Hoshit. Didn't realise I was up on the reserves list. Working on a profile naow.Name:
Tigrus, Rus, "The Orange Howler"Age
: 85 kgHeight
Braggadocious, charming, charismatic, passionate, sarcastic, gregarious.Likes
: Drama, flair, glorious combat, good jokes, bad jokes, his armour, the good life.Dislikes
: Poverty, mundanity, being bored, being told "no", having his ribs broken.Quirks/Flaws
: After a year or so spent on the gladitorial circuit, Tigrus has picked up many skills in fighting, but still hasn't come across "real" combat. He lacks experience in front-line battles, and although he's seen a few temporary comrades die of their wounds in the arenas, hasn't suffered the pain of seeing a true friend die on the battlefield. Thus, he has a certain amount of arrogance that gets tiresome when coupled with his lack of "real" combat experience. He also has no idea of how to deal with money, having been born with a silver spoon in his mouth.Talents:
Tigrus can pull off a blindingly savage offensive attack and at the same time throw puns that would stun even mutants. He's a wonderful people person, knowing exactly how to work a crowd, knowing how to bluff accurately, and how to get people "on-side", even if it's at the cost of his own dignity. He's also a competent fighter, and is perfectly capable of taking on one or multiple foes, but would struggle alone against a deadly and merciless enemy.Occupation:
Playboy/ex-prizefighter, friend of the Royal family.Background:
Tigrus has had a great
life. Being born to one of the wealthy families of Thundera whom have good ties with the Royal family, you could say he's had it easy. Used to a life of luxury and everything he could have ever wanted, it was natural for him in his teenage years to yearn for something different, something harder, just to tick his rich and well-meaning parents off.
That thing was gladiatorial combat.
Suiting Tigrus's flair for drama and danger, the young tiger sought initiation into various low-level games, and used his hefty allowances to persuade the organisers. Although he had benefitted from various expensive gymnasiums, he wasn't exactly prize-fighter level, and neither did he have much natural experience with weapons, like so many of the other famous fighters. To this end, he commissioned various pieces of armour, gauntlets, gloves, boots, all made of a lightweight but sturdy metal. Clad in this fighter's gear, Tigrus took to the games with gusto. He was good, his expensive personal trainers, diet and flashy armour giving him an advantage, but he lost various fights and contests to other gladiators that were far more experienced than he. It was in one of these losses when Tigrus, frustrated, beaten and tired, let rip on his victorious opponent, his black humour and razor-wit called down every insult under the sun. When the crowd roared in unexpected laughter, Tigrus seized on this, and made it a cornerstone of every game, whether he lost or won.
His big mouth was a unique selling point, a tonic to most of the grim and dour combatants the crowd were used to seeing. Every fight turned into a spectacle at some point, Tigrus, or the "Orange Howler"
as the spectators were now calling him, taking every oppurtunity to barb his opponent verbally, or make some light-hearted joke about the Royal family, or his own lack of experience, whatever, to get the crowd laughing and on his side once more. Thus, even when the "Orange Howler" lost a fight, he was almost guaranteed a spot in the next round regardless, because he kept the entertainment level high.
After a vicious bout of semi-finals, Tigrus had taken a severe beating, the pain and a few broken ribs being too much for even the Orange Howler to make jokes about. After this, his by-now fraught and angry parents managed to persuade their son to stop in his little fame stint, having proved his point that he was both a competent fighter and an annoying loud-mouthed little kit.
Rus took a break. He took his earnings and for a year, spent them on rich living, treating his friends well and splashing out on expensive meals for his fans (not to mention lavishing various ladykits with expensive clothes and jewellery). A little older now, and fully healed, Rus still dreams about the day when he would become Thundera's champion...or, failing that, another situation would come up and shake him from his comfortable little lifestyle again, put some danger and flair into his life. His armour is repaired, his body fully healed, and the rebellious spark has flared up in his belly once more. Weapons:
His gauntlets, gloves, and boots. Welded from a durable yet light metal, it can turn away iron and steel blades. Rus's punches and kicks are therefore more dangerous then normal fists and feet. He doesn't wear any heavy breastplate, so he is still very quick on his feet whilst retaining an impressive damage output.Special ability:
Bluff. Rus can talk his way out of, and into, almost any situation. Style:
Part kickbox, part dance, part wrestling, part kenpo, Rus switches up his style depending on his opponent. But the talking is always a constant. Always, the talking.