Miles Hummel (Ready)
Nov 6, 2016 17:25:58 GMT -4
Post by Miles Hummel on Nov 6, 2016 17:25:58 GMT -4
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[attr="class","hopelove"]
[attr="class","hopelovename"] [attr="class","hopelovename2"] MILES HUMMEL [attr="class","hopelovelyric"]
[attr="class","hopeloveleft"]NICKNAMES(S) // grandpa, dad, slag slayer [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]AGE // Forty three [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]GENDER // Male [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]ALIGNMENT // Chaotic Neutral [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]RACE // Human [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]ANCESTRY // N/A [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]ROLE // Jack-of-all-Trades [attr="class","hopeloveleft"]CLASS // War Dog |
[attr="class","hopelovetitle"]PERSONALITY & APPEARANCE
[attr="class","hopelovetop"]
Appearance:
[break]As rough-looking as he is rough-talking, Miles at the very least looks especially in shape for his age; bristling with defined muscles that betray his violent job – assuming the hundreds of tiny scars hidden around their edges don’t do that already. Standing at 6’4” (193cm) and weighing about 180lb (81kg), his stature certainly backs up his musculature, cutting a figure typical of an ideal soldier – unfortunately, his appearance would never dream of matching the formality that ought to come with that role. With rough brown hair that looks like it has only been trimmed by stray arrows or dragon’s breath that weaves one awkward blade down his back in a ponytail, Miles certainly looks like as much of a mess as most mercenaries. His hair messily frames dim hazel eyes, and he is almost always set in a bit of a slouch, as if his waist is just a bit too much for the rest of him.
[break]
[break]Unsurprisingly, Miles’ clothes are about as much of a mess as the rest of him; scrambled together from bits and pieces of his old uniform and whatever else he can find – and yet, he holds his outfit with an odd respect regardless of how roughly he treats it. The tunic and gloves from his war days, mail from his merc days, trousers from his groom’s outfit, boots from his old teammate, a bundle of belts to try and hold it all together and keep it out of the way of his sword… it all means a little this and that to him, so while he’ll scoff at the thought of wearing something more worthwhile in his line of work he’ll just as grumpily refuse to wear anything else in the first place. Armour is for wusses, and suits and dresses are for girls!
[break]
[break]Personality:
[break]Grumpy, gruff, and violent – Miles is not one for sweet-talking anyone or anything; and any modicum of manners are damn well out of the question as well. If he’s not in a fight, he’s all too happy to start one; as his blunt and stubborn nature often does. Cynical and pragmatic, Miles is certainly good on the field with how straightforward he is, but when it comes to anything social… well, it’s best you just give him a stiff drink and hope he’s distracted. He’s never one to hold his tongue on an opinion no matter how harsh or troublesome it might be, and is all too eager to get in over his head for its sake… even more so if he has to throw a punch to prove his point.
[break]That being said, Miles doesn’t have a bad bone in his body despite how easily irritated and bitter he might come off as. Though extremely quick to judge people, he definitely appreciates anyone who can keep up with his expectations (if that’s even possible) and anyone who throws off his insults and can prove him wrong (though he’d never admit it). Frankly, he’s just happy if someone listens to him, so in general one can take his snarling attitude with a pinch of sugar. His background wasn’t exactly any good for giving him social skills, so he certainly struggles with talking to people outside of a fight.
[break]
[break]In the end, the most important thing to Miles is his family – he’s definitely a ‘daddy’ at heart, doting on his daughter and wife above all else despite his rough demeanour. Even if he might be humiliated or troubled by what he has to do for their sake, he couldn’t care less, as some things are just more important than him. Being ‘nice’ isn’t something he’s very good at it for the most part, but it’s easy to sneak a genunine smile out of him if his family becomes the subject at any point – just don’t expect to him to give much beyond endless praise for them… well, besides the occasional teasing jab at his wife.
