Niklaus the Lycan

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Niklaus the Lycan

Post by Niklaus on Sat Jan 24, 2015 11:29 pm


Appearance




Castigo was, and Niklaus is, a man of average height, hair length, and weight for what he appears to be. An average caucasian male blessed by whatever deity looks upon him with a fair complexion despite his role forcing him to constantly bathe in the Brazilian sun's rays. Due to a major lack of pigments his skin seems to remain pale even under the harshest conditions, forcing most attention to the main area of color on his face, meaning that his blue eyes take center stage in most situations. Being that he isn't incredibly tall the amount of muscle mass that he has, while not being an overbearing deal, is compacted visually to make him appear to be bigger than most men of his height and weight are expected to be. Hard work in the learning of both tactical and other useful mental and physically based arts shaped the muscles of the young male's arms to become exceptionally defined. The acquired trait is one that is not at all offset by the broadness of his shoulders. The length of his limbs though, do work well  for his weapons of choice, the BAR and Machete above most other things. The manuverability that is required in both of his well versed paths of life coupled with the amount of general hard work that it takes cut the possibility of being troubled down with a large amount of fat. While his stomach is taunt and defined his chest displays a muscular structure that is large, but not quite hulking enough to be visible through multiple layers of clothing. Cass facial features are usually bare a stoic softness to them that shows a constantly serious demeanor while not being offsetting enough for another human to completely avoid him. The truth of the matter was his eyes, piercing and seemingly aged with a wisdom of lessons learned hard, shows his amount of business savy and willingness to make a deal happen quickly. His torso bares multiple scars through the grueling training his body was tasked with in service to his country before his turning. Since such he prefers to not show most of his scars by wearing black digital camouflage, standard size twelve black combat boots, and a black turtleneck with long sleeves usually rolled to the elbows. Despite his supernatural durability, he also wears a black kevlar vest at all times. On his belt , a spot on the right hip rests with the sheathe of his Machete and an ammo pouch in the direct center of the back of the belt. This held three extra magazines worth of ammunition for the BAR that he usually carried on his back via chest strap. When at ease, it usually stays two military actions from ready.


Equipment


BAR: Also known as the Browning Automatic Rifle or the M1918 is a classic LMG in use since 1917. This BAR takes  .30-06 Springfield or .303 British rounds and fires them with a gas operated rising bolt lock at rate of roughly 550 rounds per minute. The BAR uses a 20 round detachable box magazine.

Machete: A large carob-steel knife similar in make to a cleaver that is 45 centimeters (17.7 inches) in blade length with a 21 centimeter (nearly 8 inch) grip.

Practicalities: For basic communication and personal needs Niklaus carries a golden jailbroken IPhone 5S. Along with a black camo bookbag his belt contains an ammo pouch which contains four full magazines fit for his BAR. Seventy five feet of paracord rolled into a ball the size of a baseball resides within the bookbag along with a few bottles of smart water, a steel cross, and his wallet. Not being one to carry cash, the wallet contains two different credit cards, one company and one personal, Identification equivalent to that of Russian and Brazilian special forces, and an emergency thousand american tucked behind the fabricated social security card. In the inner most pouch resides a King James bible and the various passports he uses. For personal hygenic needs there is a sharpened straight razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, and shaving cream stowed away in the sound pouch.

