Wolfezth Severus Deraine

[Wolfezth Severus Deraine]

Wolfezth Severus Deraine

Invictus, Phoenix-Commander, Wolf

Age: 20

Religion and Language: Amoraean Paganism, Amoraean, Archaean

Faction Loyalty: Empire of Amoraea

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Profession: Phoenix-Commander of the Amoraean Army

Appearance:

Wolfezth is a healthy and rather tall six feet three inches. He has black hair cut short and steel gray eyes that reflect a certain coldness and toughness one has to have given his occupation and lifestyle. In this form Wolf is even among legionnaires insanely strong - and it shows in his frame due to his work ethic that borders on zero thought of self-preservation masochism, weighing about one hundred and eighty five pounds.

Personality:

Wolf is an easy-to-like guy when he feels safe and is comfortable.. And that's nearly never, but more often than that he can also be an extremely bullheaded, angry, asshole who will not budge on the littlest of issues. Want the blue rock? Too bad, you're getting the red rock and you're going to like it. The latter occurs more frequently than the former, as being a total jerk is much easier than being a mediator and a peacemaker. Let others do the work, you do the smashing and the whamming. Wolf respects people who have honor in the way they fight, but he himself considers it just sentiment and having no place whatsoever on the battlefield, and as such delights in having unfair advantages against his adversaries, using poisons and dirty tactics galore to gain victory... Because hey - combat's goal is to be the person left alive at the end, not to be a storybook hero and win fairly. Leave storybook tales to the bards and the poets and the writers; leave killing things to warriors. To friends he is a constant companion, an immovable force of support... And to enemies he is an unstoppable pain in their side, dogging constantly at their heels and making them fear for their life every time they turn around for he may be there - ready to take their life for their crimes. He is not afraid - fuck it, he's thrilled to see justice done himself in front of the masses - so to think you are safe in a crowd when Wolf is after you is folly. He also delights in arguing with others, and making others angry. He prides himself in the fact he's probably one of the most asinine people in the known world and could probably make a high priest or even a deity scream curses at him if he tried hard enough. To friends he will at his best behavior and listen attentively to anything they say, to random people it one hundred percent depends on what mood he's in. He's also notorious for his sit-ins to the Senate, purely to aggravate certain Senators he doesn't care for.

Placed in a leadership position, however, his mind turns to all seriousness. He's more than happy to play the jackass that annoys the hell out of Senators on downtime, but at the end of the day he's proven perhaps due to his inherent disregard for both himself and the due process that he's the most effective commander of the Amoraean Army, and that he gets things done - the right way. There is no abandonment of men, there are no expendables in his eyes. Every legionnaire is his brother, and he would fight to the last breath to save any of them if he had to, and has been more than willing to prove it on the field, making sure no man gets left behind to die on the field before leaving it - even in defeat.

History:

Being a Deraine is a hell of a thing to live up to. When your bloodlines include Imperator Marcus Deraine, who in the early days of the Empire had not one but two Triumphs in his military career, as well as Lucius Deraine, whose reforms transformed the Amoraean legions to the professional soldier arm it is today, filled with as many commoners as nobles - opening the door to any volunteer who wished to serve in the legions in 107 B.C.E., as well as establishing the position of Phoenix-Commander along with modernizing the ranks of the legion to what it is today.

Especially when your father is Fenrir Deraine - the man who is credited for making sure the barbarians didn't destroy Amoraea for good by holding them back with nothing more than a ragtag bunch of farmers and peasantry, denying their advance any further into the Amoraean lands while the resistance gathered.

Born in 400 C.E., Wolfezth was born in the last days of the Empire as it was before. Corrupt, conceited, and weak from internal squabbling. For as long as he can remember, he has been a soldier. From doing supply runs at the age of 10 when the Northmen first invaded, to the guerilla warfare stage of back against the wall desperation for survival at 11.

