- Intro Video
A Centurion, with out a Centuria…
- Who Am I...
Vindictius, or Vindy. But you can also call me Cent. Insult the cardboard, and I'll carve out your eyeballs.
- Romantic Interests
DONT even try me.
- Relationship Status
Neil… my frosty angel in the red, I only see thee..
- My Story Is...
None know the true origins of his story
Some say that he is the lost son of an Empire destroyed by the Cataclysm, others tell stories of Vengeance and hate. Regardless of the past, this is what he has become. A terror on the streets, striking fear into the hearts of Crime and the waste of the hood. Roaming Persistence in search of bandits and criminals to slam his hammer into. None know why he is so devoted to truth and justice, but one thing is for certain; his goals are his own, and he is a legendary Warrior. None have bested him in melee combat, not even a legendary hero turned demi-god named, Taurus. It’s a sad story, really, for Taurus was so confident that he could best the Centurion that he brought his only son with him to watch him ‘Crush the little man.’ They had lasted three minutes against the Imperial Might behind that cardboard armor, and his son watched in horror as he executed their father. With one last heavy bash from his hammer, Taurus stumbled and his head slumped on his shoulders, broken but not yet fallen. The Centurion said not a word as he stepped in, yanked the warrior off of his feet using the crook of his hammer and stomped his head into red mush. He left the child, shaking and crying into his hands, as ruthless as he was cunning in his journey. The child swore Revenge, and when he came the age guess what? The Centurion murdered him too. Beat him down and didn’t even give him an execution like his father, just knocked him with a light blow and sent him stumbling to bleed to death from the inside. Letting them struggle on the ground with their last moments, before laying still as he left them broken in the snow. He has taken bullets, knives, bats, two by fours, magic, teeth, nothing gets through his armor. All sorts of vicious or other wise violent poisons are blocked out by his pure outrage and fury. Frowning in his helmet while his nose leaks like a faucet of black, tarish blood. You can’t even ever see his face, no matter how hard you look into the helmet, he’ll always hide everything. No eyes, no mouth, just dark, heavy metal and the fabric of some hoodie, bits of duck tape and maybe, if he is wounded, some bloody flesh. Nothing else, and you’ll never get to remove the helmet. He’d rather tear his own limbs off trying to stop you than let it happen while he was alive. The man under the helmet, is only an alibi for the true hero underneath. He never likes to look directly at himself in the mirror, especially because he is really disturbingly bald. Even when he shaves, he never looks himself in the eye, like normal person..
“Tis better to die on your feet, than live on your knees…”
- My Appearance
He stands at five foot eleven, a moderately small man with a broad and heavy build.
As you can see here in photo A, the dark metal plates on his self-made helmet’s exterior surfaces work well with the hard cardboard-duck tape layering on the top of it.
Here in Example B, the Centurion displays a visible displeasure with both the gun in his hand and the chest before him as he slams into it with his ringed, work glove covered, and cloth wrapped fist
(Example C ) Sometimes, when the Centurion makes his journeys around the place, he comes across these demented chainsaw people. Which is very strange, because he also met a strange young man named Simon who swore he had met the same strange maniac, some time ago…
In Example D, he shows us a bit of what he is made of. Strange, almost inhuman fingers with heavy metal rings visibly protruding from the strange yellow grabbers. And a H.U.D of his little blue numbers representing his ever counting willpower to restore his health; and two crescent shapes that represent both his hands as well as his health, and ammo.
The following is about to be an extremely brutal display of metal and blood. Viewer discretion is advised
With a vicious upward blow of his knuckles and rings, he strikes the the Man in the Power Armor. A strange foe he has yet to ever find a home base of. It is as if, they do not really come from this place at all. Regardless of where he’s from, his guard is broken!!
And with his foe stunned? He strikes!
The force of the blow that rendered his opponent disabled made the Centurion lose one hand from the hammer as he struck it down and regained composure. From this after this strike, he takes a stance while the wounded man would stare at him as they decided his fate
Turning the hammer over in his grip to put the weight into his punch, the Centurion slams his fist into their mask. Punching them so hard with the impact of his rings and glove and hammer-handle that the glass and metal of the mask cuts its wearer. And makes the blow even more devastating as they fall…
With his enemy on the ground and at his mercy, he lifts the hammer above his head. Knowing that if he didn’t strike his foe down, then surely they’d rise up in opposition to him once again. And he wasn’t going to risk that happening to them twice, and he moves in to execute his victim.