Personality


A singular word to describe the entirety of Niklaus' personality and reasoning behind it; Irony. Somehow, a man who spent his entire life young life priming to become something above the human average, Niklaus, before being turned, was a very kind and caring man. While a bit of a procrastinator, he always held an extremely strong sense of duty which only grew after his turning. Almost to a point of blind self righteousness towards certain things he felt dear. This was much in contrast to the fact that the change took away the outward kindness and warmth and replaced it completely with cynicism and sarcasm. Nik proves usually to be quick witted and quick to verbally retort, but on the inner layer, past the sarcastic remarks and attempts to befuddle, was a calm, collected, and concise individual. While not being directly confrontational, Niklaus loves conflict. Not necessarily the conflict it's self ,but the principal that battle of any form was the purest way for two people to connect and assert themselves. His opinion is very stern on actual combat though. In all but special situations Nik is a firm believer of handling it as quickly as possible with the least amount of sustainable damage with himself. It's possible that this is attributed to his natural, human, sense of self preservation accompanied with his militant training as easily as it could be his more feral instincts driving him to battle. Weaponlessness doesn't strike him as a problem being that Nik prefers hand to hand combat over anything else. That being said, he's very against not carrying his firearm. Not for protection or the matter that it could do more damage than he could, but that he despises finding himself at disadvantages in situation where preparedness could have evened the playing field or opened more opportunities in battle. Despite not being extremely overly intelligent Niklaus is very well versed in the human psyche through his learnings in his human years. Initially after his changing this caused him to go through a phase of deep self assessment and finds it now to be nothing out of the normal to compartmentalize and rationalize nearly anything, including death. Even without much control of his Lycan ability or emotional changes his mind stayed sharp enough, and even further sharpened, to a point of self assurance that doubts he had in his action, choices, or beliefs were stricken simply because of boosts to specific personality traits and reductions of others. In this instance, it was the fact that it was purely in his human nature to believe in a cause and follow through with said beliefs wholeheartedly and still see rationally through his own jaded opinion.


Abilities


Cubs:Werewolves who have just started up in life. They are either unable to transform into humans or into werewolves. This condition can be satiated through devouring a few meals. They are highly sensitive to the full moon and act accordingly. 
Regenerative Potential: Level 2 (10 posts for major damage)
Physical Abilities: Level 2 (Medium supernatural strength, agility, stamina and reflexes)
Durability: Level 1 (minor supernatural durability), great weakness to silver and blessed weaponry (any contact with silver is lethal)
Additional Abilities: Ability to transform into a sentient, man-sized wolf during full moons (this transformation is automatic), large weakness to wolfsbane (burning sensation)

Muay Thai Training: Through several years, nearly a decade, of training in Muay Thai by the United States military Niklaus has proven time and time again, through ample amounts of field experience, to be a practiced veteran despite never being officially ranked.


Biography


Something inside of Castigo told him that these breathes, these moments, were his last and that brought some measure of ease to a tortured soul. In a last flash of his own life that lasted no longer than a hair thin moment, he revisited every major instance in his life. The day his parents sent him to military school and the emotional trauma that came with realizing, despite his best efforts to fool himself, that his parents shipped him off because they didn't care. It wasn't in the young man's nature to dwell, but this proved to be the first of what would become several psychological issues to plague the fifteen year old.

Military school was originally viewed as a place of imprisonment by Castigo, but immediately upon his arrival he was welcomed warmly. The men that ran NYMA were seasoned veterans that viewed the children as potential weapons and as such treated them with care in the early stages after joining. The first few months were grueling physical training meant to break the boys mentally. As their bodies grew and their minds weakened they'd grow closer to one another through mutual understanding and even eventually start to see things on a mutual accord and act as soldiers. They were picking things up easier and quicker to follow order without incentive. It was all becoming instinctive. They were becoming a unit and unbeknownst to them, they were following down the track set before them without fail.

The task of the United States Military academy program since the year 2000 has been solely to help nurture and develop as many of the nation's youth to the pinnacle of human physicality as possible. This would allow the true stars and leaders to shine especially well, given that comparatively the standard for “average” was raising tremendously for the goal at hand. Those that were considered advanced amongst the first class, or students that began the program in the first three years, were sent to Brazil upon their seventeenth birthday to begin the second phase of training. This was considered the fine tuning where they were shaped and worked to form specific skills. Some hackers, some covert specialists, and some were even unrivaled snipers. Given that they had been watched so closely during the years at their respective academies each student was trained in general CQC and at least one martial art that suited them best.

