Krieg Jaeger
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
| File:Omgwtfkriegsketch.jpg | |
| A Sketch of the mercenary taken by a channeler communicating to postmortem witness. | |
| Krieg Jaeger | |
| Player: Krieg | |
| Origin: | Natural |
|---|---|
| Archetype: | Brute |
| Threat Level: | Threat level unknown ( it fluctuates ) |
| Personal Data | |
| Real Name: | Unknown |
| Known Aliases: | Mercenary,Heilig Faust(holy fist in German) |
| Species: | Human ( +?) |
| Age: | N/A (appears early twenties) |
| Height: | 6'3 |
| Weight: | 250 lbs |
| Eye Color: | Blue |
| Hair Color: | Brown |
| Biographical Data | |
| Nationality: | N/A (presumed German) |
| Occupation: | Mercenary |
| Place of Birth: | N/A (presumed Germany) |
| Base of Operations: | N/A |
| Marital Status: | Unknown |
| Known Relatives: | N/A (presumed deceased) |
| Known Powers | |
| N/A (Does not classify as a meta-human) | |
| Known Abilities | |
| Self stylized CQC techniques, integrated weaponry, small unit tactics, multi-lingual, advanced knowledge of modern and ultramodern warfare and weapons.Adept at electronic warfare, as well as the art of seduction. | |
| Equipment | |
| ultramodern exo-suit combat system (Assault Reconnaissance Covert-ops suit [ARC suit]) with integrated weaponry. | |
| No additional information available. | |
Contents |
E.L.I.T.E Report: Jaeger, Krieg
Krieg is a rather elusive individual.... For years he has scoured the globe, moving from one conflict to the next, constantly selling his rather effective skills to, get this, the losing side. It's not really that bad of a business move however, with his powerful arsenal of ultramodern weapons, his vast array of tactics, both field, mechanized, squad and covert. He has shown more than once that a single, powerful, and motivated solider can turn the tide of a battle. Though always in the interest of prolonging the conflict by way of joining the previously-victorious-and-now-losing side in order to create a constant cycle where no side can get the upper hand.
Having been spotted as early as the second world war, there are a lot of questions as to why he continues to fight, with an estimated net worth of 5.6 trillion eruos, based on competed operations, its a wonder why he still takes contracts. And yet, this is merely considered a fraction of his wealth. Considering the vast majority of his contracts were covert, lost or deemed unsavory by his client, and thus, all records destroyed, or never documented to begin with.
It is currently under investigation as to his parent organization, if there even is one, and their motives, and, failing to find a sponsor, his personal motives. The likes of which are known only to him, as far as we can decipher.
Despite his status as a living legend amongst mercenaries, his incredible infamy, and a list documented sorties that would take you days just to scratch the preface, hardly anything is actually known about him. As in, the man himself.
Even his name, translating into "war hunter" or "Hunter of war" in German, sounds more along the lines of a title, nickname, or alias, rather than a given name. All we have are a few sketches taken by mystics who communed with his victims, a couple of blurry photo's that make bigfoot shots look like the mona lisa.
Regardless, all we have to start on is his tech, his style of CQC, and of course, Germany. Not much, but at least it's something....
Affiliations
The various mercenary of the groups all have to compete with the various freelancers running about the rouge isles and paragon, and Krieg is no different, the Sky raiders, Knives of Artemis, Wyvern are all valid competitors for contracts. Though Wyvern is less so, as Krieg rarely does work in paragon due to their overwhelming advantage over the isles, thus, doing his part to prolong the conflict. There are also some mysterious ties to the 5th column and the Malta group. He harbors and extreme hatred for goldbrickers, referring to them as "Yuppies with jet packs".
Investigations into ties
There have been a few thorough investigations into his alleged ties, in search of a parent organization, or an origin we can use to unravel the miasma of enigmatic lack of information surrounding him.
Due to his name, and the names of his techniques and equipment being German, we decided that as a decent place to start. Some of his documented contracts, while plenty predate "the big one" there are quite a few that took place. For both sides, however, so it is unlikely he is a specific agent of the reich. Or was, rather.
