First half/draft of the sheet is up. I've got his opinions down in my head, just a matter of finding the time tomorrow. If any edits are needed or anyone wants to talk over relationship ideas I'm open to anything.

Marcus [+]

_{Name: Marcus Vantiri | Age: 19 | Race: Human}

_{A P P E R A N C E :}

A young lad who's still growing into his hand me down armour, though he'd deny it to the end. Marcus has already undergone something of a transformation since joining the legion. When he was brought before their quartermasters he was just some scraggly street rat. All skin, bone and sinew. Since then he's gotten three straight meals of bland tasting army rations and has been put through his paces on a regular basis by the training imposed by the sergeants, however rushed it may be. The end result was like watching a whippet being turned into a mastiff.

His sallow complexion that plagued Marcus in his old life was slowly replaced by the sun kissed tones of someone spending all their time outdoors and on the march, although it's noticeably uneven as Marcus is usually in his armour, leaving parts of his face and torso to remain pale. He's yet to find some free time to try sunbathing. As for the armour itself Marcus takes what he can get. The legion has fallen on hard times these days - as folks are constantly reminding him – so no two suites ever look the same. Marcus has managed to salvage himself some chainmail, a cleaner surcoat than most and some clothes with some padding still left in them to go underneath it all.

He still looks like he never gets enough sleep though, probably because he doesn't. You try getting rested sharing a tent and a barracks with a bunch of snoring, farting soldiers all night.

M I N D :

”The boy should have tried being a jester, he runs his mouth enough.” Was what the old drill sergeant had to say about Marcus. They also said that his runaway mouth would get him killed some day, to which Marcus countered that it would probably be getting a sword rammed through his body that'd be what got him killed.

Marcus is a sarcastic back-talker and it seemed even his training under the legion couldn't stamp that out of him, in fact it's more than likely that he stubbornly made sure to be more blatant with the attitude just to spite the stuck up veterans. Marcus has been on the bottom rung of society all his life and spent his days being kicked and rubbed into the dirt for this sin of being born into the gutter, so he quickly learned it helped to have a gallows sense of humour if only to serve as a coping mechanism.

This little rebellious streak doesn't mean he's mad enough to sass the proper higher ups that is. The lad knows when it's time to get serious and when to shut your mouth and follow orders. No he'll only stand up to his superiors when he thinks something's actually on the line, like when he called out a captain over some of the men not getting their due rations and stared the old git down... all while trying not to piss his britches for fear of the inevitable execution that would follow doing something so stupid. He's still got no idea how he didn't die over that. Maybe they were right about his mouth getting him killed.

If there's one thing Marcus can't stand it's the kind of self obsessed folks that take themselves too seriously. As if anyone in the legion's had themselves a lovely old life. Everyone here's had their own strokes with death or watched a friend die, but there's those that wallow in it, that wear their suffering like a medal or worse, they try to turn it into a competition. Ain't nobody had hardship like them, you just don't know, you could never understand. Marcus has nothing but contempt when it comes to that kind of person.

As far as magic is concerned... well that's not something he's ever encountered. Not up close and personal anyway. Marcus feels that same unease and mistrust around it as all the ignorant feel around something powerful they don't understand but he can't say he has any strong feelings about it either. It's always just been something that happened to other people, y'know. Marcus is fully aware he's a grunt, a nobody and fully expendable in the eyes of his superiors. He thanks his lucky stars his made it this far and is just trying to keep it together as he finds himself thrown in with the gods and monsters that make up the legion, usually by hiding his fear behind a stupid smirk.

_{H I S T O R Y:}

Born a gutter rat in the imperial heartland, the bustling metropolis of Feroxi. The older of two siblings Marcus found himself thrust into the role of caring for his younger sister, Maggie. So he took work as a dogsbody down by the docks whenever he could and usually got a kicking from the nearest drunken sailor for his troubles. What else was a lad in that position to do but turn to a life of crime? The gangs were always happy to bring kids on board, they went unnoticed by most guards and made light handed cutpurses and Marcus proved better at it than most. He made a good living out of it for the most part. Sure they were still living in poverty but Maggie didn't have to go hungry most nights and was kept warm enough to see through each winter. But it wasn't enough for Marcus. The streets were cruel to kids like them and men could prove worse than any wolf with their own plans for growing girls and boys. He had to aim big, to go for a real score... it went badly. In his foolishness he got himself kicked out the gang with a target on his back to boot.

There was only one way out from there. Once the army came to town and recruiters looked for folks willing to take an iron coin in Tarkus' name. The legion would offer him some protection and a good enough wage to send home to his family. No one mentioned anything about crossing the mourning sea to go on a fresh campaign when he joined up! Marcus would always resent the legion for that, and even more once legionnaire life turned out to be more mud and blood than honour and glory. It became impossible to send coin home once they got shipped out but his responsibilities back home always staid in the back of his mind.