In Castigo's case, it was Muay Thai, which saved him in the daunting situation of his next third flash. It wasn't because he was the best of fighters, but the physical growth, that came with slightly heightened reflexes as any elongated training would, saved Castigo where another member of his squad wasn't as lucky. It was routine for the group that was stationed here to do patrols of the villages, as far as they were from one another, and keep the peace for whatever reason. All fifty of the people Castigo knew to be there, himself included were issued full body armour, a silver cross or religious icon, a silver Ka-Bar, a sidearm of choice, a fully automatic SCAR-H with two standard clips filled with thirty ballistic tip rounds accompanied with a third clip filled with silver tipped rounds. This odd arsenal for “simple” patrols agitated a sense in the back of Cass' mind, but he tried to think nothing of it.

Their fifth night on patrol something happened that was hard for Castigo to completely grasp. None of the people there, save the three highest ranking officers, knew anything of the supernatural threat that lurked throught Brazil. There was training to handle “extremist” enemies, but in the face of the truly unreal for the first time Castigo responded immediately to the sound of rustling in the woods a few meters himself and the three other lower ranking men. His rifle was readied at the direction of the threat and yet, there was nothing. Complete silence for seconds. Seconds, that eventually became moments, and moments that grew into laughter from the other men. They all could normally share a laugh, but this one time the sensation of eyes being on them wouldn't leave and before he could blink something was on two of his subordinates.

They were humanoid in size and ripping away at the armor with what looked like claws. Before either one of the two being attacked were wounded, Castigo opened fire on the two assailants. They proved fast enough to only be grazed a couple of times separately with extra human speed and the cover of the rainforest. That didn't deter Cass from laying down suppressing fire while he awaited the three lesser men to regain their composure. A last shell casing hitting the ground signaled the end of the clip. Castigo dropped his mag and reached to for another before being tackled by one of the two that had at the others. The second flanked and overtook the original two soldiers that were attacked, ending their lives by ripping at both of their throats bare handed. The mortified third soldier was so shocked by the act that instead of showing a hint of valor, he used his side arm to take his own life before he could be murdered as his companions surely would be.

Castigo's life should have ended that day, but his instinct sent him towards the closest weapon he could grab the instant he could register that he was being tackled and with a slight of luck, and good placement, he was able to draw his Ka-Bar. Due to the nature of the tackle though, the blade found it's way into the chest of the being causing it to open it's mouth as it died, clearly showing Castigo it's fangs before the odd smelling blood poured out and onto his vest and shirt. Adrenaline overrode bewilderment and he was to his feet, side arm drawn and emptying his clip into the torso of the creature mauling his men. Anger took hold of the usually collected man and in that anger her sprinted towards the wounded enemy, loaded a fresh clip, and proceeded to unload it into it's head leaving slightly less than a head and slightly more than a neck nub in the wake of the .50 cal hand gun.

It was hard gathering himself in the minutes that followed. He had so many questions and not a clue as to what possibly could explain what he'd seen and been a part of. These same questions were, of course, pitted to the highest ranking officer on base who seemed to only care about the explicit details of the encounter. The deaths weren't shocking or pressing in any form to the man and telling him the tale did nothing but leave Cass with more questions and less orders. As diligent as he was in the pursuit of justice, Castigo was equally as passionate about pursuing his own morality. The fact that he was left sitting with nothing felt like a personal spit in the face from his betters and yet for some reason, stripped of everything but his Ka-Bar, he deserted the base in search of answers in the forests.

The sun fell lower, the full moon rose, and night had fallen the rainforests that the now AWOL solider treked through. There was something here that wasn't natural and he had to know what. Every step lacked sense. Every moment made all of his mundane human instinct scream to run in the opposite direction and not stop. As time passed, sweat began to stain the blood soaked shirt that he still wore from the encounter with the strange creatures that drew him back to his area and before long he could smell himself even. Perseverance proved true though, along with wit and giving the commander the wrong location, as Castigo came back across the site of the incident.