As for investigations into the fifth column, his cutting edge tech and incredible physical aspects (Though genetic engineering is suspected, we have not been able to verify, though it is apparent his abilities are far beyond the scope of what a "normal" human could hope to achieve) certainly fit the bill, as well as the German origin, it would seem. Though, any records tying him to the fifth, were destroyed in the takeover, or transferred to the secure vaults of the council. Trade German nazi's for Italian ones, and not much changes. Including the tight seal on their records.
Though, all in all, Krieg's profile doesn't fit the fanatical, fascist build of a nazi, much less, one of the fifth column.
Investigations into a shadowy group, utilizing ultra high tech, and operatives, primarily, natural in origin, have turned up a few interesting things. For one, Krieg did in fact work for this "Malta group" here and there, but only in the context of treating them like any other client. The fact that he works for anyone, and runs free, as well as being well known (at least in terms of reputation) doesn't quite meet the profile of a clandestine organization that hates lose ends.
So, here we are. Square one once more. We'll be waiting for a lucky break if it comes along, but if this guy really has been operating for over two hundred years, and he hasn't left a scrap yet, I doubt he's going to.
But two hundred years is a long time to go without screwing up...
Personality
Krieg is usually professional under most circumstances, his frigid, azure eyes and stoic demeanor give him a melancholy aura,that of a remorseless solider, operating without regrets. Which isn't far from the truth. Though he is usually what can be described as cold (cold being an understatement as to the degree of calling the arctic circle merely "cold") and emotionless, he can sometimes get a bit stirred up when he finds a challenge, usually trading kudos or cynical remarks, with the occasional dose of sarcasm that belies a cruel and calculating intellect that lies inches below his stoic exterior.
Every action and word spoken has a calculated effect and underlying purpose, some sort of stratagem often based on either goading his enemies into carelessness or planting seeds of doubt and terror into his opponents. There are numerous layers of complexity within conflicts and wars, thousands of tiny battles to be fought and sacrifices to be made before the fighting even commences, and billions more during. From the tiniest nuance to the greatest decision, Krieg has mastered nearly all, taking opportunities as they arise, and creating them when they don't, a avid student of the art of war, he lets no advantage go un-used, and any possible dis-advantage either nullified, destroyed, hidden from his enemies or twisted and manipulated into yet another advantage of which to be used to its greatest effect.
This is how Krieg sees the world, through analysis and opportunism, he takes hold of what he can use, and destroys what can aid his enemies, no one or thing is sacred or too important to be manipulated for his ends. Because of this, he is often quiet and observant, and has few true allies, and for good reason. Though despite his mercenary nature and his opportunistic methods, he is still very loyal to comrades and client, for the duration of a contract at least. Never using one contract to gain any sort of advantage on another and strictly adhering to it's guidelines.
The Heilig Faust
The Heilig Faust is a custom made CQC variant. It utilizes incredibly powerful single strikes, sometimes in succession, throws and disarms designed to kill quickly and efficiently. The Largest difference between CQC and a martial art, is while most martial arts are designed to fight an opponent with honor, or to defend one's self, CQC is designed to quickly kill you opponents, using every weakness in the human body without hesitation, as well as the incorporation of modern firearms and ultramodern technology.
The CQC Style
For one thing, his style is based upon high powered and quick single strikes, or flurries, disarms, and throws. However, what truly makes his style devastating, is intricate knowledge of various anatomy and structural weak points in the bodies and forms of virtually any foe he could possibly face. A quick scan with his goggles can almost always bring up detailed information from a scan, on not only all documented information, but physical data as well.
Knowing the weak points and vital spots of his foes, allows him to strike in locations in which will cause the highest amount of structural damage to vital points possible, thus, bypassing their armor or defenses to some degree. Additionally, his strikes often effect the nervous system of his victims, or the processing centers in those without, thus, making their motions uncoordinated and less accurate, blurring of vision, slurring of speech, or total unconsciousness can occur from just a few simple strikes.