So for now Marcus has tried to keep his head down and stay alive long enough to see home again. After the whole missing rations incident Marcus got made the unofficial cook among his brothers and sisters in arms and can usually be found tending a stew pot over a communal fire and throwing out crass jokes along with his portions. For as much crap as he gives his fellow rank and file legionnaires he's proven that he cares about the poor sods in that soldiers bond sort of way, earning him some leeway from his more forgiving comrades.

_{M O D U S O P R E R A N D I:}

While there are plenty around with a lifetime of experience and training with their own family weapons and personalised tools of murder Marcus simply has his slapdash training to rely on and the standard issue gear. While the upper echelons of the army are made up of those that lead the charge and throw themselves into the enemy lines he'll be among the countless rank and file that make up the rest of the charge. To put it more personally if Hanir can be seen leading the centre of the phalanx then you can probably see Marcus holding the third spear on the left.

He's been trained to use a spear and shield and is equipped with a legion shortsword if things get up close. He's competent with both of them but his sskill's nothing to write home about as any form or grace usually gets lost amid the chaos of battle. What Marcus is good at is hiding behind his shield and stubbornly digging in to find that last dreg of stamina to keep himself on his feet as the battles wear on and the wounds pile up. Not that he'd call an aptitude for taking a beating a skill.

One thing that does set him apart from his fellow grunts is his dextrously talented hands. Marcus is ambidextrous, a word he'd never heard until he joined up, having always taken his comfort in switching his dominant hand for granted. Other folks always told him that it was a handy thing to have and a good way to throw off your opponent. Marcus figured if it could help keep him alive he'd try using it so he's started working on the straps of his shield so he could switch which hand he holds it in quick and easy while hind a dagger behind its rim. He still needs to practice it more before he can call it a proper technique.

_{O P I N I O N S O N O T H E R S}

Words

First half/draft of the sheet is up. I've got his opinions down in my head, just a matter of finding the time tomorrow. If any edits are needed or anyone wants to talk over relationship ideas I'm open to anything.

Marcus [+]

_{Name: Marcus Vantiri | Age: 19 | Race: Human}

_{A P P E R A N C E :}

A young lad who's still growing into his hand me down armour, though he'd deny it to the end. Marcus has already undergone something of a transformation since joining the legion. When he was brought before their quartermasters he was just some scraggly street rat. All skin, bone and sinew. Since then he's gotten three straight meals of bland tasting army rations and has been put through his paces on a regular basis by the training imposed by the sergeants, however rushed it may be. The end result was like watching a whippet being turned into a mastiff.

His sallow complexion that plagued Marcus in his old life was slowly replaced by the sun kissed tones of someone spending all their time outdoors and on the march, although it's noticeably uneven as Marcus is usually in his armour, leaving parts of his face and torso to remain pale. He's yet to find some free time to try sunbathing. As for the armour itself Marcus takes what he can get. The legion has fallen on hard times these days - as folks are constantly reminding him – so no two suites ever look the same. Marcus has managed to salvage himself some chainmail, a cleaner surcoat than most and some clothes with some padding still left in them to go underneath it all.

He still looks like he never gets enough sleep though, probably because he doesn't. You try getting rested sharing a tent and a barracks with a bunch of snoring, farting soldiers all night.

M I N D :

”The boy should have tried being a jester, he runs his mouth enough.” Was what the old drill sergeant had to say about Marcus. They also said that his runaway mouth would get him killed some day, to which Marcus countered that it would probably be getting a sword rammed through his body that'd be what got him killed.

Marcus is a sarcastic back-talker and it seemed even his training under the legion couldn't stamp that out of him, in fact it's more than likely that he stubbornly made sure to be more blatant with the attitude just to spite the stuck up veterans. Marcus has been on the bottom rung of society all his life and spent his days being kicked and rubbed into the dirt for this sin of being born into the gutter, so he quickly learned it helped to have a gallows sense of humour if only to serve as a coping mechanism.

This little rebellious streak doesn't mean he's mad enough to sass the proper higher ups that is. The lad knows when it's time to get serious and when to shut your mouth and follow orders. No he'll only stand up to his superiors when he thinks something's actually on the line, like when he called out a captain over some of the men not getting their due rations and stared the old git down... all while trying not to piss his britches for fear of the inevitable execution that would follow doing something so stupid. He's still got no idea how he didn't die over that. Maybe they were right about his mouth getting him killed.