His first instinct was to collect the tags of the fallen men. Whether he was going against orders or not, his beliefs laid firm in the fact that all of their families deserved to have at least that measure of peace and monument to what was lost. Before he could even get the first one off, there was a sounds in the distance, something like a light panting that was coming closer. Whatever it was panting was large and the feral snarling that began as it drew closer caused Castigo to draw his knife into shaking hand to attempt to be prepared for an unseen opponent.

It was over in the same flash that forced the recollection of events from Castigo. The large wolf had bitten into his torso and taken off realizing that his scent didn't match that of the prey he was looking for. Just like that his fate was sealed with lack of any answers. There was more than darkness though, a warmth. A hum coming from within his core that began to cause the genetic change. For whatever reason the creature that bit Cass took off without finishing him and nature decided to alter him. The warmth began to consume the man lying amongst the foliage and increased. Every cell inside of him grew hotter until the intensity was almost unbearable. Slowly every bone in his body snapped and broke in one direction or another as he mutated. Castigo was losing all sense of pain though, as if he were drifting into a slumber.

Upon waking he found himself tied to a wall in a cold, damp, smelly room that wasn't fit to house rot. Before him was his captor and torture that spent the better part of what Castigo could only guess was a couple of days torturing him form information about what he was and how he came to brazil. For some reason though, he was healing exceptionally fast from all of the injuries. There was pain, but not to the extent that he expected from the torture and amidst all of it he began noticing differences in himself. His body, his mind, his senses. Reasonably, he was something completely new that wasn't the same Castigo. Whatever he was could tell the difference in the two and while he respected what he was, he had to respect that he was new. The new him gave his captor all of the information he could, not in fear, but in hope that reason could be met as it was.

Alexandre Ramirez introduced himself to the new werewolf pup and offered a chance. A chance to join the Red Stahl Freikorps and learn more about what he was and how to use his newfound abilities. Given his abrupt exit with his own country's government, the fact that he was being offered a new identity, training, and information by himself, topped with the fact that it was supposedly a place to embrace whatever this new world of his was and where he could thrive and learn in it. It was a drastic change but it appealed greatly to the knowledge seeker in the man that would come to be known as Niklaus. The next three years were spent in training and preparation. Coming to become one of the RSF wasn't hard for Castigo and as time assed and he was developed into a proper field agent he became increasingly excited as he knew he'd be assigned his first mission in assistance to Alexandre.  


Last edited by Niklaus on Sun Jan 25, 2015 12:23 am; edited 2 times in total

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Re: Niklaus the Lycan

Post by Ada Koch on Sat Jan 24, 2015 11:32 pm

Is this finished? I don't see a WIP.

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Re: Niklaus the Lycan

Post by John Smith on Sun Jan 25, 2015 2:04 am

Niklaus wrote:Name: Castigo-Niklaus

Nicknames: Nik

Age: 26

Gender: Male

Race: Lycan

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Organization: Red Stahl Freikorps

Rank: Junior Troubleshooter

So is his surname Niklaus? What's the hyphen about?