With a mighty downward blow of the sharp crooks at the other end of his hammer, the Centurion breaks deep into ribs and vital organs. Blood pooling in their chest and bone poking and stabbing into the already stirred and disturbed vitals. Needless to say, the Soldier dies pretty quickly. And he removes his hammer, to carry on…
Standing alone and with his pistol, the Centurion holds these stairs against the enemy as a horde of vile creatures pour in from all sides of the bunker. The others guard the gate, while he and one other man held this doorway. He’s in that pool of blood over by the stairs, and Cent alone fires round after round into the vicious enemies.
When one gets in his face? He is more than happy to oblige it with a quick kick as he cried, “MOVETE!” The power in his thrust, breaking the brittle and weary bones of the victim the creature atop controlled as host and parasite die as one.
And the creature after it is unaware of his brutal carelessness for the condition of his weapon, and the savageness of his willpower as the next one tackles into him and gets shattered under the blow of his weapon. Not killing it instantly, but certainly a sudden reminder of its mistake as the next blow would surely kill it.
Upon drawing the knife, he becomes a totally different fighter. After having stomped one man to death and drawn it from its sheathe attached to his left arm.
In one foul dash forwards and heavy attack, he pushes the blade up in his grip with the tip down to increase the cutting power. Cutting the man deep in the neck, straight through his armor and into the soft tissue underneath while his buddy winds up an attack
That lethally charged and static metal stun baton misses! Flying right over his head as he casually ducked and slouched out of the way. You see, when he fights with the knife he prefers to dodge rather than block like he does with the hammer. It’s a lighter weapon, and easier to sneak in to vital areas as he turned it back over with a quick movement of his fingers.
The enemy cried as his knife found the soft part of the back of his leg. Ducking in and going low as he circled around back behind him and disabled him for his finishing move.
With out a word, the Centurion came up behind him and locked him in. All that armor and life affirming flesh beneath of all those layers come squeezing in. The man, helpless now because of his crippled leg dropped his weapon in terror as he choked and gagged for air. Clawing at the armor in desperation, but it didn’t matter
He drove the knife deep, deep into their body. Rupturing several organs and opening a deep hole in his right lung while also breaking several ribs before it collapsed. Killing him before he really even had a chance to scream, but making sure he had several seconds to suffer while the Centurion twisted his blade in their body.
And after going limp in his arms, he shoved the body away for it to slap against the cement.
After a running start, the Centurion can go into a battle-trance where he focuses his anger into one destructive blow; a body slam. Just as Godzilla can do to his enemies, the Centurion can do unto his own; even the tallest of foes like this nine feet of flesh and hate staggers back and suffers from the blow he did unto it
And despite the fact that its weapon is larger than himself, it doesn’t seem to stop him from being able to use his opponents own attack to be his undoing, for he PARRIES: Catching the incoming axe by crossing his hammer over his left fist and locking it in before throwing him off balance.
Stumbling off to the left and caught off balance, the beast had no chance to even try and resist the Centurion as his hand came flying up for it in its moment of vulnerability. Grunting something fierce through his visor as he closed in
With this hand, he grabs him by the neck/shoulder area with his mighty grip, Squeezing him tight into that ringed embrace of his fingers and the harsh material of the work glove. Helpless now as he can only watch that knee drift up and up and then-!
For thirty five damage, the Centurion beat his knee into their eyes and nose and ruined his shit.
Beset on all sides by different creatures of the same variety as the other bunker scene, this time three much stronger zombies beat their sharp claws into their armor. One grabbing onto his helmet and back while the other two slammed their razor sharp hands into his flesh before he could even draw his hammer. One cutting right across his chest, biting those sharp tips into his body and ripping out his life blood. That did it-
He roared in defiance, the damage was too costly and sudden as one of his crosses shatter and he goes berserk. Thrusting himself up against any incoming attacks or their hands as they all stumble back in surprise and the sheer force of the upset Centurion. Fully enraged, he wouldn’t need a hammer for what they were about to go through.
Faith, Willpower, Might, Hope
Every day ordinary hammer; some think that he has it enchanted to do more damage, but this is simply not true. It’s just that he hits with such little restraint, such vicious vigor and rage that he simply makes a hammer feel like ten of them. Two sharp crooks in the back he uses to impale and grip his enemies, control them with its hook shape in its flesh where he can slam them into a wall, or hold them still for his fist. It also gives him the confidence with its bulky strong shape for him to go into the Body Slam, no other weapon stance allows him to do this. He’s also more than down to slam the rubber handle in his fist down onto someone for a quicker blow, and in combination with the left fist he has free with it he is a devastating foe with this tool in his grip. He has broken some before, and must buy one on occasion; thus far, he has broken three.