((For all simple strikes punch,smite,maul, etc etc, they are simple punches, chops, and nerve strikes.
For his end drain and heal...))
His style is incredibly efficient, even in the midst of combat, he has been known not to make a single, unnecessary movement, striking an enemy, even while injecting himself with adrenaline or medical hypo's.
((End drain is a move that hits everyone in the area [sweep kick, roundhouse, swinging a weapon, etc etc] while inject himself with a stimulant, whereas the other is a strike while injecting a hypo))
He has also been known to use a combat knife, constructed of materials that remain a mystery to virtually all known agencies that have been able to analyze it, and extending blades on his medium, of a similar alloy, as well as a pilebunker on his heavy armor. ((This is what the axe is rp'ed as.))
He has also been able to hack the medical transport grids, and use his own method of teleportation as well, to travel virtually instantaneously to virtually any location. Though there seems to be a time required to prepare for longer range jumps, and time to recover.
ARC Suit
A specialized military exo-suit, no one is quite sure how he came about it, though that is not to say such a device would be difficult for someone in his position with his kind of funds to obtain. The ultralight and flexible suit allows for a complete range of movement, not hampering the wearer in any way, shape, or form, while the armor itself is ultra-dense and incredibly resilient. Comparisons have been made to impervium, though the ridiculously rare and resilient material appears to be exclusively available to vanguard and vanguard affilates alone.
Despite that however, the suit is proof in itself that either the rare metal is not as inaccessible as some would have people believe, or that there are alternatives. Regardless, the suits resilience and mobility is only matched by its customize ability, hidden within the gauntlets, under the small shields that cover his forearms, are two 40 MM multipurpose launchers, of which he can launch 40 MM depleted uranium slugs ((the RP'd power of hurl)), other shells may be designed and implemented at a later date.
As an update, I've received reports of him using a couple variations of the suit, consisting of a light version, in which he uses the goggles, I would assume they assist in targeting, and act as a computer interface, along with the mere under layer of his suit, and a tactical vest. While the form fitting material may seem simple, it is not to be under estimated. Something akin to longbow's own "Magic Longjohns", the spandex lookin armor that can take a 50. round like a pellet gun. Though I have to admit, at least he has the taste to wear some pants.[1]
The other, is a incredibly advanced combat suit, consisting of the toso armor he normally wears, with incredible reinforcement, integrated weaponry, as well as full life support, and the ability to operate in virtually any environment, including a vacuum. Details are sketchy at best, though at the least, we have some capabilities, and a name.
"Vernichtung"
Surveillance tapes, witness reports, and other acquired visual data
(work in progress)
History (Spoiler alert!)
Origins (prologue)
Krieg Jaeger has no memory of his past, prior to leaving the shattered remains of a dilapidated laboratory, in which he acquired his armor, hidden amongst the black forest of Germany, circa 1821
Though he was at the age of five at the time, he had the appearance of a young man of twenty years old, with Olympian muscular and bone structure, pale, chiseled features, along with skills and talents, far exceeding what any normal human could hope to achieve.
Intimate knowledge of virtually every weapon existing in the world at the time, as well as those that would be invented, and some that would be brought by other means. Combat skills and tactics of which had not yet been conceived, battles of which had not occurred yet, to be used as reference. Charm of which virtually no man was immune, and the powers of seduction of which no woman could resist, despite having met neither in his short existence...save one..
Krieg was developed by a strange organization, in a parallel dimension. In a world where humanity is ruled by vicious dictators, constantly struggling against one another in an attempt to subjugate the world. Where various corporations use their singular abilities to aid the ambitions of each, playing all sides of all conflicts, searching only to profit, while the average man or woman is beset by all manners of poverty, the only escape, being to join the ranks of a psychotic dictator, or the cut throat corporate world that aids them.
The restraints of morals brought on by religion, the fear of eventual retribution for your actions gone. As all religion had never held steed. Only technological progress, and science. As such, there was little guidance for laws, those strong enough to take what they wanted, were respected, or feared for their ability to do so. The weak stayed weak, while the strong grew further, until they pushed themselves too far, or ran afoul someone more powerful than they.