Appearance wrote:Castigo was, and Niklaus is, a man of average height, hair length, and weight for what he appears to be. An average caucasian male blessed by whatever deity looks upon him with a fair complexion despite his role forcing him to constantly bathe in the Brazilian sun's rays. Due to a major lack of pigments his skin seems to remain pale even under the harshest conditions, forcing most attention to the main area of color on his face, meaning that his blue eyes take center stage in most situations. Being that he isn't incredibly tall the amount of muscle mass that he has, while not being an overbearing deal, is compacted visually to make him appear to be bigger than most men of his height and weight are expected to be. Hard work in the learning of both tactical and other useful mental and physically based arts shaped the muscles of the young male's arms to become exceptionally defined. The acquired trait is one that is not at all offset by the broadness of his shoulders. The length of his limbs though, do work well  for his weapons of choice, the BAR and Machete above most other things. The manuverability that is required in both of his well versed paths of life coupled with the amount of general hard work that it takes cut the possibility of being troubled down with a large amount of fat. While his stomach is taunt and defined his chest displays a muscular structure that is large, but not quite hulking enough to be visible through multiple layers of clothing. Cass facial features are usually bare a stoic softness to them that shows a constantly serious demeanor while not being offsetting enough for another human to completely avoid him. The truth of the matter was his eyes, piercing and seemingly aged with a wisdom of lessons learned hard, shows his amount of business savy and willingness to make a deal happen quickly. His torso bares multiple scars through the grueling training his body was tasked with in service to his country before his turning. Since such he prefers to not show most of his scars by wearing black digital camouflage, standard size twelve black combat boots, and a black turtleneck with long sleeves usually rolled to the elbows. Despite his supernatural durability, he also wears a black kevlar vest at all times. On his belt , a spot on the right hip rests with the sheathe of his Machete and an ammo pouch in the direct center of the back of the belt. This held three extra magazines worth of ammunition for the BAR that he usually carried on his back via chest strap. When at ease, it usually stays two military actions from ready.

Since I don't know what he appears to be, I can't guess that height, weight, or hair length. Tell me.

How long are those limbs? You start, but never stop. You're going off the rails on this crazy train.



What kind of scars are those?

Equipment wrote:BAR: Also known as the Browning Automatic Rifle or the M1918 is a classic LMG in use since 1917. This BAR takes  .30-06 Springfield or .303 British rounds and fires them with a gas operated rising bolt lock at rate of roughly 550 rounds per minute. The BAR uses a 20 round detachable box magazine.

Seems standard, but what do I know? Nothing, actually.

Swords wrote:Machete: A large carob-steel knife similar in make to a cleaver that is 45 centimeters (17.7 inches) in blade length with a 21 centimeter (nearly 8 inch) grip.

No extra description on this bad boy?

Nom it wrote:Practicalities: For basic communication and personal needs Niklaus carries a golden  jailbroken IPhone 5S. Along with a black camo bookbag his belt contains an ammo pouch which contains four full magazines fit for his BAR. Seventy five feet of paracord rolled into a ball the size of a baseball resides within the bookbag along with a few bottles of smart water, a steel cross, and his wallet. Not being one to carry cash, the wallet contains two different credit cards, one company and one personal, Identification equivalent to that of Russian and Brazilian special forces, and an emergency thousand american tucked behind the fabricated social security card. In the inner most pouch resides a King James bible and the various passports he uses. For personal hygenic needs there is a sharpened straight razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, and shaving cream stowed away in the sound pouch.

Okay, then.

Personality wrote:A singular word to describe the entirety of Niklaus' personality and reasoning behind it; Irony. Somehow, a man who spent his entire life young life priming to become something above the human average, Niklaus, before being turned, was a very kind and caring man. While a bit of a procrastinator, he always held an extremely strong sense of duty which only grew after his turning. Almost to a point of blind self righteousness towards certain things he felt dear. This was much in contrast to the fact that the change took away the outward kindness and warmth and replaced it completely with cynicism and sarcasm. Nik proves usually to be quick witted and quick to verbally retort, but on the inner layer, past the sarcastic remarks and attempts to befuddle, was a calm, collected, and concise individual. While not being directly confrontational, Niklaus loves conflict. Not necessarily the conflict it's self ,but the principal that battle of any form was the purest way for two people to connect and assert themselves. His opinion is very stern on actual combat though. In all but special situations Nik is a firm believer of handling it as quickly as possible with the least amount of sustainable damage with himself. It's possible that this is attributed to his natural, human, sense of self preservation accompanied with his militant training as easily as it could be his more feral instincts driving him to battle. Weaponlessness doesn't strike him as a problem being that Nik prefers hand to hand combat over anything else. That being said, he's very against not carrying his firearm. Not for protection or the matter that it could do more damage than he could, but that he despises finding himself at disadvantages in situation where preparedness could have evened the playing field or opened more opportunities in battle. Despite not being extremely overly intelligent Niklaus is very well versed in the human psyche through his learnings in his human years. Initially after his changing this caused him to go through a phase of deep self assessment and finds it now to be nothing out of the normal to compartmentalize and rationalize nearly anything, including death. Even without much control of his Lycan ability or emotional changes his mind stayed sharp enough, and even further sharpened, to a point of self assurance that doubts he had in his action, choices, or beliefs were stricken simply because of boosts to specific personality traits and reductions of others. In this instance, it was the fact that it was purely in his human nature to believe in a cause and follow through with said beliefs wholeheartedly and still see rationally through his own jaded opinion.