[break]
[break]Hobbies: Miles is hardly one for hobbies – getting into fights is his number on hobby and number one job, so he isn’t a big fan of anything in between. That said, he still has his soft spots, particularly when it comes to matters of family. He likes to make a habit of helping out townsfolk when he has the time, knowing well the tough times one can run into on the lowest rungs of the Empire. Of course, his own family comes above anything like that, so he often spends his spare evenings writing letters for his wife and daughter, or even for his own parents. However, the casual soul is probably most likely going to catch him working on his sword or armour – he’s not really one to put his sentimental side on show, to say the least.[break]
Likes: Down-to-earth people, confidence, self-respect, children, idealism[break]
Dislikes: Arguments, egotists, politics, ‘fancy garbage’, idealism[break]
Appearance:
[break]As rough-looking as he is rough-talking, Miles at the very least looks especially in shape for his age; bristling with defined muscles that betray his violent job – assuming the hundreds of tiny scars hidden around their edges don’t do that already. Standing at 6’4” (193cm) and weighing about 180lb (81kg), his stature certainly backs up his musculature, cutting a figure typical of an ideal soldier – unfortunately, his appearance would never dream of matching the formality that ought to come with that role. With rough brown hair that looks like it has only been trimmed by stray arrows or dragon’s breath that weaves one awkward blade down his back in a ponytail, Miles certainly looks like as much of a mess as most mercenaries. His hair messily frames dim hazel eyes, and he is almost always set in a bit of a slouch, as if his waist is just a bit too much for the rest of him.
[break]
[break]Unsurprisingly, Miles’ clothes are about as much of a mess as the rest of him; scrambled together from bits and pieces of his old uniform and whatever else he can find – and yet, he holds his outfit with an odd respect regardless of how roughly he treats it. The tunic and gloves from his war days, mail from his merc days, trousers from his groom’s outfit, boots from his old teammate, a bundle of belts to try and hold it all together and keep it out of the way of his sword… it all means a little this and that to him, so while he’ll scoff at the thought of wearing something more worthwhile in his line of work he’ll just as grumpily refuse to wear anything else in the first place. Armour is for wusses, and suits and dresses are for girls!
[break]
[break]Personality:
[break]Grumpy, gruff, and violent – Miles is not one for sweet-talking anyone or anything; and any modicum of manners are damn well out of the question as well. If he’s not in a fight, he’s all too happy to start one; as his blunt and stubborn nature often does. Cynical and pragmatic, Miles is certainly good on the field with how straightforward he is, but when it comes to anything social… well, it’s best you just give him a stiff drink and hope he’s distracted. He’s never one to hold his tongue on an opinion no matter how harsh or troublesome it might be, and is all too eager to get in over his head for its sake… even more so if he has to throw a punch to prove his point.
[break]That being said, Miles doesn’t have a bad bone in his body despite how easily irritated and bitter he might come off as. Though extremely quick to judge people, he definitely appreciates anyone who can keep up with his expectations (if that’s even possible) and anyone who throws off his insults and can prove him wrong (though he’d never admit it). Frankly, he’s just happy if someone listens to him, so in general one can take his snarling attitude with a pinch of sugar. His background wasn’t exactly any good for giving him social skills, so he certainly struggles with talking to people outside of a fight.
[break]
[break]In the end, the most important thing to Miles is his family – he’s definitely a ‘daddy’ at heart, doting on his daughter and wife above all else despite his rough demeanour. Even if he might be humiliated or troubled by what he has to do for their sake, he couldn’t care less, as some things are just more important than him. Being ‘nice’ isn’t something he’s very good at it for the most part, but it’s easy to sneak a genunine smile out of him if his family becomes the subject at any point – just don’t expect to him to give much beyond endless praise for them… well, besides the occasional teasing jab at his wife.
