Factions, Families, Clans, and Empires
A group of battle-hardened veterans. These legendary champions came from all walks of life before banding together in the defense of Terra.
Jeremiah Snow is a young, sprightly man, who seems pretty average appearance, his build typical of a twenty year old with significant gym-time, making him both athletic and dexterous. His sandy hair is cropped short, clinging to his domed scalp. A rigorous regimen of kick-boxing and mixed marshal arts has taken its toll on his features, leaving him with a crooked nose and a few scars from well-aimed blows across his face. His deep-set blue eyes glare along with his near-permanent scowl, a sign, along with his bulging muscles that he is not someone to mess with. Tattooed on his neck is a cross with a burning skeleton crucified upon it. Running down his arms are intertwined Chinese dragons, with their flaming breath stretching from his wrists to his fingertips.
Snow dresses simply, in a pair of close fitting denim jeans, tucked into a pair of sturdy combat-boots. His muscled top-half is covered by a black button down shirt and a red-leather biker jacket, reinforced with extra padding on the elbows and under-arm. Around his neck hang a myriad of lucky charms, mostly on frayed leather cord or slim silver chains. The most prominent is a rosary, built from a silver chain and black jet for the beads.
Jeremiah is a little less than diplomatic, preferring to resolve a confrontation with his fists and unusual abilities rather than his mouth. His deep and all consuming faith gives him a slightly misguided sense of right and wrong, his adherence to the Catholic ideology making him a little less than tolerant of certain people, but you could say his heart is in the right place. His tenacity and will to keep fighting under any conditions make him a dangerous opponent, but his headstrong nature can make him easy to predict.
Jeremiah carries a monogrammed Zippo lighter, mainly as a lucky charm, and it has potential use for misdirecting an opponent to the source of his power.
For his primary weapon, Snow carries a broad-bladed longsword, designed to match his height and weight perfectly. The hilt is cast from the same steel as the blade, and forms a simple T-bar. The handgrip is covered by moulded red leather and designed to fit Snow's hand. The blade is unadorned and carries a deep fuller, to keep the weight and balance down. To counter the heavy weight of the blade, a large dragon-head caps the hand-grip, its roaring visage forming the pommel of the sword. The sword is hooked onto a three-point black-leather harness which is secured over his back, hanging diagonally from his right shoulder to left hip.
Tucked into the pockets of his leather jacket, Jeremiah carries a pair of spiked knuckles cast from silver, for situations where the fighting gets so close that his sword becomes next to useless. Combined with his pretty decent street-fighting abilities, they are as deadly as his sword. The spike set atop the body of the knuckles are over an inch long and razor sharp.
Jeremiah has an affinity with fire. The major focus of his ability is to be able to create and manipulate fire, up to a distance of fifteen feet around him. Any part of his body can exude incredibly hot flames which can be projected out to the fifteen feet. At touch distances, he can focus his powers to create flames capable of burning through most materials found on Terra. Snow isn't sure where this ability comes from, but it is most definitely magical in nature.
A side-effect of his fire manipulation skills is telekinetic abilities, allowing him to move objects out to a range of fifteen feet. This enhances his combat skills, as he can turn aside incoming strikes, then retaliate with his own devastating blow.
Jeremiah Snow pushed open the door, idly flicking his lighter back and forth as he paced across the floor, shouldering aside patrons. He settled on a stool, ordering a large vodka. Snow settled back and cast his eyes over the bar, the hand that wasn't playing with his lighter carressing the bright silver crucifix around his neck.
"The lord god save all these souls." He muttered to himself, replacing the lighter in his pocket and taking a sip from the vodka. Grimacing at the taste he ran a hand over his scalp, careful not to dislodge the sword between his shoulder-blades.
Jeremiah Snow continued to sip from the vodka, flicking his blue eyes around the dive. Honestly, this was worse than some of the scabbier clubs in the east end. It looked like a bomb-shelter for god's sake. His eyes settled on the angel and cat-person, who seemed to be going through a lovey-dovey phase. A potential target for some sword-practice perhaps.
Chuckling internally, Snow slipped to his feet, flexing the muscles in his back and shoulders, proecting an experimental jet of flame from his fingertips, deftly manipulating it into a cross shape, which he allowed to hang for a few seconds. With a flick of his wrist, Snow drew the longsword from his back, twirling it in a deft figure of eight, casually boosting the speed with a burst of telekinis
Jeremiah Snow did not react as a traditional human would towards an incoming projectile. His combat honed reflexes spun his attention towards the projectile, casually nudging it a fraction of course, so it would slash past his gut, barely even touching the fabric of his jacket. As it sped past, disintegrating against the coutner behind him, he grinned.
"You'll have to do better than that if you want to take me down!" He roard, the animosity building within his wiry frame. In stead of retaliating, he stayed perfectly still, his sword-point aimed down at the floor, the other hand playing with the rosary about his neck.
Jeremiah Snow shivered due to the cold, but this was only tempory. With a flash of power blazing through his body, he blasted a tongue of fire from every point of his body, immolating his form in a raging sea of fire. The ice projected by Monica would be effectivly removed, the massive heat of the fire almost instantly melting the ice.
Snow took three steps forward, casually tossing aside a table with his mind. He shifted his weight to his back foot, leaning forward in a classic fencing stance, flashing his sword round in an arc, to defend his guard. He sent a tongue of fire down the blade, projecting a spark in Monica's direction. "En guarde" He called, ever the gentleman.
Jeremiah Snow would stay passive and still. As she approached, Snow took a single step back and blasted a three foot tongue of flame in the area the dagger was aimed at. The furnace-like heat of the flames would melt his attacker' weapon, and more than likely severly burn her hand.
As the ice in her hand turned to vapour, Snow would dart forward, slamming his fist towards her sternum, the spiked knuckles on his hand glittering in the fire-light. "You realize, that you are trying to fight fire with ice." Snow grinned again. "Its like trying to cut down a tree with a table knife."