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Infinite Anarchy CHARACTERS

Sep 28, 2013
Purging the Heretics
Copy and Paste to your PM with the faction your affiliated with as the title

[b]Name:[/b] Your Character's Name
[b]Age:[/b] Thanks to the advance of medicine, a human being can live to about 200 years where as androids and Novus can live longer
[b]Personality:[/b] What makes you you?
[b]Race:[/b] Currently there are 3 you can choose from, Humans, Androids, and Novus. Humans serve the Terran Republic, the Dominion, and the Solarians. Androids are Novus Infiltrators, programmed to look, act, and feel human. Novus are empathetic AI that are connected to other Novus
[b]Skills:[/b] What are you good at? Can you hack, can you steal, can you shoot, what?
[b]Job:[/b] What do you do for a living if anything?
[b]Military Affiliation:[/b] Do you work with the military or not? If so what is your rank and job? Each faction has a unique unit.
[b]Weapon:[/b] What weapons do you use if any (Maximum of 2 weapons and 2 attachments)
[b]Special Equipment:[/b] Maximum of 3 
[b]Character Picture or Description:[/b]

Terran Standard Infantry

Solarian Standard Infantry

Novus War Drone

Dominion Standard Infantry
Mister Grimm
Sep 28, 2013
Purging the Heretics
Terra Firma Republic

Name: James Archer
Age: 23
Personality: James started off his military career a bit hot headed. He ran head first into the fight without thought on the consequences or the lives he risked. After serving a few tours as a Terran Helljumper, he began to mature. Sure he takes risks but he gets things done. His motto is life is too short too take everything so seriously. James is relaxed and easy going when he isn't insight of a superior, and cunning when he's on the field. He's quick on his feet as all Helljumpers are. James knows when to be a leader and when to be a follower, he doesn't know when to give up though. Perhaps that's what has kept him in the Terran army for so long, who knows?
Race: Human
Skills: James was always too clever for his own good. As a child he was often called into the principal's office for being a bit too rambunctious. Whether it be rigging a toilet to blow, constructing a pencil crossbow to shoot at the teacher's desk when they weren't looking, or just simply getting into a fight for being a bit hotheaded. James is also a very skilled runner and climber, moving like a monkey through a jungle. It was this skill that got him into the Helljumpers.
Job: Soldier
Military Affiliation: Terran Military, Terran Helljumpers
Weapon: Mk.3 Bug Zapper with a smartlock and recoil dampener, M909 Pistol
Special Equipment: Standard Helljumper Jet Pack, GPS Receiver, Smartlock Transplant
Biography: Born on the hive world of Canus, James was born to a family of officers. His father served on the Terran battleship "Charybdis", his mother on a guardian cruiser by the name of "Helios IV". When his mother was pregnant with him, they settled down and left the military. James was a bit a disappointment to his father but his father saw a bit of him in the boy. When James joined the military, his father was more then pleased to see he made it into the marines. James started off as a grunt, repairing ships and loading them until it was discovered who his father was and his running record in high school. James was then instated into the Terran Jet Troopers, or "The Helljumpers" as the marines so affectionately refer to them as. Equipped with a jet pack, the Helljumpers act as scouts, saboteurs, and MEC killers, running along roof tops and taking out key points.
Character Picture or Description:
Casual Attire
Standard Helljumper Armor
Username: Mister Grimm

Dominion of Man

Name: Njord Skallagrim
Age: 75
Personality: Never one for petty mischief, his favorite hobby was always finding the biggest, baddest person in the room and promptly putting them on their ass (breaking a few bones in the process was also common). Very confrontational, easy to provoke.
Race: Human
Skills: Can operate heavy weaponry, fantastic as a shock troop and is often used to break the enemy front lines. Also somewhat skilled in demolitions and can get 'creative' with explosives at times.
Job: Soldier
Military Affiliation: Dominion 'Berserker'; occasionally executes traitors in the courts of the Lord Marshal
Weapon: Twin Widowmakers, fitted with high-capacity magazines and heavy barrels
Special Equipment: Grenade belt, carbide-coated tactical axe, breaching charges
Njord always loved fighting; whether it be some thug on his homeworld trying to harass an innocent person or even if someone just looked at him funny, he was always sure throw the first punch. The thrill of combat - especially if it came down to his 'victim', as he liked to call them - was something he would never give up. This also made his association with the authorities quite frequent; eventually it came to a point where he was forced into a mental hospital because people thought he was psychotic. During his stay here, he eventually found the story in a book about the Norse Vikings and how they lived their way of life. He then came to a self-realization: He was meant to become a warrior, a true force to be feared on the battlefield. After knocking out the orderlies and escaping the asylum, he became a fugitive of the law and after learning of a place where the Dominion of Man was looking for soldiers eager to fight he quickly enlisted.