In a world without morals, an ancient story was told. One of a savior, brought on by a virgin. Who held no hatred in his heart for his enemies, only pity.
Eventually, when the means was gained, an organization was formed,Erlösung.
Salvation.
Origins (The beginning)
A mercenary, powerful, graceful, deadly, known only as "Weiss Wolfe", gained a reputation as one of the strongest, and desired contractors in existence. Having completed thousands of sortie over numerous dimensions, times, worlds and conflicts, the mercenary was a living legend. A god of chaos and destruction.
And more notably. A woman.
Beautiful as she was lethal, her skills were legion, as were her potential suitors. There was not a man in existence that didn't know of her, seeking her power, and her beauty. Though, while she used such things to her advantage, she had never given herself completely to any man. She was not to be dominated, nor was she ever to "lose".
Few took her lack of interest well, especially those amongst the elite, as they though themselves. Many tried to take her by force. But even so, there was no match for such a woman. Many a treachery, foolhardy assault, and other attempt to coerce or force themselves upon her, ended in vast lakes of the blood of her attempted dominator's and their cronies. Though this discouraged many, it never completely stopped. Naturally, there were always those that thought they were somehow better, different, than the others, and would succeed where they failed.
One such man, was right.
The Conception
Amongst the weak, the oppressed, the downtrodden, there were those who banded together, who fought for equality, for peace, and for freedom. Many studied religion, finding strength in faith, and power in morals. Striking only at the unjust and the deserving, rather than people just trying to live their lives. In such, they gained support, in terms of manpower and funds. Eventually, they gained enough to contract a corporation for a very, special project.
A warrior, superb in all aspects, with no methods of control, as those of the corporations required, no limits on his power. His abilities to near omnipotence, and his talents, legion. A genetically engineered solider capable of striking against those who held power, evening out the playing field for average people to rise up, and act without oppression, to seek justice without losing their heads. To allow mankind to create a world where all men and women truly were equal.
But it could not be a machine, as such a thing was not capable of understand and upholding morals. They could not allow some monstrosity, some abomination of man, to be entrusted with this task. They would need the best to train him, the inherent skill and instinct of a great warrior, and the morals of a saint.
Two out of three ain't bad.
Weiss Wolfe accepted their plea, though, just barely. With a team of technicians , and the leader of the organization watching from above, they injected her eggs with the seed of hope. Biologically modified, enhanced, but only so much as to reach the peak of human abilities, and no more.
For months, Wolfe worked tirelessly to help the resistance with it's training, even with the growing lump in her stomach, she ran, marched, and fought, just as hard as any of them, and even when the child finally did not permit her to do so, she helped them modify and manufacture weapons, teaching in classrooms battles long past, the ingenious tactics and fatal errors that made them relevant, and what could have been.
Though her mission here had began as just that, yet another job, with the bulge in her abdomen nothing but a nuisance, she found herself lying naked at night, sliding a hand over the lump, smiling gently, and cooing to the yet unborn warrior who would deliver them all.
When the day finally came, the pains and exertions of childbirth as tormenting as any wound she had sustained in battle, but with so much more purpose...as she finally ended her labors, tears streaming down her face, as she held the young, pale child in her arms, gazing deeply into his brilliant azure eyes, a serene smile on her face.
The good ol days
The leader of the organization was enraged. He had taken every precaution, ever little nuance and possibility seen to, and yet, he had been cheated once more. The child was a boy. He had long ago decided if he could not have Wolfe, he would have the next best thing, but at this, he was infuriated.
Though despite it all, he attempted to hide his emotions, and congratulate the new mother on her success. He was lucky to crawl out of the operating room. The child had done nothing to soften her, and now that she had a reason to live, she protected him fiercely from any possible threat.
Though, as he grew, many learned that while Wolfe would keep him protected from anyone, and anything that would dare to even think unkindly of him. There was no one to protect him, from her.