Despite its rustic appearance, this weapon is very deadly and sharpened to a lethal edge and tip. Capable of biting straight through metal armor with a proper thrust, and trust me he has had to make plenty of those. A much lighter weapon, so much so to the point where when he draws it he must engage in a totally different style of fighting. Reliant on a heavier focus on quick, painful attacks rather than blunt destruction and completely unrestrained attacks. A bayonet knife, belonging to his grandfather who had served in a war and brought it back in its sheathe. Many years have passed, and the once uncared for knife has now found a new purpose in the hands of its master’s child. A handy tool and quick weapon to draw should his hammer ever break, and this blade will never give in due to its simple devotion to its barer.
A fairly powerful 9mm Beretta pistol, purchased by the Centurion long ago in a different life. Not that he reincarnated, oh no, just before he became the Centurion. It has a fifteen bullet clip, and can have one in the chamber for sixteen in total and he carries five extra clips (45 bullets) with him. It is a special pistol, for instead of relying on him to have to change the amount of bullets that are in his clips he can just shove the clip in there, and the pistol will take the bullets that it needs before keeping the rest in the clip. Enabling him to say fire six shots of one clip, drop that nine bullet clip out and keep nine bullets in the pistol. Giving him an empty clip he can fill later, and then allowing him to shove another full one in there to fill the gun and have a clip in it with nine bullets. Simple; Smart; Effective. But he only employs it if he must, like he says, “A Hammer to Fight, a Knife for tools, and a gun to cower.”
Standard road flares, ten of which he carries on his person. Capable of producing very powerful light and handy dandy for starting fires or just tossing onto the ground for light. You see, due to the way that he fights he can not duel wield his things like say Pistol/Flashlight or Knife/Pistol. Instead, if he has to fight in the dark he’ll pop a flare, toss it onto the ground and draw his weapon of choice to fight more effectively. That, and a flashlight can’t cover everything, and sometimes you miss a Zombie in the corner just sweeping a beam of light around.
A highly powerful torch found in a police station long ago. It has a very long lasting battery, so much so that it has lasted him ten days in the dark. Once when he had gotten trapped in a cave in one of his battles, he fought and survived his way through a creature infested hell-hole till he found his way out. And this mighty light was his savior; a very strong beam and wide area of cover, and a sturdy metal body he’s not afraid to club the fuck out somebody with if they get up in his face. As said before, he does not like to duel wield his weaponry, so even as helpless as it leaves him he has kicked and beaten his way out of a very dire situation indeed with this beautiful little light.
The Infantry First Aid Kit (Or IFAK) is a standard medical bag with six bandages covered in gauze, honey and other anti-biotics and painkillers that supply instant and soothing relief to an injury and keep it clean and mended. Restores forty health, and he has gotten very good at wrapping them up very quickly. It also comes with a hemostat kit, a basically infinite amount of hemp cordage he uses to stitch wounds shut and infused with more anti-septics for a clean, non-infectious injury in wire that dissolves in the body once the wound is healed. Thus is why it is made of hemp, only restores twenty health and takes a long time for him to do. It also has several band aids, a dose of morphine, a blood-clot packet and piece of washcloth for wiping blood away and washing wounds. This thing has saved his life more times than he can remember, and he always has a store of medical supplies waiting for him at home to restock and prepare.
NON PICTURE STUFF:
THICK DENIM COAT
DUCK TAPE COVERINGS
FLATTENED SPOONS WRAPPED IN DUCT TAPE
Five clips of ammo for his pistol
and a hell of a punch.
- My Secrets Are...
Love has not treated me kindly… long ago, I had a terrible loss of both a mother, and her child… and I’ve never been the same since then. When I got my vengeance, I decided to wander the lands in search of a new love. A new person for me to pledge my lifetime loyalty and vigilance to..
“He is a fire type titan, he can turn into his God form at any moment and fight in a much more profound area of effect!”
After he got his revenge, Mars bound him into the Titan Godzilla to go forth and challenge the Elder Godzilla roaming this realm. He beat him, and after that became… God King Godzilla! in the year of 2014! Credit to them.
- I Believe...
In the Red…