[break]
[break]Hobbies: Miles is hardly one for hobbies – getting into fights is his number on hobby and number one job, so he isn’t a big fan of anything in between. That said, he still has his soft spots, particularly when it comes to matters of family. He likes to make a habit of helping out townsfolk when he has the time, knowing well the tough times one can run into on the lowest rungs of the Empire. Of course, his own family comes above anything like that, so he often spends his spare evenings writing letters for his wife and daughter, or even for his own parents. However, the casual soul is probably most likely going to catch him working on his sword or armour – he’s not really one to put his sentimental side on show, to say the least.[break]
Likes: Down-to-earth people, confidence, self-respect, children, idealism[break]
Dislikes: Arguments, egotists, politics, ‘fancy garbage’, idealism[break]
[attr="class","hopelovetitle"]BIOGRAPHY
[attr="class","hopelovetop"]
Like many who ended up in the military lifestyle, Miles was once but a young man who was growing up to be a lumberjack – plenty of experience wielding something very sharp, a lot of muscle training, and a bit of time spent chasing around plenty of things with claws bigger than his hands made him an inevitable choice when the levy came scouting. But, even then, he was something of a complacent soul, accepting the call without a struggle; lest his family get in trouble in his place. Besides, the work paid nicely and it would definitely make for some good stories. And the job – well, most soldiers didn’t even get the battlefield, right?
[break]
[break]Of course, none of that stopped Miles from getting into trouble all over the place on the way to even his initial rank and file; his confidence and stubbornness making many a commanding officer spit their dummy around him. Some with reason, some without – but either way, Miles was met with many a flogging and potato peeling duty; but he’d give nary a complaint… he damn well wouldn’t give them the pleasure. His combat skills suffered from similar results: he was fit, for sure, and strong as an ox, maybe even twice as sturdy! But he wasn’t about to listen to any kind of formal teaching, and all too often ended sparring matches far too early with some pragmatic application of foot to head… suffice to say, he was marked as a ‘recruit’ for longer than some of his superiors had been training for.
[break]
[break]Things changed a bit when he was tossed into scouting duty – a routine operation, but as any good story should go, it ended in disaster. Wyvern this, ambush that, a peppering of blood and bone; exactly what any new soldier would loath to face… army training didn’t match monsters well at all. That suited Miles just fine, of course. Amongst a team of young greenhorns, he was all too comfortable mashing villainous lizards and balls of furry misfortune; turning the tide almost singlehandedly. He’d finally gotten a good story to himself now, but his superiors were all the more interested – with all those rough new lands the Empire was conquering and awkwardly settling, a monster patrol was becoming a more and more appealing prospect… and so, Miles found himself a new job. A much more suitable one. And, one he misses a little to this day, but you’ll only hear him say so after four mugs of mead when the sun dips the clouds in red and pink…
[break]
[break]Predominantly made up of disgruntled veterans of the Empire of Ende’s military and local folk heroes, Otselotovaya Khvatka was a loosely organised unit of fighters who were best fit for monster hunting rather than traditional military work; relied upon to clean up conquered territories during wartimes and crack down on any monster outbreaks during peacetimes. It wasn’t fancy work, it wasn’t orderly, and it damn well wasn’t glamourous – but for ruffians like Miles, it was the best job one could have. Mocked by the rest of the military at first as the ‘Slag Slayers’, the unit immediately started giving good results once they were deployed. With only a handful of rules and the right amount of money on the table, the war dogs were brutally effective with their mishmash of members and skills; using anything to handle the worst the world had to throw at them. Their tactics were the kind soldiers would fear; scrapping with poisons, explosives, traps and mobs… if the animals were ruthless, then the Otselotovaya Khvatka were even worse.