I'd like to see more about how he feels on being a wolf. Since he has no control at this point, it'd probably be worth mentioning.

Abilities wrote:Cubs:Werewolves who have just started up in life. They are either unable to transform into humans or into werewolves. This condition can be satiated through devouring a few meals. They are highly sensitive to the full moon and act accordingly. 
Regenerative Potential: Level 2 (10 posts for major damage)
Physical Abilities: Level 2 (Medium supernatural strength, agility, stamina and reflexes)
Durability: Level 1 (minor supernatural durability), great weakness to silver and blessed weaponry (any contact with silver is lethal)
Additional Abilities: Ability to transform into a sentient, man-sized wolf during full moons (this transformation is automatic), large weakness to wolfsbane (burning sensation)

Muay Thai Training: Through several years, nearly a decade, of training in Muay Thai by the United States military Niklaus has proven time and time again, through ample amounts of field experience, to be a practiced veteran despite never being officially ranked.

He can't do anything but fight? Those are all his skills? I'd figure he'd at least want to know Russian working for a company based in Russia.

Biography wrote:Something inside of Castigo told him that these breathes, these moments, were his last and that brought some measure of ease to a tortured soul. In a last flash of his own life that lasted no longer than a hair thin moment, he revisited every major instance in his life. The day his parents sent him to military school and the emotional trauma that came with realizing, despite his best efforts to fool himself, that his parents shipped him off because they didn't care. It wasn't in the young man's nature to dwell, but this proved to be the first of what would become several psychological issues to plague the fifteen year old.

Holy balls, slow the fuck down, bro. Give me some history before this, like childhood and shit. Just throwing me right in and I don't appreciate it. It's like the first episode of Naruto Shippuden.

Breather wrote:Military school was originally viewed as a place of imprisonment by Castigo, but immediately upon his arrival he was welcomed warmly. The men that ran NYMA were seasoned veterans that viewed the children as potential weapons and as such treated them with care in the early stages after joining. The first few months were grueling physical training meant to break the boys mentally. As their bodies grew and their minds weakened they'd grow closer to one another through mutual understanding and even eventually start to see things on a mutual accord and act as soldiers. They were picking things up easier and quicker to follow order without incentive. It was all becoming instinctive. They were becoming a unit and unbeknownst to them, they were following down the track set before them without fail.

The task of the United States Military academy program since the year 2000 has been solely to help nurture and develop as many of the nation's youth to the pinnacle of human physicality as possible. This would allow the true stars and leaders to shine especially well, given that comparatively the standard for “average” was raising tremendously for the goal at hand. Those that were considered advanced amongst the first class, or students that began the program in the first three years, were sent to Brazil upon their seventeenth birthday to begin the second phase of training. This was considered the fine tuning where they were shaped and worked to form specific skills. Some hackers, some covert specialists, and some were even unrivaled snipers. Given that they had been watched so closely during the years at their respective academies each student was trained in general CQC and at least one martial art that suited them best.

Is this actually what military school does? Can someone confirm?