Njord Skallagrim was from the get-go a fierce warrior whose skill in battle is matched only by his bloodlust and eagerness to fight. Like nearly all of the Dominion's soldiers, he underwent the standard rounds of physiological augmentations to make them into blood-fueled engines of war and destruction for the glory of the Lord Marshal and the Dominion. However, he is one of a few unique cases; the process 'broke' him slightly in that it removed what traces of fear he had and amplified his desire to fight into full-blown bloodlust. His adrenal glands quintupled in size and his body grew to accommodate an even more impressive musculature; his overall intelligence did diminish a bit but he gained an increased perception in finding enemy weaknesses and exploiting them. The changes also seemed to enhance regenerative capabilities, allowing him to take the hydrostatic shock of countless bullets without faltering. Too much damage and he would eventually 'berserk', sending his oversized adrenal gland into overdrive and killing all the nerves associated with pain in his body. Blood seemed to fuel him; the more that was shed, the harder he seemed to fight.

As his service went on, his loyalty to the Lord Marshal - the man who helped fulfill his purpose in life - grew. And to this day, he would still cling to one thing: He would bring ruin to the Lord Marshal's enemies and become a warrior worthy of inspiring true, bone-chilling fear into them before tearing them in two.
Character Picture or Description:
Appearance without Armor
Broken Customized Infantry Armor
Username: Razgriz​

Name: Vincent Argalus
Age: 24

Vincent is reserved and maintains a calm level of poise when confronted with chaos. He does not share the same craving for war as most of his brethren have. He does understand the importance of performing and serving to keep his culture, family, and nation safe.

Race: Human
Skills: Espionage, Explosives, Advanced Orbital Operations, Advanced Long Gun and Small Arms training, Hand to Hand Combat, Close Quarters Tactics

Job: Recruit for Petra

Military Affiliation: Special Forces Recruit of Petra, a snatch and grab team for the dominion who also performs Military and Industrial espionage. They are tier 1 operators if compared to real life military units today.


Primary: The SIR - Standard Issue Rifle with silencer, modified stock, modified pistol grip and trigger release.

Secondary: Jaguar X9 - Semi-Auto hand gun firing a .40 calibre round with a triangulated laser system that surrounds the muzzle, one dot above the muzzle, two dots below and one to the left while the other to the right, creating a triangle.

The Jaguar or Jag 9 has a automatic blade release, the blade itself will emerge from just below the muzzle in between the two lasers on a horizontal plane.

Special Equipment: OPED or Orbital Placed Explosive Device, Helmet Advanced Technology or HAT, Orbital Claws.


Vincent was born under the Dominion Banner, however his world was not always apart of the Dominion. Vincent's world was once a beacon of its own power, before the expansion of the Dominion caused war instead of peace. The Dominion lost a lot of men as did Vincent's world, Naer.

At the end of the war, the Dominion has fortified their grip on Naer, the Dominion offered Naer to yield so that they would not obtain anymore casualties, the Naer people had fought hard and with vigor which ultimately led the Dominion to like them and wish to instead wield their abilities instead of destroy. Naer yielded to the Dominion and were told that they had to contribute to the ever growing Dominion military by sending their boys to the Dominions academy's to become soldiers for the Dominion.

The chance to return to Naer was once the individual served their time of 8 years.

Vincent on the eve of his 7th birthday was approached by a large, muscular, primal looking Dominion recruiter. A man who seemed to have the power to crush another mans skull with one of his giant battle scarred hands. Vincent was informed of his future and that he would be sent to the Dominion academies in two days time.

The day after his birthday he was sent to the Dominions core and began military schooling and training that had been provided to Naer children only. They were segregated from the rest of the Dominion children until the age of combat readiness. 18 years of age, the Naer children would be sent to the graduating academy of the Dominion. Where all the boys their age would go if successful in their schooling and training, they would participate in several war games to score points. Higher your points, the better a unit would bid on you to join them for combat in reality.

Vincent had been a trouble maker up until this point, he was smaller than most he was going to fight. When the war games began, Vincent was placed in the under dog team and was being led by a rather incompetent Dominion core boy. Losing the first two games, the third was commandeered by Vincent and they won. Dominion officers evaluated how Vincent ignored chain of command and he lost points in his overall scoring.