[break]
[break]Though they carried glory from the towns they protected, their golden days couldn’t possibly last forever. Injuries and age began to wear the team down, and work began to become far more scarce… as the Empire could hardly afford more warmongering, the team’s use was becoming solely defensive – still a necessity, but the hamlets could take care of themselves in due time. Big nasty beasts were becoming a bit scarce in the lands they already worked in, after all… gradually, the group had to face the decision: the resignation of the Otselotovaya Khvatka was on the cards. Miles was the last one to stand by it; desperately clinging to those glorious days, but even he realised it couldn’t last forever…
[break]
[break]Regardless of the wealth his family now sat upon, Miles lusted after monster hunting and mercenary work as always after the unit was terminated – and through these days of wandering, he came upon his next big hitch. A half-oni lady enticed him on quest of monster slaying once more during his travels, and for a few months he was back in action… anything for another battle he had to win through the skin of his teeth. His work for her exotic cooking business ended up leading into a much greater battle than he’d ever expected, and on a battlefield he had no hope of winning on… fighting for a fair dame wasn’t really his area of expertise! But, at thirty he finally married the woman of his dreams… and a daughter came only a few years after, forcing him to settle down at long last.
[break]
[break]But riches, a lady he loved, nor even a daughter he utterly adored could keep Miles from another good scrap. Velen called for adventurers, and Miles called for an adventure… they might call him old, out of shape, even retired; but he wouldn’t walk away from another good fight. His wife understood entirely, knowing him all too well at this point – and his daughter merely demanded a letter every week in return. Even with a family on his shoulders, Miles couldn’t possibly look back as he arrived in Hyo Shin… it was where he had to be. Some dark nights, he does think that maybe he ought to still be by his new family’s side, but he has already found his answer – he just found a new thing worth fighting for.
Like many who ended up in the military lifestyle, Miles was once but a young man who was growing up to be a lumberjack – plenty of experience wielding something very sharp, a lot of muscle training, and a bit of time spent chasing around plenty of things with claws bigger than his hands made him an inevitable choice when the levy came scouting. But, even then, he was something of a complacent soul, accepting the call without a struggle; lest his family get in trouble in his place. Besides, the work paid nicely and it would definitely make for some good stories. And the job – well, most soldiers didn’t even get the battlefield, right?
[break]
[break]Of course, none of that stopped Miles from getting into trouble all over the place on the way to even his initial rank and file; his confidence and stubbornness making many a commanding officer spit their dummy around him. Some with reason, some without – but either way, Miles was met with many a flogging and potato peeling duty; but he’d give nary a complaint… he damn well wouldn’t give them the pleasure. His combat skills suffered from similar results: he was fit, for sure, and strong as an ox, maybe even twice as sturdy! But he wasn’t about to listen to any kind of formal teaching, and all too often ended sparring matches far too early with some pragmatic application of foot to head… suffice to say, he was marked as a ‘recruit’ for longer than some of his superiors had been training for.
[break]
[break]Things changed a bit when he was tossed into scouting duty – a routine operation, but as any good story should go, it ended in disaster. Wyvern this, ambush that, a peppering of blood and bone; exactly what any new soldier would loath to face… army training didn’t match monsters well at all. That suited Miles just fine, of course. Amongst a team of young greenhorns, he was all too comfortable mashing villainous lizards and balls of furry misfortune; turning the tide almost singlehandedly. He’d finally gotten a good story to himself now, but his superiors were all the more interested – with all those rough new lands the Empire was conquering and awkwardly settling, a monster patrol was becoming a more and more appealing prospect… and so, Miles found himself a new job. A much more suitable one. And, one he misses a little to this day, but you’ll only hear him say so after four mugs of mead when the sun dips the clouds in red and pink…
[break]
[break]Predominantly made up of disgruntled veterans of the Empire of Ende’s military and local folk heroes, Otselotovaya Khvatka was a loosely organised unit of fighters who were best fit for monster hunting rather than traditional military work; relied upon to clean up conquered territories during wartimes and crack down on any monster outbreaks during peacetimes. It wasn’t fancy work, it wasn’t orderly, and it damn well wasn’t glamourous – but for ruffians like Miles, it was the best job one could have. Mocked by the rest of the military at first as the ‘Slag Slayers’, the unit immediately started giving good results once they were deployed. With only a handful of rules and the right amount of money on the table, the war dogs were brutally effective with their mishmash of members and skills; using anything to handle the worst the world had to throw at them. Their tactics were the kind soldiers would fear; scrapping with poisons, explosives, traps and mobs… if the animals were ruthless, then the Otselotovaya Khvatka were even worse.