She trained him viciously, having grown to the mental capacity of a young man, with the body to match, after a mere six months. The genetic manipulation, a scientist had managed to gasp with the air Wolfe allowed to pass through his neck, from between her fingers, would cause him to age incredibly quick to maturity, though he would never age beyond that. In terms of aging and sickness, he was immortal. Hearing this, she further increased his, already inhuman, training regimen.
She pushed him as hard as she could, out of her intense love for him. Every drop of sweat, blood, and tear, tore her to pieces inside. But for his own sake, if he was to survive against impossible odds, he had to be prepared for everything, to be able to fight anyone, and to deal with the most impossible of situations with ease. She taught him everything she knew, and then some.
Each night, he tumbled, barely conscious into bed, she followed, and slept beside him, wrapping him in her protective embrace, tears of sorrow over the pain she had cause him, finally let flow, and the strange cocktail of emotions she felt for him, explored, and attempted to be understood.
The romance
For the months of training, day in and day out, the harsh conditions, the screaming, howling, and constant berating. The punishments without reason, and the beatings without warning, the boy still loved his mother with every fiber of his being. He was fully grown now, with the body of a twenty year old, experience far, far beyond his years, and a pale, chiseled form that smiled only for her. Any hint of affection would see him beaten, and punished, though regardless, there were times when he simply couldn't help himself, and even then, there were times where even she could not resist.
((warning, about to get graphic with high sexual content. You have been warned))
The bruises, cuts and scrapes from the day, all but healed, his pale, glistening flesh unmarred by the furious training he had undertaken. Though, it was the knots of muscle, rippling just below his skin, that ached to high heaven. His breath labored, he managed to stumble onto his bed, the dark, featureless room that was his own, lit only by the soft glow of a candle near the head of his bunk.
Rolling over arduously, with a painful grunt, and resting a powerful arm across his aching, heaving chest, he manged the strength, just barely, to brush a few locks of raven hair from his frigid azure eyes, before they shut for the night. His breathing slowing down, his body growing lax.
As she always did, her back pressed to the wall outside her door, her foot leaning casually, arms crossed beneath her breasts, she waited for him to enter a state of slumber, before crossing through the gateway, and closing the door behind her. Her pale grey eyes coursed over the entirety of his nude form, his skin still wet from a brief shower, washing the blood, dirt, and carbon from his body, before retiring to sleep.
Shaking her heard, tossing her pale locks of which her namesake was given, she slid her pants to the ground, and quietly removed her shirt. A mirror sheen of sweat glowed dimly in the illumination of the faint lamp, from her shapely legs, to the cleft of her womanhood, above to her abdomen, where no stretch marks from her pregnancy remained, and further still, to her ample breasts.
With a silent, heartfelt sigh, she settled in the space between the warm, soft, object of her affection, and the cold steel wall. Her soft hands, and deceptively delicate fingers sliding over his pale form, resting on his chest and stomach, feeling the powerful, ripping muscles beneath them, and the soft, reassuring beat of his heart within his breast.
Embracing him harder, as though afraid he might leave any minute, her released herself into her thoughts once more, sorting through emotions she had never felt for anyone, confused by the context of them. The love, and adoration, but also, the strange lust she felt as well. She could not deny the warmth and wetness that grew between her legs, every time she held herself against him, feeling frightened, and elated, by the surge of pleasant emotions powering through her.
To let herself feel with, let alone, about others, would spell her death under any other circumstances...but here...with him. She felt as though nothing wrong could happen. Even as she sparred with him, beating him to the ground, exploiting his every weakness, she felt lustly arousal at the physical contact.Heart rending sorrow for the pain in his eyes, and indescribable joy at his smile.
She loved him as a son, and as something more. He was no child, not anymore. Even though the time had been short, such a thing was so feeble in itself...his character had grown with every minute of every moment he spent with her, his mind flourishing, maturing, growing stronger.
As she knew they would, she felt the hot stinging tears flow from her eyes once more, tears of joy at the wondrous creature she had bore, that she held now, in her arms. In a word of destruction, sorrow, and pain, that she could feel safe, secure...she could feel wanted. She could feel...
Loved...and love in return.
