends. Seeing as they were one of the top gangs, there were a lot of fights. A lot of their friends had left the gang or were killed being jumped by rival gang members.
One night, Darius and his brothers were taken to war by one of the gangs. Darius' oldest brother was murdered and were getting picked off one by one until it was the two youngest brothers. Darius and his brother stuck together but were cornered by several rival members. Darius' brother was beaten to death and Darius was beaten to within an inch of his life. He'd been stabbed in the chest and someone was slicing deep into the side of his face.
With a burst of energy he grabbed the persons wrist and took the knife out of his hand and stabbed his attacker in the chest several times. Darius was left there, dying until someone found him and brought him to the hospital. He was treated and stitched up and left with a nasty scar on the left side of his face. He soon returned home where his parents blamed the death of his brothers on him.
They kicked him out and told him they never wanted to see him again and since then he's been somewhat of a hitman hired by various clients and works anywhere that hires for extra money. Currently he works as a bartender because there arent many clients needing a hit.
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Name: Trent
Age: 20
Sex: Male
Height: 5'10''/5'11''
Race: Caucasian
Build: Medium
Hair: Brown, shoulder length, front reaches his eyebrows, normally messy
Eyes: Green
Distinct Features: Both arms and chest are covered in tribal tattoo's, missing left eye and a large diagonal scar down the left side of his chest
Clothes: Wear's a dark blue armor on his legs and his right side of his torso exposing his half his chest and left arm and has a bandage over left eye.
Weapon(s): A large sword, about the size of himself, with a long hilt, a wide blade with the same tribal markings on it as the tattoos Trent has on his chest and arms. Originally his father's sword
Abilities: Trent has a lot of strength due to the fact that he weilds such a big sword and enables him to pack quite the punch when not using his sword which is very rare, also he is very swift with his sword.
Personality: Trent is somewhat talkative and social but in battle he's psychotic and sometimes dismembers his enemies before actually killing them. Also, when given a challenge he is not afraid to put himself in pain to deliver a killing strike.
Background:
Trent was born to loving parents. His father was a soldier and trained Trent as one. Trent excelled in handling swords in combat and soon his father brought him along on missions that werent too dangerous but would give them time to train. Trent was always getting better in combat and the only person who could give him a real challenge was his father. Trent soon enlisted in the army when he came of age and rose through the ranks quicker than most.
Trent and his father fought alongside eachother in battle and were most known and most feared by opposing armies. Trent became well known and feared for slicing his enemies limbs off before delivering a killing blow. Some spoke of him as a monster without feeling or a soul. Despite how proud his father was, he was concerned about trent. It seemed as if he enjoyed dismembering his enemies and fighting entirely too much but he dismissed the thought seeing as Trent was only doing it for his kingdom.
Trent became well trusted and well liked by his king due to his skills in battle. Trent was sometimes assigned as the king's body guard when the king had business outside of their kingdom. While away assigned to protect the king on the way to a neigboring kingdom, Trent's mother passed away. Upon returning he heard the news and went to the grave with his father. His father told him that his mother's last words were "Tell Trent I'm proud of him". The king joined them in paying their respects and told Trent's father what the meeting in the neighboring kingdom had been about.
Their best warrior wanted to face Trent's father in a duel to the death in one year. Trent's father had gladly accept the challenge. Trent and his father spent that year training for the duel to come. They sparred every day for five hours, not stopping for anything. Before they knew it, the year was up and the time had come.
Many soldiers along with the king had assembled in the courtyard of the castle. The challenger had arrived and stood in the middle of the circle formed by the soldiers and king. Trents father walked in the middle of the circle as well and shook his opponent's hand. His oppenent was ****y and stated he'd kill trent's father quickly. trent's father laughed and drew his weapon. With that, the fight began.
The fight went on for two hours, neither showing any signs of letting up or getting tired. Their swords clashed and gridlocked. Each, holding their sword with one hand, pushing against eachother, both trying desperately to get the upper hand when the challenger put his hand behind his back and pulled out a dagger stabbed Trent's father in his chest, peircing the armor and into his flesh. Trent's father dropped to his knees and the challenger kicked him onto his back. Other soldiers were shouting that he cheated and that he should face a death sentence. The king had stated at that moment, "There is no cheating in war. You win or you lose." and the king had retired to his chambers.
The challenger had laughed triumphantly, mocking trent's father when Trent stepped hin front of him and drew his sword. The soldiers were shouting for trent to win and kill him. This brought the king back outside to see what was going on. The king tried to talk trent out of it but Trent ignored him completely. Trent picked up his father's sword, holding it out to his opponent.
They began to fight wildly until coming to a gridlock like the previous one. His opponent reached for the dagger he killed Trent's father with when Trent pulled his sword from the gridlock and sliced off his opponents arm. His opponent had managed to slice through Trent's armor and into the right side of his chest but not deep enough to kill him. Trent stood there watching his opponent in awe about his lost arm. His opponent, filled with rage came at Trent slashing quickly and wildly, trent blocking every one of them until he lost his balance, backing up over his father's corpse. During Trent's slip, his opponent had caught Trent in the face, cutting his left eye out. Trent began to hack at his opponent, blood oozing from his face. Trent had finally obtained the upper hand and decapitated his opponent. The soldiers went wild as Trent picked his opponent's head up and raised it in triumph.