[break]
[break]Though they carried glory from the towns they protected, their golden days couldn’t possibly last forever. Injuries and age began to wear the team down, and work began to become far more scarce… as the Empire could hardly afford more warmongering, the team’s use was becoming solely defensive – still a necessity, but the hamlets could take care of themselves in due time. Big nasty beasts were becoming a bit scarce in the lands they already worked in, after all… gradually, the group had to face the decision: the resignation of the Otselotovaya Khvatka was on the cards. Miles was the last one to stand by it; desperately clinging to those glorious days, but even he realised it couldn’t last forever…
[break]
[break]Regardless of the wealth his family now sat upon, Miles lusted after monster hunting and mercenary work as always after the unit was terminated – and through these days of wandering, he came upon his next big hitch. A half-oni lady enticed him on quest of monster slaying once more during his travels, and for a few months he was back in action… anything for another battle he had to win through the skin of his teeth. His work for her exotic cooking business ended up leading into a much greater battle than he’d ever expected, and on a battlefield he had no hope of winning on… fighting for a fair dame wasn’t really his area of expertise! But, at thirty he finally married the woman of his dreams… and a daughter came only a few years after, forcing him to settle down at long last.
[break]
[break]But riches, a lady he loved, nor even a daughter he utterly adored could keep Miles from another good scrap. Velen called for adventurers, and Miles called for an adventure… they might call him old, out of shape, even retired; but he wouldn’t walk away from another good fight. His wife understood entirely, knowing him all too well at this point – and his daughter merely demanded a letter every week in return. Even with a family on his shoulders, Miles couldn’t possibly look back as he arrived in Hyo Shin… it was where he had to be. Some dark nights, he does think that maybe he ought to still be by his new family’s side, but he has already found his answer – he just found a new thing worth fighting for.
[attr="class","hopelovetitle"]ABILITIES & EQUIPMENT
[attr="class","hopelovetop"]
Class Description: Too undisciplined or dangerous for proper military work but too valuable an asset to be left out of harm’s way; War Dogs are the leftovers of countries’ battles who have all the grit and experience of a soldier but none of the honour or rank. Comparable to privateers or mercenaries, they rely on pragmatism and ruthlessness to win their fights; though the unique styles of these wanderers vary significantly in no small part due to their inherent lack of organisation. But, they have one principle they all definitely share – they cannot afford to rely on others; lest they lose their last lease on life.[break]
[break]Passives:
Class Skills:
General Skills:
[break]Armor:
Weapons:[break]
[break]Inventory:
[break]A box of cigars and a flask of whiskey for the occasional rough day out, as well as his set of nailbombs; kept amongst his many belts.
Class Description: Too undisciplined or dangerous for proper military work but too valuable an asset to be left out of harm’s way; War Dogs are the leftovers of countries’ battles who have all the grit and experience of a soldier but none of the honour or rank. Comparable to privateers or mercenaries, they rely on pragmatism and ruthlessness to win their fights; though the unique styles of these wanderers vary significantly in no small part due to their inherent lack of organisation. But, they have one principle they all definitely share – they cannot afford to rely on others; lest they lose their last lease on life.[break]
[break]Passives:
- Igniter :: While having experience and skill beyond many of his adventuring peers, Miles would be the first to admit that he’s pretty out of practice, so he takes a while to get going in any scuffle. Any time that Miles spends in combat gets his blood boiling again, until he feels like he’s on top of his game once more. After three posts in combat in a row, Miles is back in action – while in this state his attacks will shatter attempts to guard them and stagger most foes, at least not without superhuman or magical efforts far beyond any average human. Additionally, this state can be consumed in order to use some of his active Class Skills. Whenever Miles uses one of his skills that uses his charged Igniter skill, the passive resets to how it was at the start of combat again; requiring him to build up another three posts of combat straight again to restart the effect.