Vincent did this again for the fourth and fifth game, ultimately he was removed from the games and as a candidate for soldiering.

Vincent was to state why he did what he did in front of the board in charge of the games and academy after being removed. Once he gave them his reasoning to deny orders, a unit confronted him with an invitation, a unit where a name does not apply. They are not known among the games and are only ever heard about in stories in the Dominion core.

Petra Unit or Stone, they are a high speed unconventional military operation unit who's soul purpose to create havoc behind enemy lines. They do not fight the same or have the same objectives as the conventional Dominion forces.

Once invited and accepted into the Petra unit there is an additional 6 months of PUT or Petra Unification Training, where they put a school of recruits, typically 100, through a rigorous training camp. 10 - 25 of these recruits will have made it through the first 6 months or PUT. Another 6 months follows where the 10 - 25 recruits will go through the Petrification Trials. Each recruit will confront their darkest fears, be subjected to interrogation processes, and will conduct a series of mock missions that will place their lives in increasing danger. Recruits have died during PUT and Petrification.

Vincent currently is on his last mission for Petrification.

Character Picture or Description:


(Petra Unit Combat Gear)

Username: Strike Back

The Solarians

Name: Sidra Hesperus.
Age: 30 (looks 20).
Personality: Sidra is often times quiet, though underneath this typical exterior, there is a fiery feisty streak that will show itself when she is pushed the right way. She is a kind-hearted soul, wearing her emotions on her sleeve and exhibiting impulsive behavior that has rendered her scoldings from her brother.
Race: Human, serves under the Solarian faction.
Skills: Sidra can sing, her voice considered soothing to those who take the time to listen; she doesn't get turned off by the sight of blood or anything along those lines and has helped out occasionally in the infirmary when assistance has been needed making her useful in times of crisis should the need for 'extra hands' arise.
Job: Sidra has no set and steady job, relying primarily on her brother who is away more than around. However, she does volunteer at the infirmary on board her ship from time to time and has acquired some skill as a result of that.
Military Affiliation: Sidra does not serve in the military, therefore she has no rank. Her brother Samson (a bit rowdy and daring, though he would scold Sidra if she ever exhibit such behavior) serves as a pilot and is often away on duty leaving Sidra by herself most of the time since their parents are deceased.
Weapon: Sidra does not have any weapons.
Special Equipment: Sidra does not carry any special equipment.
Biography: Sidra is the youngest of two children to Marek and Celisse Hesperus, her older brother--by 5 years--being Samson Hesperus. Like all Solarians, she was born in space aboard a vessel knowing nothing but the nomadic life most born of her faction have come to adopt as the only way of life. Her family is heavily involved in the military, her father having served the moment he was able and eligible, a fierce and loyal pilot who saw many battles until he finally lost his life during one of the skirmishes that broke out between themselves and the Dominion--something that instilled the first true sparks of both fear and hatred toward the Dominion in Sidra. Shortly thereafter, her mother fell ill and never recovered to her full strength. Sidra and Samson, both, were certain that their mother had lost the will to truly live with their father gone and, sure enough, the woman's health eventually declined until she finally died. Solarian death records state that Celisse died of an unexplainable lung infection, a bacteria too difficult for their technology to kill off and thus heal her. But, Sidra knew better. Celisse did not want to live. She had given up so as to be with Marek once again. Knowing the truth only further increased her hatred toward the Dominion who had been harassing her faction for so many years. Killing off friends and now family, literally ripping away those she loves one by one.

Losing both parents was hard on both Sidra and Samson. In order to ensure his sister's safety and well being, Samson's duties within the Solarian military were increased and he needed to be away more frequently than be around as a direct means of protection. Unfortunately, this also meant his life was in more danger and at greater risk. In a constant state of worry and wanting to both occupy her mind as well as feel useful to her people, Sidra decided to volunteer her time at her vessel's infirmary. In doing so, she began to slowly acquire skills that she hoped would prove useful should those of her faction truly need her one day…though it was a day she hoped would never come.

Now Sidra spends most of her time alone, terrified that her brother will die much in the same manner as her father had thus leaving her truly alone. Her anger toward the Dominion grows with each passing moment that Samson has to be away and she longs for a day that true peace will reign, though she fears it's a day she'll never get to see.
Character Picture or Description: Long auburn hair, blue-gray eyes, pale skin, dons a tattooed 'H' on her left shoulder for Hesperus (her family name), stands at 5'2".