Such a thing had been a mere concept, abstract in the least, to be exploited where it could, to be heard of, and to pity those who fell to it's power. But as she felt it blossom through her every time she looked at him, heard his voice, touched him, she knew she would rather die than lose such a thing again.
"Wolfe....why are you crying.."
Her eyes snapped open in surprise, the soft sobs and mewling noises of her exploration of her emotions had awoken him. She longed to tell him, to tell him everything...but she felt as though she should berate him....that would be the right thing to do...but then..
Lost in her thoughts, frozen by inaction, she did nothing to resist as he turned towords her, his pale lips curled in a smile, handsome azure eyes she could lose herself in, mesmerizing her. Her breath caught in her throat as his hand rose to her face, wiping away the tears. As his hand moved to leave her, she found her own clasped over it. She didn't care, she longed for his touch.
Cupping his warm, soft hand against her pale, angular features, her fingers gently caressing his own, it seemed as though she could lie there forever. Staring into those eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body...even as her own hand went to caress his features...sliding over the strong, powerful, and yet, soft, understanding face...she felt herself drawn.
As their eyes closed, their lips pressed against one another, she felt and explosion of sensations. The warmth of his body pressed against hers, the softness of his lips as she crushed hers desperately against them, the moistness of his tongue as she slipped her own around it. The longer they embraced, the more it grew, powerful, lustful urges she had never felt before arched her back, choked out small noises, moans and mewls of pleasure from her throat, every fiber of her being ached from him.
And of him, for her, his passion , from a mere flame, to a blazing inferno, he could feel himself becoming rigid, pressing urgently against her thigh, this only drew a husky, lust filled gasp from her, as she quickly slid her hand down between them, using every minute skill and talent she had learned over the years to give him pleasure.
In turn, he groaned with the sensations, unlike anything he had ever felt, his entire body ached for her, their moans, gasps, groans and soft sounds of passion driving each other onwards, with hardly any conscious thought. Soon, she was atop him, hand on his girth, guiding the tip to her warm, wet, aching lips. Pain and pleasure exploded within them, something breaking inside her, and her clamping down on him in turn.
Soon, they were both covered in a sheen of sweat once more, as they explored every fantasy, every lust, every passion they had developed, the seemingly unquenchable thirst for one another, only sated once they both lie, panting, and unable to move beside one another, holding each other in tearful embrace, their love and lust requited, as they both slipped into blissful dreams.
The aftermath
Though she never relented in her training, they encouraged each other with warm smiles, and brief bouts of affection. He was soon her equal, as the two of them fought for hours on end, with no clear victor, before retiring, arm in arm, to his room for even more rigorous sessions. The two become lovers and warriors unparalleled. The young man fighting beside Wolfe in missions that she acquired once more, his skills far beyond her expectations, her heart skipping a beat every time he flashed her a quick smile in the heat of battle, the two often sharing a quick kiss between dispatching foes, or a hearty embrace thereafter.
In short, their skills in battle was rivaled only by their passion. And they made no attempt to hide the fact. Wolfe in herself was a force of nature, the two of them, was like the coming of the apocalypse for any who had gained their ire. They leveled the playing field, bringing those in power, the dictators, to their knees, and then, their feet, heads rolling beside them. Letting the people establish governments of which could be ruled by the people, all of them. Not some select few in a mockery of democracy, with false leaders and corrupted councils, but a true government, where the guilty would be held accountable for their actions, and no manner of corruption left to flourish.
He truly had brought the salvation that people had fought for, died for, prayed for, and were eventually given.
Though all was not well.
The end
There was one that harbored a grudge above all, one who would dare even their unbreakable bond of love, in order to obtain his revenge. The leader of the organization Erlösung, a man known simply as "Reich".
After years of watching, waiting, plotting. He finally devised a plan.
Creating a bogus contract, hiring mercenaries of his own to fight them. It was a cold, winter eve. The sun was just beginning to set, the blood of their foes sinking into the snow, as they embraced, kissing tenderly, as she rested her hands on her shoulders, her head against his chest, while he leaned his head upon her own, stroking a hand through her hair softly, and closing his eyes.
