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Roderic Montana

Relentless.

0 · 217 views · located in The Wasteland

a character in “The Age of Gifted”, as played by MisterMagicMuffin

Description

Full Name: Roderic Alder Mayburry Montana

Nicknames/Aliases: Old Man, Lazarus, The Scarecrow.

Age: 150+

Gender: Male

Gift: Regeneration


Loyalty: His Beliefs


Description: Montana is a man who doesn't boast amazing height, (being 5'10/11) and stands eye level with most, and beneath eye level for some. His facial features are different, possessing the high cheek bones and stoic contours of the Native Americans, while maintaining the European subtly of his linage. He had a tendency to brush his cloths, (usually a three piece, Eruo cut suit behind a form fitting trench coat) free of ash and other debris.

Personality: His personality is largely subdued, Terror, panic, rage, elation, the building blocks of emotion are deadened by experience and long life. The echo's of these feelings sometimes resonate within him, but a reaction is rare. He often thinks about killing those around him, partly for mental exercise, and partly to learn how to exploit anyone's weakness should the need to kill them arise. Beyond this is the capacity to take life with no remorse, friend or foe. What remains is his ideology, a desire to see freedom become a tangible thing. He is willing to put his own life and freedom on the line for those he believes in.


Skills: Montana possess the limitless stamina, and tireless nature of his gift, and thus, is a deadly hand to hand combatant. This, couple with his savant Esq understanding of martial arts, he excels in close quarters combat, using a variety of blades with prejudice and precision. His knowledge of weaponry doesn't end with a knife, but it is his preferred means of disabling his foes. Montana is tactical minded, and employs a variety of stratagems to situations put in front of him, all leading back to espionage, his former occupation.

Weaknesses: Hard to trust when adhering to his base personality.


Brief History: Montana was born prior to WW2, to an English mother, native to London, and Choctaw Indian Father who served in the intelligence division of the United States Army. Living in London for the majority of his young life, Montana was quick to serve both Queen and Country during WW2. An initially peaceful young man, he didn't take a life until the fall of France. D-Day was the turning point in his military career, where he took his first of many many lives during their push up the beach. Soon after this he served across the remaining campaigns in Europe. However he saw violence form his own side, anger against civilians as well as injustice by ranking officers, and quickly grew disenfranchised with military dogma. So he left, taking full advantage of his gift and his absent need of food and sleep. He wandered the world, learning from all and listening to whomever had a voice. His wandering ended when he vowed to fight for his freedom, and thus, a modern mercenary was born. Montana quickly built a reputation as a capable espionage agent, and field combatant, first serving in the small scale battles after WW2, and then the black ops and intelligence operations of The Cold War. He built a mercenary company with men and women who had joined him on his travels. [Time between the Cold War and now hasn't been revealed in rp]

When the war started in earnest, Montana left his compound, a place that housed his fellows and their families, to slay the Litch Queen, a gifted who rose in prominence from the ashes of Old Transylvania. Her own power grew with the number of her thralls, a horde of humans, and gifted she had promoted to her generals. The humans she controlled with pheromones, turning them into the walking dead, while the gifted were granted buffs on their power in exchange for their service.

"The Thames thrashed with the rage of hundreds of thousands of human bodies."- Montana

Montana's last campaign was successful being aided by allies, and the False King Roger, a gifted who had declared his sovereignty and occupied the Tower of London.

[Time between the Gifted War and now has not been revealed in rp]

"I killed, and killed, and killed. I stopped when there was naught left but ash."

So begins...

Roderic Montana's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seth Ghysels Character Portrait: Roderic Montana
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"To recall our previous lesson, the true bane of a teleporter is predictability." "For those that lack perception, the unknown is a blight of terror. For those who exist in the space that watches the outside world, a power such as that is an opening." He pointed skyward. "Above" The finger joined the other three, while his thumb pushed backwards. "Behind." "Left, Or right." "Very few expect their opponent to dissipate, then draw themselves together in the same place."

"This is a fake, and if used correctly, will make your movements unpredictable. Such action will result in possible anxiety of your enemy, giving you the edge, beyond this however." He gestured to the numerous hitting backs scattered around the room. "If you apply this feeling of anxiety to a wide group, flitting in and out of their perception, what was the affliction of one could become hysteria to a group. Bleeding the beast."

The hitting bags carried various gashes consistent with wounds received from a hatchet. Short, deep, and viciously applied. "Even with a minute wound, the slow throb of what you've left them with will remind them you are always there."

"Now, in a larger scale battle it is important to pick a point, removed from the conflict, to observe and aid our allies when possible. This can be done by guiding them away from enemy efforts, or putting your enemies in the way of these efforts."

"Remember that traps will be lain out, with the expectation you will do these things, by skilled adversaries. Any patterns in your movement will be noted and exploited."