Zuh? wrote:In Castigo's case, it was Muay Thai, which saved him in the daunting situation of his next third flash. It wasn't because he was the best of fighters, but the physical growth, that came with slightly heightened reflexes as any elongated training would, saved Castigo where another member of his squad wasn't as lucky. It was routine for the group that was stationed here to do patrols of the villages, as far as they were from one another, and keep the peace for whatever reason. All fifty of the people Castigo knew to be there, himself included were issued full body armour, a silver cross or religious icon, a silver Ka-Bar, a sidearm of choice, a fully automatic SCAR-H with two standard clips filled with thirty ballistic tip rounds accompanied with a third clip filled with silver tipped rounds. This odd arsenal for “simple” patrols agitated a sense in the back of Cass' mind, but he tried to think nothing of it.

Like, I don't think military school does this. And even if they do, sure as hell aren't letting a bunch of noobs go up against werewolves. They have V.W.A.T. for a reason.

Narm wrote:Their fifth night on patrol something happened that was hard for Castigo to completely grasp. None of the people there, save the three highest ranking officers, knew anything of the supernatural threat that lurked throught Brazil. There was training to handle “extremist” enemies, but in the face of the truly unreal for the first time Castigo responded immediately to the sound of rustling in the woods a few meters himself and the three other lower ranking men. His rifle was readied at the direction of the threat and yet, there was nothing. Complete silence for seconds. Seconds, that eventually became moments, and moments that grew into laughter from the other men. They all could normally share a laugh, but this one time the sensation of eyes being on them wouldn't leave and before he could blink something was on two of his subordinates.

They were humanoid in size and ripping away at the armor with what looked like claws. Before either one of the two being attacked were wounded, Castigo opened fire on the two assailants. They proved fast enough to only be grazed a couple of times separately with extra human speed and the cover of the rainforest. That didn't deter Cass from laying down suppressing fire while he awaited the three lesser men to regain their composure. A last shell casing hitting the ground signaled the end of the clip. Castigo dropped his mag and reached to for another before being tackled by one of the two that had at the others. The second flanked and overtook the original two soldiers that were attacked, ending their lives by ripping at both of their throats bare handed. The mortified third soldier was so shocked by the act that instead of showing a hint of valor, he used his side arm to take his own life before he could be murdered as his companions surely would be.

Magazines aren't clips, you know.

Derp wrote:Castigo's life should have ended that day, but his instinct sent him towards the closest weapon he could grab the instant he could register that he was being tackled and with a slight of luck, and good placement, he was able to draw his Ka-Bar. Due to the nature of the tackle though, the blade found it's way into the chest of the being causing it to open it's mouth as it died, clearly showing Castigo it's fangs before the odd smelling blood poured out and onto his vest and shirt. Adrenaline overrode bewilderment and he was to his feet, side arm drawn and emptying his clip into the torso of the creature mauling his men. Anger took hold of the usually collected man and in that anger her sprinted towards the wounded enemy, loaded a fresh clip, and proceeded to unload it into it's head leaving slightly less than a head and slightly more than a neck nub in the wake of the .50 cal hand gun.

You know that a silver knife would probably just break, right? So it's very unlikely they'd give you one, let alone mass produce them for everyone. That's bad planning.

I don't buy this one jackass who's not even a real soldier killing a bunch of werewolves with a pistol and a knife. Especially after being pounced, after which he should be getting eaten. And especially since werewolves dodge bullets.

Gerp wrote:It was hard gathering himself in the minutes that followed. He had so many questions and not a clue as to what possibly could explain what he'd seen and been a part of. These same questions were, of course, pitted to the highest ranking officer on base who seemed to only care about the explicit details of the encounter. The deaths weren't shocking or pressing in any form to the man and telling him the tale did nothing but leave Cass with more questions and less orders. As diligent as he was in the pursuit of justice, Castigo was equally as passionate about pursuing his own morality. The fact that he was left sitting with nothing felt like a personal spit in the face from his betters and yet for some reason, stripped of everything but his Ka-Bar, he deserted the base in search of answers in the forests.