If there's one thing Marcus can't stand it's the kind of self obsessed folks that take themselves too seriously. As if anyone in the legion's had themselves a lovely old life. Everyone here's had their own strokes with death or watched a friend die, but there's those that wallow in it, that wear their suffering like a medal or worse, they try to turn it into a competition. Ain't nobody had hardship like them, you just don't know, you could never understand. Marcus has nothing but contempt when it comes to that kind of person.

As far as magic is concerned... well that's not something he's ever encountered. Not up close and personal anyway. Marcus feels that same unease and mistrust around it as all the ignorant feel around something powerful they don't understand but he can't say he has any strong feelings about it either. It's always just been something that happened to other people, y'know. Marcus is fully aware he's a grunt, a nobody and fully expendable in the eyes of his superiors. He thanks his lucky stars his made it this far and is just trying to keep it together as he finds himself thrown in with the gods and monsters that make up the legion, usually by hiding his fear behind a stupid smirk.

_{H I S T O R Y:}

Born a gutter rat in the imperial heartland, the bustling metropolis of Feroxi. The older of two siblings Marcus found himself thrust into the role of caring for his younger sister, Maggie. So he took work as a dogsbody down by the docks whenever he could and usually got a kicking from the nearest drunken sailor for his troubles. What else was a lad in that position to do but turn to a life of crime? The gangs were always happy to bring kids on board, they went unnoticed by most guards and made light handed cutpurses and Marcus proved better at it than most. He made a good living out of it for the most part. Sure they were still living in poverty but Maggie didn't have to go hungry most nights and was kept warm enough to see through each winter. But it wasn't enough for Marcus. The streets were cruel to kids like them and men could prove worse than any wolf with their own plans for growing girls and boys. He had to aim big, to go for a real score... it went badly. In his foolishness he got himself kicked out the gang with a target on his back to boot.

There was only one way out from there. Once the army came to town and recruiters looked for folks willing to take an iron coin in Tarkus' name. The legion would offer him some protection and a good enough wage to send home to his family. No one mentioned anything about crossing the mourning sea to go on a fresh campaign when he joined up! Marcus would always resent the legion for that, and even more once legionnaire life turned out to be more mud and blood than honour and glory. It became impossible to send coin home once they got shipped out but his responsibilities back home always staid in the back of his mind.

So for now Marcus has tried to keep his head down and stay alive long enough to see home again. After the whole missing rations incident Marcus got made the unofficial cook among his brothers and sisters in arms and can usually be found tending a stew pot over a communal fire and throwing out crass jokes along with his portions. For as much crap as he gives his fellow rank and file legionnaires he's proven that he cares about the poor sods in that soldiers bond sort of way, earning him some leeway from his more forgiving comrades.

_{M O D U S O P R E R A N D I:}

While there are plenty around with a lifetime of experience and training with their own family weapons and personalised tools of murder Marcus simply has his slapdash training to rely on and the standard issue gear. While the upper echelons of the army are made up of those that lead the charge and throw themselves into the enemy lines he'll be among the countless rank and file that make up the rest of the charge. To put it more personally if Hanir can be seen leading the centre of the phalanx then you can probably see Marcus holding the third spear on the left.

He's been trained to use a spear and shield and is equipped with a legion shortsword if things get up close. He's competent with both of them but his sskill's nothing to write home about as any form or grace usually gets lost amid the chaos of battle. What Marcus is good at is hiding behind his shield and stubbornly digging in to find that last dreg of stamina to keep himself on his feet as the battles wear on and the wounds pile up. Not that he'd call an aptitude for taking a beating a skill.

One thing that does set him apart from his fellow grunts is his dextrously talented hands. Marcus is ambidextrous, a word he'd never heard until he joined up, having always taken his comfort in switching his dominant hand for granted. Other folks always told him that it was a handy thing to have and a good way to throw off your opponent. Marcus figured if it could help keep him alive he'd try using it so he's started working on the straps of his shield so he could switch which hand he holds it in quick and easy while hind a dagger behind its rim. He still needs to practice it more before he can call it a proper technique.

_{O P I N I O N S O N O T H E R S}

Words

Also, to anyone - I would definitely appreciate critiques on my CS if you have any, since you all seem to have a really good grasp on writing your characters, and something I've not done in a while. I'm rereading my CS and it seems startlingly unrealistic.

Hey look at that a post! Hope you guys are good at keeping your chronologies in line, or this prologue is going to get really confusing really damn quickly. lol.

how difficult could that be?

@Drunken Conquistador
I'm gonna say it anyway. In fact all the Voices can do it. It's part of where their names come from. _{You see I think about these things sometimes.}

But that's about as far as they can extend with most people. Since Verse is Tainted if they really want to they can hijack her entire body as need be. Though that's more of an Undying thing to do than a Voice thing and if the Undying is doing something like that well you better be on the Next Continent because they do not like having to intervene with such insignificant matters.