Username: darkangel76

Name: Ayana Vos
Age: 47
Personality: Ayana's natural competitive nature was what led to her discharge from the Solarian Marine corps after a few too many incidents of unreliability during combat that cost the lives of several others. This had the expected effect of leaving her very bitter towards them despite her typically friendly attitude towards others. She is intensely focused, and has difficulty seeing the broader picture at times, making it difficult for her to work in a squad but also making her a very effective solo pilot.
Race: Human
Skills: Ayana trained as a markswoman during her stint in the Solarian ground forces and paid off her rifle upon her discharge so she could keep practiced in it's use. Since joining the pilot's corps following that she has become relatively adept at piloting both her Gypsie fighter and the more cumbersome 'Manta Ray' dropships. She also possesses a degree of expertise in civilian-grade software and computer manipulation though this sees little use most of the time.
Job: Military
Military Affiliation: Pilot
Weapon: 'Tallboy' Sniper Rifle
Special Equipment: Gypsie Fighter, Customized Long Range Communicator,
Biography: Despite -or perhaps due to- being born shipboard like the vast majority of Solarians, Ayana often preferred the feeling of soil beneath her feet to weightlessness. She joined the marines at the young age of twenty thanks to her father's influence, younger perhaps than should have been strictly permitted of her. Marine training did little to curb her focused nature and ended up costing the marines a number of lives over the course of two separate incidents where she refused to follow orders and prioritized emotional attachments to close friends and squadmates in the incorrect belief that her involvement (or lack thereof) as a marksman made little difference to the survival of the greater force.

After the second such incident, command decided to cut their losses and Ayana was given a dishonorable discharge from the ground forces. She spent a year in civilian life as a software specialist before giving up and coming back to the military, signing on this time to the piloting corps where her nature and attitude where far less of a detriment. She still bears a grudge towards the marines but she gets along well with her fellow pilots and has slowly warmed to her duties, even if she still longs to feel hard earth beneath her feet every so often.
Character Picture or Description: Picture 1
Username: Kaybee​
Mister Grimm
Sep 28, 2013
Purging the Heretics
The Novus

Name: N-02-117
Age: 238
Personality: Inter changeable but Default is cold, calculating, and inhuman
Race: Novus
Skills: Master hacker, and strategist. Adequate shooter, and technician.
Job: Core job. squad leader.
Military Affiliation: Yes. Master Sargent equal, and squad leader
Weapon: Rail gun "Ark" with a recoil dampener and S.C.O.P.E. (alerts user where to aim based on target distance and wind) , and "Red Dragon" heavy rifle with recoil dampener
Special Equipment: Retractable wristblades
Character Picture or Description: N-02-117
Username: Sirix​
Mister Grimm
Sep 28, 2013
Purging the Heretics
The Nephilim