At that exact moment, a quartet of snipers appeared, took their aim, and fired. Wolfe scantly had time to act, deflecting two rounds, pulling them from the way of the third, the fourth a mere glancing blow, the last shot, from a sniper unseen, fired directly at the heart of her student, her solider, her lover, her son.
With a cry of anguish, she twisted desperately, eyes flying wide, and flecks of blood flying from her pale, white lips. Tears streaming down her face as the bullet crushed her from within, tearing her apart inside. If there was ever a moment in her life she had seen him upset, angry, she could not remember. Until now.
With a roar that seemed to shake the foundations of the world, he hardly seemed to move as he tore the assassins apart, death incarnate, it was over in mere seconds, as he ran back to her, clutching her hand against his face, tears streaming down beside him in the snow, small gasps and sobs, the extent of his ability to restrain the total oblivion he felt. As she smiled up at him, gently feeling the curvature of his features one last time, she uttered the last words ever to pass the lips of the legendary mercenary and passed away.
From his station, miles away, Reich trembled in absolute terror, the words "what have I done?" echoing through his mind, as the howls of anguish and fury, the likes of which had never been known, tore through every barrier, construct, and defender it its path. When the man finally reached him, gazing into the frigid azure eyes of annihilation, a warm trickle down his thighs, paralyzed by fear, he knew, then and there, that his decision, was by far, the worst any man, had ever made.
The beginning
The frigid mercenary, emotionless, cold, carries out his duties without words, or even it seems, thought, in the current plane of existence he inhabits. The pain of remaining in the same dimension of the only thing he had ever known, too unbearable to consider. Though even now, a woman with white hair, and pale eyes stalks him, watches him, records and observes his every move. Unbeknown to him, as he carries on with his mission, devoid of anything, but the singular purpose to seek out conflict, to honor her last words in the only way he knew how. In the only way that didn't hurt. To continue his existence, seeking conflict, forever honing and lending his skills in combat to those who need them, Krieg Jaeger, Hunter of war. In honor of the last words of his loved one, he fights, the words echoing hollowly in his dreams, anything else, too painful to bear.
"Remember me"
OOC info
Krieg is incredibly fast, powerful, and intelligent. Though he is still only human. The power sets that I found best fit him, were dark melee and super reflexes. In terms of what the abilities and effects are Rped as, Super reflexes is pretty spot on. When his adrenaline flows, everything slows to a crawl, and your average human could hardly be perceived to be moving, from his point of view...
..Though he's still not fast enough to dodge bullets and other kinds of weapons, or certain strikes. What he does instead is calculate trajectories on the fly based on where the attacker is aiming, their motions, his motions, and their relativity, and makes minute adjustments to avoid attacks.
Alternatively, DM is a little harder to justify. I see it as his attacks being incredibly swift, and powerful, but moreso, accurate. He can specifically target nerve clusters or critical areas on non-organic threats to cause nerual or sensory damage. Essentially, he causes someone to partially black out if he hits them correctly, thus, making it harder for them to hit anything, much less him.
His siphon life and soul drain are RPed as him simply injecting himself with combat hypo's while attacking at the same time. A cold economy of movement, in which nothing is spared or wasted, striking out while administering first aid in the same, fluid, deadly efficient action.
He is RPed as having a scythe on his back, though normally it is folded into three pieces, and resting in the small of his back.
Through a molecule thin edge, and intensely powerful and fast minuscule vibrations, the weapon more than capable of cutting through virtually any substance known to man with relative ease.( The scythe replaces his ghost slaying axe, and for the power "midnight grasp" he hurls his scythe at his victim, and assuming it strikes, it seriously damages their sensory system [They nearly black out from the pain and damage caused] and pins them to the ground.)
Trivia!
Krieg and his counterpart, Wolfe will be some of the main characters in a book that I intend to write. Still working on it atm, but I'll let the community know when it's done for those who are interested, before I publish it
![[1]](http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v293/Sgt.Steel/screenshot_2008-07-04-12-09-33-1.jpg){kind=link}