The king then told Trent what the rules of the duel had been and because he had killed the opposing soldier out of anger that he must be exiled from the kingdom. Trent now wanders from around the world, doing what he can for money to support himself.
Name: Azreal
Age: 28
Sex: Male
Height: 6'0''
Race: Caucasian
Build: Medium
Hair: Medium length, brown, normally slicked back
Eyes: An icy blue/gray
Distinct features: A tattoo of the word "Life" in black letter gothic script on his left palm and the same type of lettering for the word "Death" on his right hand. Also he has a slight irish accent.
Clothing: He wears a black and red thin striped button down with a plain black tie and a black blazer with thin gray stripes going down it, over his shirt. He wears black jeans and a pair of black boots. He wears fingerless gloves at times to hide his tattoos. He has a holster under of his blazer for his side arm.
Weapons: His side arm which is kept in the holster under his blazer, the Jericho, which he commonly refers to as the dealer. His primary weapons include a Steyr Scout sniper rifle which is in a guitar case in the trunk of his car and also uses an SAF submachine gun. He also uses combat knives which prove to be his weapon of choice aside from the dealer.
Other abilities: Excellent at parkour/free running and driving.
Personality: Azreal is kind but reserved. He see's every situation in a different light rather than everyone elses perspective. He's very intelligent but stuck in his ways and goes by a strict code.
Background:
Azreal was born to a dying mother and an already dead father in Ireland but his current residence in unkown. His father was killed by his boss over a drug deal gone bad which ended up with Azreal's father being incarcerated. While doing his time, his father's boss had one of his men on the inside kill him for fear of getting arrested. Azreal grew up knowing his mother was very ill and was by her side day in and day out. He took care of her very well and it seemed she was getting better due to the treatment she was getting. The treatment was paid for by Azreal who was not even 18 years old. No one ever questioned how he had gotten the money for such expensive treatment.
By the time of his 16th birthday Azreal was a seasoned assassin. His mother however did not know of this, having been bed ridden for years. That was the way he was getting the money for his mother's treatment. His employers paid him well for his work. He was one of the best in the business. He could make it look like the most inconvenient accident or an obvious act of war. He could even frame someone else for it flawlessly.
On the day of his 17th birthday, Azreal had well over several hundred hits under his belt. Still, no one questioned his line of work. He never failed or half assed any of his assignments. He even did missions for the CIA. No questions answered. The CIA even helped make sure he was untouchable. They passed false information and let it fall through the grape vine so no one would be on his ass investigating and finding the footprints in the paperwork leading to him.
Still, his mother seemed to be on the road to recovery. She was 47 and well on her way to being healthy again. She did nothing but praise Azreal and tell him how good he was to her and how great of a son she had.
Azreal thought, "If only she knew how I've done all this". At this time Azreal had purchased a penthouse and a very, very nice car. Excellent handling, gas mileage and speed.
By the time of his 18th birthday, Azreal had accepted the assignment that would turn his whole world upside down. He was to assassinate a marine who had previous ties with a mob boss and was going to cut them and turn him in. The marine part was left out of his assignment's profile...not only that, he was set up. Someone had called the police about the hit. They'd given all the information they needed to find the location of the hit.
Azreal aborted the mission and fled the scene, giving way to a high speed chase. Once Azreal lost the police, he headed home to get his mother and get out of the country. Once he'd gotten home, parked his car in the underground parking garage with the engine running. He ran upstairs, grabbed his passport and any weapons he had lying around that could be held as evidence against him.
He then went to his mother's room. She lay dead in her bed with her pillow on top of her face. Azreal's knees weakened but he maintained his balance. He was set up in more ways than one. His mother was dead and the police are searching for him. Azreal quickly left his penthouse and took the elevator down to the lobby where police were waiting to take the same elevator up to his penthouse. No one had got a clear glimpse of his face so with his guitar case full of guns he brushed through the mob of police officers going into the elevator.
Azreal knew that his mother's murder would be pinned on him as well as the attempted assassination of the ex-crook turned marine. With those thoughts in his head, he left his home, got in his car, drove to the nearest abandoned lot and torched his car.
Soon after, he withdrew 250,000 dollars from his account and rented an apartment in ****ty neighborhood. He fixed up the apartment which was on the top floor. His bed was on a platform above the door leading into his apartment which was supported by steal beams. This was so he had the upperhand on anyone who tried to break in through the door. There was no fire escape so it was safe to say no one would come in through the windows unless the rapelled off the top of the building. Azreal lives his life pretty normally aside from trying to find the one who framed him. At night he's hitting the bar for some drinks or some pool. He doesnt have any friends but has many aquaintances. Due to his holdings in his bank account he doesnt need a job or anything and since the set up, he's on a hiatus from his "day job".
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