By the age of 12, the Northmen were largely pushed out of Archenridge, and while his father and older brother - Valerian were pushing out the last remnants of the invaders out of the border, Wolfezth was part of the training of the new legions of Amoraea. He was among the first of these new-age legionnaires. It wasn't ideal, of course, but desperate times called for desperate measures. They needed soldiers and they needed them right then.

His bloodlines pushed him along faster than most could dream of, as after being promoted from Tiro - or legionnaire in training to Miles Gregarius - or a Legionnaire in good standing... His rise was meteoric.

Both he and his brother soon served in the same Legion, the Fourth Wolfpack. Valerian was soon Primus Pilus, the senior centurion of the legion. At 13, directly out of training, he was Optio Centurion - or his brother's acting second in command of the century.

At 15, due to casualties in the fierce conflict to keep the encroaching Northmen from penetrating deep into Amoraean territory, Valerian and Wolfezth were named Heavy Commander and Infantry Commander, respectively of the Fourth Legion.

Bloodlines showed in both children, especially during the Battle of Thornvale in the Lykaios Province in the new Empire - where the Northmen made their biggest push into the Amoraean lands in late 417 C.E., where current Tribune Fenrir Deraine famously had his back trampled by a Northman cavalryman's horse, crippling him. The Northmen cut the infantry line in two, effectively cutting the Amoraean line in half in the action that did so.

This is where Wolfezth made a name for himself. This is where he earned his title Invictus - The Unconquerable. When the battle lines broke, most of the First, which Wolfezth was unfortunately split with - were green as grass and had never seen real combat before - fresh out of training. Outnumbered three to one, with the commander unable to lead, Wolfezth took charge. He rallied the infantry in his split, Fourth and First Legions, and cut through enemy cavalry that separated the two forces to reunite with the other half of the Legionnaires - trapping the cavalry in one enclosed space and simply cutting them down while they were pinned. After the initial shock charge and the split of the forces, since it did not cause a rout, backfired and merely left the Northmen without the main body of their cavalry. The barbarians outnumbered them, and were cocky. They rushed forward with ferocious, bloodthirsty zeal, and Wolfezth saw a way to counter that.

He ordered Valerian to go take a third of the remaining force to the left flank, focusing on flanking more than contact until a decisive blow could be made, and the then-infantry commander Raban Sverrir to cut to the right with another third of the forces. Wolfezth positioned his men to cover the departures of the other two, surging forward to get the bloodthirsty barbarian's attention, and then falling back - a delaying action. It was deadly work, and there were more than a few deaths along the way - as Wolfezth's force served only to delay and bait the barbarians forward so the double envelopment could take place. The barbarians took heart that the enemy seemed to be faltering, in a constant backpedaling retreat as their allies ran ineffectually away, in some last-ditch, ineffective effort to win the battle. Even as the barbarians on the flanks stopped to fight the flanking cohorts, more and more men made it further and further down the enemy line and, the main body of the Northmen force was still surging forward, aiming for the killing blow to the retreating force that was Wolfezth's.

Once the main force of the barbarians surged forward enough, the flanking cohorts surrounded the remaining barbarian force, and cut them down mercilessly to relieve the delaying force. All told, the Amoraeans had 2,200 casualties out of the 10,240 men they brought to the field and a permanently crippled Phoenix-Commander. The Northmen, all told, suffered somewhere between 16 and 18 thousand casualties out of the 30 thousand men they brought to the field, and another 5 thousand were taken prisoner out of the roughly 35,000 men they brought to the field that day.

Such a decisive win crippled the Northmen's ability to harass the Amoraeans for years, and at the age of 18, in early 418 C.E., since his father, Fenrir Deraine was unable to continue his duties as Phoenix-Commander due to his crippling injury, he stepped down and became the Tribune - or military advisor to the Senate; and refused to back one of his sons over the other in his own recommendation to the Senate for his replacement, merely stating that it should be one of them - as it is only right that the most able soldier be given the rank - and both of them had distinguished themselves at Thornvale.

Wolfezth didn't know it at the time, but Valerian had actually went to the Senate personally at some point between his father's recommendation and the actual selection to argue that his younger brother was the reason behind the victory at Thornvale, and deserved to hold his father's position.