The sun fell lower, the full moon rose, and night had fallen the rainforests that the now AWOL solider treked through. There was something here that wasn't natural and he had to know what. Every step lacked sense. Every moment made all of his mundane human instinct scream to run in the opposite direction and not stop. As time passed, sweat began to stain the blood soaked shirt that he still wore from the encounter with the strange creatures that drew him back to his area and before long he could smell himself even. Perseverance proved true though, along with wit and giving the commander the wrong location, as Castigo came back across the site of the incident.

How long has this been? Did a bunch of werewolves actually attack during the day? And does this confirm that you not only killed a pair of werewolves, but ones above cub status, too?

Nein wrote:His first instinct was to collect the tags of the fallen men. Whether he was going against orders or not, his beliefs laid firm in the fact that all of their families deserved to have at least that measure of peace and monument to what was lost. Before he could even get the first one off, there was a sounds in the distance, something like a light panting that was coming closer. Whatever it was panting was large and the feral snarling that began as it drew closer caused Castigo to draw his knife into shaking hand to attempt to be prepared for an unseen opponent.

It was over in the same flash that forced the recollection of events from Castigo. The large wolf had bitten into his torso and taken off realizing that his scent didn't match that of the prey he was looking for. Just like that his fate was sealed with lack of any answers. There was more than darkness though, a warmth. A hum coming from within his core that began to cause the genetic change. For whatever reason the creature that bit Cass took off without finishing him and nature decided to alter him. The warmth began to consume the man lying amongst the foliage and increased. Every cell inside of him grew hotter until the intensity was almost unbearable. Slowly every bone in his body snapped and broke in one direction or another as he mutated. Castigo was losing all sense of pain though, as if he were drifting into a slumber.

Yeah, why did it just leave him? What's the point of that?

What? wrote:Upon waking he found himself tied to a wall in a cold, damp, smelly room that wasn't fit to house rot. Before him was his captor and torture that spent the better part of what Castigo could only guess was a couple of days torturing him form information about what he was and how he came to brazil. For some reason though, he was healing exceptionally fast from all of the injuries. There was pain, but not to the extent that he expected from the torture and amidst all of it he began noticing differences in himself. His body, his mind, his senses. Reasonably, he was something completely new that wasn't the same Castigo. Whatever he was could tell the difference in the two and while he respected what he was, he had to respect that he was new. The new him gave his captor all of the information he could, not in fear, but in hope that reason could be met as it was.

Alexandre Ramirez introduced himself to the new werewolf pup and offered a chance. A chance to join the Red Stahl Freikorps and learn more about what he was and how to use his newfound abilities. Given his abrupt exit with his own country's government, the fact that he was being offered a new identity, training, and information by himself, topped with the fact that it was supposedly a place to embrace whatever this new world of his was and where he could thrive and learn in it. It was a drastic change but it appealed greatly to the knowledge seeker in the man that would come to be known as Niklaus. The next three years were spent in training and preparation. Coming to become one of the RSF wasn't hard for Castigo and as time assed and he was developed into a proper field agent he became increasingly excited as he knew he'd be assigned his first mission in assistance to Alexandre.

So this guy tortures you and stuff, but then offers you a job and you're all, "Cool, let's be bestest friends!"?


Things were going great until we got to the biography. Then we abruptly slammed into the wall. Major revisions need to take place, because pretty much none of this makes logical sense. It seems like you had a goal (be wolfenstein and join the people) but had no idea how to get there, and it all kind of just fell over.

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Re: Niklaus the Lycan

Post by Niklaus on Sun Jan 25, 2015 5:10 am

Alright, working on the revisions. I shall bump when done.

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Re: Niklaus the Lycan

Post by John Smith on Thu Feb 12, 2015 4:32 pm

Yarg?

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Re: Niklaus the Lycan

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