Class Skills:
- Slag Slayer :: A brutish attack that gradually became the signature of Miles in his years as a would-be mercenary. Simply punching or kicking out the legs (or more typically, the front legs) of his target, Miles then ploughs his sword’s edge down on their head; or simply slices down their chest, should his foe be of a more monstrous nature. A move made to end fights as quickly as possible making use of his immensely heavy sword’s weight, the Slag Slayer is ideal for killing monsters in particular – however, in his later years, Miles hasn’t always got the energy to throw his sword’s weight around in such a grandiose fashion. In order to use Slag Slayer nowadays, he has to be properly fired up – his Igniter passive must be active; and using Slag Slayer will cut it short.
- Fafnir :: With his spirit reignited, Miles forces himself onwards despite everything in his way; releasing a second wind of utmost grit, not heroism. Unleashing his fury, Miles seems to spark with flame for a glimpse before pushing forward… clearly he’s gotten too much tutelage from his wife if there’s any magic involved. This skill burns and breaks any bonds or physically limiting effects, and giving an on-going adrenaline effect that allows Miles to ignore his minor injuries – definitely not healing, but as close as a human can get without magic. Unsurprisingly, Miles has to be ready to cut loose in order to use this skill – his Igniter passive must be active, and using Fafnir will end it early.
General Skills:
- Nailbomb :: An improvised explosive made up of a metal casing filled with sharpened fragments of scrap metal and a brittle vial of alchemists’ fire held steady by a tin rod that sticks out of the container. When hit against a surface after the holding pin is removed, the alchemists’ fire over pressurises the container and causes it to detonate, flinging the metal fragments around the area. While novel, the improvised nature of the weapon makes it utterly unwieldy – the fragments rarely cause significant injuries, and the detonation can stutter and delay, among other technical problems. Miles only carries three of these at any one time; and requires some downtime outside of an adventure to manage to rustle up anymore – as one might expect, he’s not too good at such fiddly work.
- Ground Dasher :: Slamming his sword’s point into the ground before flicking it upwards, Miles raises a plume of dirt, dust, and whatever else happens to be underfoot in the moment high in the air in a semicircle in front of him; making for a makeshift smokescreen in the heat of the moment and blinding anyone unlucky enough to be directly in the line of fire; friend or foe.[break]
[break]Equipment[break]
[break]Armor:
- Reunion :: Medium :: E Quality :: A mess of leather, chainmail, metal, and whatever else Miles has cobbled together in his journeys. Though not really that durable compared to proper armour, he replaces parts almost every week, giving it a sturdiness all of its own.
- Accesory :: Locked
- Accesory :: Locked
Weapons:[break]
- Gravedigger :: Melee :: E Quality :: A ‘sword’ that has since ended up as more of a club, no matter how many times Miles might insist that it’s still a sword. According to him, it was indeed an actual sword, but after shoving on multiple layers of old steel plating to ‘reinforce’ it, it’s ended up as more of a rectangular mace with an odd handle. And an… unsurprising name, if not a very good one.
[break]Inventory:
[break]A box of cigars and a flask of whiskey for the occasional rough day out, as well as his set of nailbombs; kept amongst his many belts.
[attr="class","hopelovebot1"]
PLAYED BY Tulf
PLAYED BY Tulf
[attr="class","hopelovebot2"]
[b]GUILTY GEAR, Sol Badguy[/b] as [i]miles hummel[/i]
[b]GUILTY GEAR, Sol Badguy[/b] as [i]miles hummel[/i]
Credit: PHARAOH LEAP.
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