The Senate concurred. Critics saw the appointment of Wolfezth to Phoenix-Commander a knee jerk response to one major victory - perhaps a fluke and the continuation of one bloodline taking and holding a position that others rightfully deserved with friends in high places... And perhaps one or both of those is true.

In reality, however, in the two years since Wolfezth took the reins of Phoenix-Commander, Valerian was appointed Legate of the Fourth, and the border with the horse peoples of the northeast has largely been stable, with the expansion of the walls and borders already in place and strategic placement of castra to ensure it would be difficult or impossible to get a large amount of cavalry inside the Amoraean border, and constant patrols along the Northern border keeping the frontier in some semblance of safety from the barbarians, he has held up his end of the bargain very well so far. He's emphasized a controversial measure of simply reinforcing what land they have, and focusing on quality of training and getting better equipment - as well as being proactive in getting the legions into public works - road rebuilding and construction to help the country get back on its feet. Some called this a waste of a valuable advantage to strike into the heart of Northmen territory, and they might be right. Wolfezth, however, believes firmly that to have success abroad you need to have success on the home front and have quality training, equipment, and supply lines. And that's exactly what he made a priority over the past two years.

His combination of idealism and paranoia of attack has led to a noted increase in micromanagement, and a general improvement of efficiency overall because of it. Even the laziest soldier is afraid to slack off, because there are constantly people coming to specifically check if this project is on time, or if this was getting done, or if they were running all of their drills. His zeal of training and micromanagement have earned him the hatred of some, and the love of others, but his attention to detail has overall improved the quality of legionnaires, the flow of supplies, and the rate at which projects get done in the two short years he's been in charge. In his mind, a shattered remnant of an empire is in no position to slack off while every enemy around them is getting stronger - particularly the Northmen, who are no doubt rebuilding to launch another major offensive - most likely without the cockiness that he exploited so handily at Thornvale.





Strengths/Weaknesses: (Phoenix Commander: Excels at Leadership and Tactics.)

Strengths:

His determination, his drive to win, to succeed. His ability to completely ignore pain during injury to keep on fighting because of it. His cunning, and ability to assess situations quickly and come up with a counterattack or way to win along with his natural leadership ability make him a force to be reckoned with. His quickness, speed, and quick thinking... His ability to diagnose a situation, know what he must do, and the ability to do it quickly and efficiently and his skill and familiarity with his weapons that can only be acquired from years and years of constant usage and being taught from the best and fighting the best for years and years. His exceptional willpower is also a trait that has served him well in the past, and his stubbornness and bullheadedness help him very much in that regard, as well as hurt him as often as not. He's also bullishly strong - often competing in strongman competitions and winning his fair share in Archenridge and other provinces - and has vast experience for such a young age in combat and warfare - he was raised almost from birth to be a soldier. He is also known for his love of shield bashing.

Weaknesses:

His inability to focus at times where he doesn't agree with what he's doing puts him at a disadvantage. His intense stubborn/bullheadedness can go either way, but sometimes he just refuses to do things no matter the cost or other options if he believes it is right. He also is very argumentative which doesn't exactly endear him to people, and gets really sarcastic which also doesn't endear him to people... And rather gets him into many a fight, sometimes to the death over the fightin' words that spew out of his mouth on a consistent basis. He reverts to an arrogant, bullheaded, sarcastic, cynical, and argumentative form when he's uncomfortable, hurt, doesn't care to come up with an actual reply to something, or offended quite a lot, and in this state he'd do just about anything -- becoming even more unpredictable as it were. He is also afraid of water, since he is an extremely poor swimmer. He also finds it difficult to stick to any sort of lie or alibi in the face of repeated questioning. So a clever person could exploit this and have him give information without him even knowing it. Despite all of this, or perhaps because of it, he is also a hopeless romantic who has been burned more than once in the power-seeking society of Amoraea, particularly among the upper class. Idealism is as much a weakness as it is a strength; especially because someone cunning enough could exploit it for all its worth. He is also not particularly skilled among legionnaires for his swordmanship, and indeed is not by any means a blademaster.