The older males hair was tied back into a short ponytail, save a few thick strands that fell free on the left side of his face. Behind him was a clothing rack, and on it were several articles of his trademark clothing, complete with a wide brimmed hat, which was perched safely at the top. His gym wear was simple, a pair of shorts that stopped mid thigh, and a loose undervest, that left the sides of his chest, and rib-cage exposed.

"First, land a grievous blow on ten bags, then engage me before my blade is thrown to the target, if you fail to do so, you must teleport yourself, and the target before my blade makes contact. If you succeed, you are allowed to use your power thrice during the tenure of our fight."

"Ready yourself Seth."

Montana hand wrapped around the hilt of his thrown knife, snugly sheathed in it's thigh strap.

"Start!"

The setting changes from the-wasteland to Helton

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: [NPC] Bartender Character Portrait: Seth Ghysels Character Portrait: Gale Eden Character Portrait: Roderic Montana
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Beads of sweat had started to fall an hour ago- maybe more, maybe less, Seth wasn’t paying attention exactly. They slid down his face, warming the already flushed skin before coming to pool at his collar. He had been sent moving about for most of that time, as well, only stopping to listen to Montana’s instruction when it came. His muscles were sore, and there was a bit of that familiar queasiness that came with frequent teleportation, but Seth considered that a good thing. It meant progress. Improvement.

Now, rocking back and forth on his heels, he listened once more to his teacher, green eyes obedient and intrigued. Seth was almost puppylike in his fascination- although that could be said about the boy no matter the situation. Even now, with the indentations of muscle visible beneath his shirt and on bare arms, and with the deadly gleam of hatchets in hand, he seemed more like a schoolboy than anything.

The effect was distorted, somewhat, by the light frown that touched his lips at Montana’s advice. It wasn’t one of disapproval, or of any sort of upset- it was thoughtful. Quiet. His eyes didn’t leave the other through this change, and as direction was given, Seth gave a brief nod to show his understanding. He had never attempted to use his teleportation in such a way- why bother, when you were so used to using it in the typical manner?- but it would be interesting. Fun. Helpful. Absently, he ran his arm across his mouth, hands tightening around the handles of his axes with the comfort of a hitter with a bat.

Within moments of Montana’s signal, Seth was gone- off to the land only others of his Gift seemed to know. He drew himself out just as fast, appearing at the side of the first target. With a swipe of his arm, the linen that made up the bag split, vomiting sand across the tiled floor. He didn’t stay to watch his efforts, instead moving to the next to repeat the process. And the next. And those after.

It was at the seventh that he slipped up. Rather than burying deep into the “torso” of the target, it instead nicked its side, leaving a shallow cut instead of anything particularly noteworthy. Granted, on a living person, there would be a chance of it eventually becoming lethal.

But “eventually” was not what he had been aiming for. Jaw clenching, Seth spun on his heel, surveying the damage for a slow moment. Not good. While he could still simply redo his attack and continue down the line, there was little margin for error now. And with the time wasted now with indecision…

He made his choice swiftly, and with little hesitation after that. Willing himself out of existence, he teleported to the dummy before Montana, planted his hand firmly upon it, and brought it several feet away again before disappearing once more.

When he reappeared, it was behind his tutor, arm lifted to swing at Montana’s back.

The setting changes from helton to The Wasteland

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: Seth Ghysels Character Portrait: Roderic Montana
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Where sand spilled from the belly of the bag, Montana saw intestines threading through fingers as their owners tried desperately to hold in what nature had coiled with its evolutionary touch. Fruitlessly. Those were all killing blows, requiring nothing less then healer, as a surgeon would still have a large margin of death to avoid. Speed was a key factor here, as any trained or experienced adversary would notice after their comrade was sliced open by a teleporter. This is where Seth's prior training and natural athletic talent shone through. With the eye of an appraiser keen gaze followed the younger males progress, quite pleased that the last hadn't been cut as deeply as the others.

This meant Seth had to make a decision.

A moment later his choice was made, and Montana's attack never found it's mark. Seth had opted to save his comrade, rather then risk landing another killing blow.

Seth choosing to finish his initial assault would have by no means indicated that the young man's choice during battle would be carnage in the moment over the safety of a Wanderer. Montana understood the stark difference between training and application. However it did probe the sections of the brain that dealt with reaction based decision making. If Montana could, he'd put a Zhuge Liang in everyone's five seconds.

Or aim as close to that as he possibly could.

Seth disappeared again, vanishing from sight, the phantom pain tingled far before the blade would taste his flesh, and Montana turned, drawing his blade and aiming to block the young man's hatchet hilt with the flat of his weapon.

Now the only thing left was seeing if he had guessed correctly on the arced angle of Seth's attack.

If not, he'd need to compensate in a split second to avoid getting hit, and he'd count that in Seth's favour.

"Anticipating I'd anticipate a fake. Interesting choice young Seth."

His second hand had already grabbed for the second weapon strapped to his thigh. Instead of bringing it forward to aid the first, he held it by his hip, in a defensive posture.