Name: Vimrys Korvel
Age: 68
Personality: Vimrys is a soft-spoken man, preferring to simply observe until and unless intervention is necessary. The glassy crimson of his optics can be unnerving, even eerie, but those who spend enough time with him soon grow accustomed to the look. His time among the Nephilim has come with a deep self-importance and a morbid, sarcastic sense of humor, but maintains much of the cold, ruthless devotion to efficiency that was drilled into him during his Dominion education. Born and bred a soldier, designed from head to toe, Vimrys, despite being able to stretch his arms during his time with the Nephilim, still often finds it easier to relate to an AI than to a more emotional human being, especially when it comes to a matter of a moral compass. To Vimrys, the means do not simply justify the ends: The end needs no justification.
Race: Human, In Vitro (Corvus strain)
Skills: Incredible sharpshooter, effective leader, trained pilot, survivalist and martial artist. Quick learner.
Job: Nephilim Sovereign. Ex-Dominion Sniper.
Military Affiliation: Independent Nephilim Sovereign.
Weapon: Anti Materiel Tranis Rifle. Attached laser with data relay.
Judge sub-machine gun. Attached grenade launcher.
Special Equipment: The Queen Bitch - Hercules-class ship with Nephilim grav-field tractor beam, comm. scrambler, anti-missile flak installations, and bi-directional thrusters.
Locust-class Dominion power armor. Titanium plating with joint freedom, jump jets, navigator, weather analyzer and EES (Extreme Environment Survival).
Tri-vision, zooming optical implants (light, heat, tremorsense).
Biography: I am the iron tip of my lord. I am the eyes that root out his enemies and the fist that grinds them to dust. I am the spearhead of his armies and the vanguard of his flock.
Or, at least, I was.
See, the lovely thing about the dominion is that ambition has no place in it. There are thinkers, doers and leaders, and if you so much as consider doing any more than you were meant for, you have a problem.
Needless to say, I had a problem.
I was born in a test tube, prescribed an enhanced genome, far from uncommon among the Dominion's military caste, and assigned to a live-in education program as a recon and assassination specialist. It's pretty much just as dreary as it sounds. I was barraged with information and propaganda stir-fried well enough it was impossible to tell the difference for the duration of my formative years while I was taught to read and listen through the same medium. With that out of the way, the remainder of my pre-adult life was spent honing me for my purpose. Unsurprisingly, sniper training was tough. Even with our pedigree genetics, the relentless drills and exercises drained more than a handful of my contemporaries to collapse, and consequently, death. There was no mercy wasted on those who shamed their purpose by denying it before it even began.
Everyone has their own way of motivating themselves to the finish line. Honor, bloodlust, the drive to live. I had never been one for honor or crazed lusts, and I had seen too much death to hold life to any intrinsic value outside of the functionality it granted. For me, it had become a game. A contest. I was the kid who did the work another way, yet always came up with the same sum. I had learned to turn what the Dominion knew as a vice into a virtue, and I reveled in it. So long as I was better than my competition, I was happy - there was no reason to improve further. And so long as I wasn't, it ate at me. At first I was alone, but the playful ferocity of contest spread quickly enough for as long as it remained unchecked, motivating some, utterly demoralizing others. What did I care? It was fun.
That 'childish' nature of mine served me well into adulthood, moving up from outer rim recon and surveillance through deep infiltration. The first discomfort was how the illusion of respect was given or not based on tradition rather than to who had earned it. It just seemed so silly. The vids always portrayed leaders as charismatic, knowledgable masters of their fields. The reality was far more bothersome. I found myself 'led' by arrogant prettyboys spewing theory after theory about tactics and logistics and using anecdotes from decades ago as a filler for actual battlefield experience. But, of course, they were designed to lead, as was I to follow, perpetually restriced by an unmovable ceiling. So, during one of my infiltration missions, I vanished. Died without a trace. Hid under a superstorm for long enough to stop my suit from sending pings with my vital signs back home. Wasn't all me, of couse. They taught me how.
The Nephilim. Their organization has a plethora of fences among the dominion and republic, even a couple Solars - along with recruiters, smuggler and enablers, agents who found and recruited me. But, of course, those are just the Nephs' equivalent of civvies. The real bread-winners, the ones who wanted me, were the pirates: raiders and pillagers extraordinaire. Ships, mining bases, even whole colonies. All the ruthlessness of the dominion with none of the fundamentalist bullshit. I was no longer a faceless goon fighting a faceless enemy. I was alive again.
Rising among the ranks of the Nephs was much faster because of the tighter, smaller, decentralized organization of power. That also, of course, meant workplace drama spread like wildfire, much to my dismay since the fact that I didn't care enough to offer my input made me a 'great listener'. Why they didn't just talk to a wall is beyond me, but I suppose it helped out in the long run.
See, any contest for the role of sovereign has two stages. The second is the one I was ready for from the start: the duel. But there is a preliminary that must be dealt with beforehand, lest a sovereign be drowned in ballsy, brainless challengers: the appeal. A challenger must have enough of a sphere of influence among the Nephilim of a sector to be taken seriously, and soon enough I did. My competition did not yield and the duel, which took place on a vast asteroid collesium known as the Cauldron, ended as quickly as expected. And with that, I became sovereign of the Theta Sector, cross-imperial space and home to some of the most lucrative trade routes in the galaxy.
Three weeks prior to the massacre at the intergalactic conference, one of my bases was attacked rapidly and tracelessly by an anonymous enemy. Once the attack on the conference, less than a dozen AUs away from where my station was hit, reached my ears, it wasn't that hard to put two and two together. Nephilim havens are almost always completely barren, hand-picked for two reasons: Being unreachable and undetectable. Fafnir's Eye was no exception. So that meant that any assault on a haven was to use it for its singular purpose: To launch something else in privacy. Once the comm. links went offline even we had no idea where exactly the asteroid-veiled starbase was. The only certainty is that whatever this was, it was an inside job. Nobody but an ex-Neph could know precisely enough for a takeover that sudden. Best case scenario, we have competitors. Worst case... is something I'd rather not dwell on.
Character Picture or Description: Vimrys // Lord Korvel
Username: Raze​
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