Weapons:

Damscus Steel Spatha (2lbs) ::Primary Weapon:: -- The blade of the Phoenix-Commander. An ancient blade, maintained to perfection which has lasted well throughout the centuries. To hold the blade Lucius Deraine once held, a nigh legendary figure in Amoraean military history, the same blade his father carried... He holds it in reverence, as the steel used to make it dissappeared centuries ago - and it is the only known sword of the type in Amoraea present-day, even before the fall.

A belt of iron normal balanced weight throwing knives that he uses as his ranged capability. (5lbs together)

Armor:

Lorica Segmentata

A unique scutum that had the emblem of a blazing Phoenix imprinted upon it instead of the emblem of a legion - the symbol of a new empire rising out of the ashes of the old like the mythical Phoenix, metal edges made of steel and with the highest quality wooden planks used in construction - making it hold up better for repeated use - particularly for bashing.

Full Steel Greaves

Steel Manica, or vambraces

Imperial Italic helmet with no crest

Scarf to prevent armor chafe

Silk shirt

Extra

Your OOC name: Wolfy

RP Sample:

Wolfezth looked around him, pleased beyond measure that out of the 350 currently active fully initiated Phoenixes... Every single one came with him to fight in this war. Fifty initiates had been sent to guard the families of those who came with him -- and after the war they would be made Phoenixes in full if they have fulfilled their task -- their contract. They had arrived to the outskirts of Trihali that night, and had encamped in seclusion -- taking care to hide their tracks while they scouted and only send the best. The men were tense, and most of them apprehensive as they beheld the foe that they would be fighting against... Even if it was only a fraction of the forces Chreina held in the lands of the North. Soldiers by the thousand filled the horizon with campfires and silhouettes... Letting each and every man know what they would have to get through to get into the city. His own steel gray eyes had looked over the scene a hundred times in his own apprehension -- taking time to pray to the gods that he will not just lead his men -- who had trusted him implicitly with their lives to their deaths. To their pointless, avoidable deaths.

It was hot, oh so hot. The men had not even bothered putting up tents -- merely threw off their armor for the time being and took this time -- the time before battle to relax and prepare their minds for the trials they would soon be forced to endure. Wolfezth himself waited anxiously in the middle of the camp, pacing throughout his soldiers, exchanging a few words with each man he passed and thanking them individually for their support -- their trust -- their loyalty. These men had no real reason to come with him -- they could've easily sought asylum in the South with their families... But had instead decided to follow Wolfezth into the valley of the shadow of death at least one more time to vanquish the newest foe -- the newest threat to their very existence.

Before long, two figures walked into the camp. Two hooded, black leather clad figures -- returning from their scouting of enemy lines -- seeking a chink in the armor that the Phoenixes could exploit. One of them was Kyra Nightingale, possibly the best saboteur in Dheynorian history... And the other -- Raél Deraine, his own wife... The only one that ever had the skill to catch her. Underneath their hoods, their eyes were the only thing visible. Kyra's startling green and Raél's clear blue -- preferring her elven form in this circumstance for some unfathomable reason. There was no preamble or ceremony before Kyra talked first, because one thing about the Black Phoenix that many would find odd is that even the leaders were treated exactly the same as everyone else -- they were truly a family of equals. Each family member using their skills to further the survival of the whole.

"The Chreinian line is not so sturdy as it seems, there are camps at regular intervals that rarely contact each other, merely sitting there waiting for the order for attack. In each camp there are roughly one hundred to two hundred soldiers on this side of the city, and doing a little searching we have uncovered a side gate that we can get through readily. I have also put the poison in every food and water supply I could, as you requested. I don't know what the hell that was, but you were right -- there was no smell or color difference." Kyra said, confident in her own observations and assessments. She then stepped aside and gestured to Raél, who added in her observations in a similar confident and collected manner.

"The opposite side is heavily guarded, with as much as five hundred men per interval there, and with the intervals much shorter between camps -- obviously something happened to make them think that side is more important than this one. They surround the entire city -- and their numbers truly seem limitless. Our only chance is coming in through the side in front of us, cloaking the entire camp in magic to prevent the enemy from seeing it somehow, taking them out and leaving zero runners to alert the other camps and make our way to the gate and get inside the city without them suspecting a thing. The only problem is that someone would have to make their way into the city and alert the forces inside to open the gate -- that or blow it down ourselves."

Wolfezth nodded slightly, trusting their word implicitly, and asked for a magical ward of silence from Raél before calling his troops over to him -- all 350 of them to explain what their battleplan would be. As they gathered around, they donned armor and looked toward Wolfezth with expressions akin to reverence, something that scared him more often than not. Wolfezth was not the tallest, the strongest, the wisest, or the most cunning of the Phoenixes... But with his leadership ability and charisma he had managed to be the leading force of the Company for decades. A common practice for him before battle is to deliver a rousing speech to get each warrior fired up, to get them ready to kill or be killed. To live and die by their weapons, their blades.

"Brothers, sisters. We have a cloak of silence that will prevail over this meeting, but hereafter we must make no noise on account of our plans being discovered. Before we begin, however, I would like to say that I am honored beyond belief that every single initiated Black Phoenix active has come with me -- risking their lives once again for freedom! For honor! For the prospect of glory -- to take back our homes -- to take back our lives -- and to avenge the death of a great friend and ally lost to Chreinian treachery!"

He paused for a moment, letting the cheers ring up and then slowly subside before continuing, grinning ear to ear as his steel gray eyes observed each and every man around him.

"The enemy in front of us is vast, vaster than possibly any foe we have fought in the past. Our method of entry will have to be gained by the blood of many enemies -- the blood of the bastards who stole our homes and forced us to move our families to the South for safety! I don't know about you, but I sure as hells am sick and tired of laying down for these godforsaken bastards! I don't know about you, but I'm ready to fight back!"

Kyra and Raél beside him couldn't help but grinning as well, the sight of Wolfezth in his element was a beautiful thing. The emotion, the power of his words were not imaginary in the least. He led by example with the definition of honesty and arrogance at times. The cheering, had the noise barrier not been there would've alerted every soldier for miles that someone was nearby -- for it was nearly deafening.

When it died down again, Wolfezth continued again, walking around to look every soldier in the rough circle around him in the eye.

"How are you going to do this, you might ask? Well, our greatest scouts in Kyra Nightingale and Theloria Shadecloak have located for us a weak spot in the Chreinian lines -- a crack in their armor. Do not be fooled, the great armies of Chreina are not dumb enough to leave a spot unguarded, and there is no place where we could slip by unseen by the guards. The solution is obvious, cleaving a path to Trihali using our livelihoods, our blades!"

There was deafening cheering once more, but it died down relatively quickly so Wolf could get on and lay out the plans.

"I do not mean for us to cleave through the thousands of the Chreinian Army, that is folly. They have over-reinforced the west side of the siege, and weakened the east. They are stationed in camps at regular intervals of one hundred to two hundred soldiers. Past one of those camps is a smaller side gate that we can use to gain entry. What we will do is have our wonderful mages create a deep, rolling fog that will allow us to get the jump on and eliminate the camp of soldiers guarding this side gate and gain entry. Raél has been exchanging letters with the General in charge, Aranion before the siege had taken place. He knows we are coming -- and she will personally infiltrate the line and get into the city and present said letters to the General one way or another so we are not trapped outside. Kyra here has seen to it that our foe is weakened, so we will send our stealth team in to dispatch the troops that remain awake. You see, I made a special sleeping poison to slip into their drinking supply and their food -- and by the time we get there most will be out cold. All we need to do in the fog is to kill any who aren't quickly and quietly and press onwards. Those of us -- like myself not gifted in the art of stealth will surround the camp and kill off any runners. There is quite a gap between this camp and the nearest -- and so long as we put rags on our boots and don't scream, yell, and stomp on the ground we should be fine as long as the fog is rolling. The glory of this fight lies in our stealth arm, and in Shade going through the enemy lines undetected. The rest of us will have our chance soon enough when the inevitable assaults come. When the camp has been cleared, we will assist our carriers into getting into the gates first, and the rest will follow. There is zero margin for error in this, do you understand me? Not one enemy soldier leaves that camp alive -- every man we kill here is another one who will not be at our throats when the final battle begins! Now, the march begins. Once inside Trihali we'll find out what needs to be done and assist in driving these bastards out of Dheynor and reclaim our homes! Prepare to march, and make peace with the gods before combat. If you all perform like I know you can -- we will all make it through the gates of Trihali unscathed and ready for the trials ahead -- make your preparations. And gods be with each and every one of you." He finished solemnly. He had done the best he could given the resources, and only hoped it was enough.

When Wolfezth was finished, he watched as a small cabal of mages -- numbering about forty start the spells to conjure the fog that would be needed. He grinned slightly, satisfied at their effort -- because he knew the fog would be impenetrable within minutes. If everything went according to plan, there would only be around 50 easily dispatched and distracted soldiers in the camp... Easy pickings. He adjusted his sword belt as Shade walked up to him, a questioning look in her clear blue eyes -- the only thing he could see about her in her hooded and masked form at the present.

"Do you really expect the North to open up the gates that quickly, on a whim? And... Isn't Kyra better suited to this sort of stealth work?" She asked, obviously stunned at the trust he had just put in her. If she failed -- every single Phoenix would die this day -- or force down the gate and cause the North to lose Trihali and its bastion of power... Spelling death for everyone. The fog would last for an hour at most, and it would take forty-five minutes or so to even get there. It left precious little time for error -- for any of them.

"If they do not, it is your job to figure out a way to open them, love. You can simply fly over the gates once the fog rolls in, but take care that nobody sees you land. I don't want them getting scared of demons and having stupidity getting us all killed." He said lowly -- as to not be overheard. His words were for her alone, his voice strained with worry on what could go wrong -- what could easily go wrong near the end. He hugged her close for a few moments, letting her warmth spread throughout his body... Giving him some much-needed confidence in himself for the coming minutes and hours.

"It's all right, everything will go fine Fenrir. There is no one here that wouldn't rather die than fail you -- myself included. I'll get it done, whatever it takes. Just take care not to die..." Shade choked up at this point, pulling away from Wolfezth for a moment before saying in a strained voice -- barely above a whisper. "Gods be with you." And with that, black; batlike wings slid through the slits in the back of her blackened leather armor, and she took to the skies just as the fog was starting to roll around the castle -- just the east side -- and just the area in and around the encampments of soldiers near enough to respond and on the gate to help secure their entry -- anything more would've just taken too much energy.

Wolfezth looked up the sky, and followed his wife's ascent until she was out of view -- hidden in the black sky and under the cover of the clouds and into the growing fog. As she disappeared, his most experienced and greatest lieutenant Jartix Braeke tapped him on the shoulder, and as he turned around he could not help but see the eerie similarity between them. They both bore the same field plate mail, with the emblem of the Black Phoenix upon the chest and were nearly the same height... The only differences lying in weaponry and apparent age but... From a distance they would seem almost like mirror images -- and the irony in that was not lost upon him... As it seemed not long ago they were at each others throats in a struggle that nearly destroyed both of their Companies...

"The Phoenixes are ready to answer the call, Wolf." The man said roughly, his brown eyes peering into Wolfezth's own steel gray with something resembling... Excitement? The old bastard still had enough fight in him to be excited at the prospect of war, and for that reason Wolf couldn't help but grin the slightest bit.

"I suppose that we can't keep them waiting, now can we?" He said, hiding his own apprehension of this entire conflict. He always had to put on a brave face in front of his men, but inside before every battle he was a coiled ball of nerves and nervousness despite his experience. Once the battle actually started, however, he drifted into a battle calm that granted him a clarity few could match.

[Wolfezth Severus Deraine]

Accepted.