CHARACTERName: Janus Rogo; "The Butcher of Tenang Bay", "The Jet Knight"
Age: 36
Species and Gender: Human Male
Symbol:Occupation: Freelancer, Criminal
Appearance:Janus has a head of usually short, unruly black hair, something he's able to tame when he puts the effort forth. His eyes are a vibrant blue shade, almost to the point where they seem backlit. He finds time here and there to shower and clean himself up, at which point he's a fairly attractive middle aged man, who has managed to maintain a high level of fitness over the years. His height is slightly above average, measuring in at 73 inches on a good day. He's well built, though not overly thick, he's certainly not lean enough to be considered wiry or anything like that, weighing in at about 185lbs. His body is crossed and pocked with a fair number of scars, as well as a fair number of tattoos hiding under them. Old, military style markings, paying honor to old comrades, old missions, and things far darker.
He usually carries himself like a much older, worn down man. He seems to slouch, naturally, eyes warily scanning his surroundings. The more observant people that interact with him will notice that there's still a bit of a warrior inside his mind. There's a tendency to locate the nearest exits, the points of cover, or to attempt to pick out weapons. The tendency for his stare to wander over people, sizing them up, or evaluating them, has a tendency to aggravate people.
A lot of his attire is old, dull hand-me-downs and thrift shop purchases. His "off duty" fashion sense is slightly above average, just conservative by virtue of a fairy low income. He keeps some old tactical gear in decent condition, but rarely, if ever, has cause to pull them out. His tactical gear is an old set of military grade plate. It's very effective for his style of combat, with a fair amount of protection on the leading edges, but little around the joints in order to maintain mobility. It's armor designed for maximum aggression. Keep pushing, keep surviving.
History:Once upon a time, two soldiers, one of Atlas, the other of Vacuo, fell in love. It wasn't complex or surprising, really, given the bonds that could easily form when fighting a common foe. Their shared enemy was the Faunus, back during the Civil War. He, Cyrus, was simply a soldier of Atlas. Nothing more, nothing less. She, Cheri, however, was a Huntress. Graduated from Shade some ten years prior to the outbreak of the conflict. They came together, he was far less powerful, but warm and caring. She was hard and aggressive, but passionate and driven. The war ended, as it did, and they stayed together. He supported her as they traveled for her profession. He supported her as she carried their child. He supported her as they finally settled down in his homeland and started their family.
Once upon a time, a child was born to two warriors. They raised him to be a man of duty and valor, seeing to it he was well educated and well trained from a young age. He took to their lessons well, always seeking to push himself, or failing that, to be pushed by them. The boy was obedient, patient, and loved his parents. Sure, he wasn't raised around many other kids and they didn't really account for him developing socially, but they made him strong! He could defend himself if something happened! If he got lost in the woods, he knew how to find his way home, how to find shelter, how to survive! He was great! He was grand! He'd be a Hunter, like his mother and a soldier like his dad! He'd be the best ever!
Once upon a time, there was a young, up-and-coming student in Atlas. A warrior, savage and keen, always pushing himself forward, always rising to new heights. His semblance was fitting. He started using it simply to throw others around. With the years of schooling, he was shown new ways to use it. Shown how to channel his Aura in more focused, more precise ways than his parents ever taught him. He learned to soar above the land, crashing down as a meteor among the Grimm. The missions he went on are still spoken of, if only because of how distinct the thunderclap of his fall was at the time.
Once upon a time, there was a fresh-faced Huntsman. His reputation preceded him, as did his ego. He was barely a man and had already partaken in his share of Grimm cleansing. There was another path ahead of him. One that he'd sworn to take years ago. The path of the Soldier. There, in the army of Atlas, he could fight even more foes! He could fight in glorious WAR as his parents had! They'd surely send him to fight Grimm as well! And so they did. The Huntsman grew mightier, as he tested and pushed himself against any evil infestation he was pointed at. He handled Grimm, Pirates, and Faunus dissidents for years.
Once upon a time, a soldier received a mission. He'd received many before and paid this one no special mind. Interdiction of arms smugglers. Faunus leanings, most likely. Intel wasn't as concrete as it should be, yet the mission was given the go ahead. The soldier followed his orders without complaint or question. He was merely a weapon for their use, after all. He engaged three cargo ships at dawn, two of the three gave resistance. Faunus and human sympathizers. Some fifteen fighters against a single, highly trained Huntsman. It wasn't much of a fight. They were dispatched with brutal violence. He saw them as little better than the Grimm, through the lens of his own hubris. He saw them as nothing and he rent them asunder, as though they were nothing. The waves consumed their remains as the killer set about his work.
Once upon a time, a foolish young man made a mistake. He had no excuse. He has none today. He used his weapons to crack the hulls of all three ships. He left them splintered, burning, and going down in the middle of the ocean. No one could get their hands on the weapon stores if they sat at the bottom of the ocean, after all. It was, at the time, a reasonable, if a tad excessive for his given mission. Nothing too far out of the ordinary, aside from the dozens of corpses inside the ships.
Once upon a time, an idiot killed a bunch of innocent people. He sank two ships carrying weapons. He sank a third ship carrying refugees. Faunus that sought safer horizons. People who wanted to settle down and end their encounters with war. Innocent men and women that wanted merely to start a happy life for their families. Intel hadn't caught that. Just a shipment of illegal goods, along unofficial, unregulated channels, by a group notorious for their predilection towards putting destructive gear in the hands of violent, brutal folk. There really wasn't much of a way for their killer to know they'd existed, aside from the few survivors, clinging to the too few lifeboats, picked up days later. Survivors with a story of a point of focused savagery. A madman. A butcher.
There is a broken man out there. A murderer. A victim. An innocent man, guilty of the deaths of 206 innocent men, women, and children. He's haunted by old ghosts and demons, rising up from the depths. They come when he sleeps, sometimes. They come while he wakes, other times. The shell keeps his head down, for the most part. Avoids the public eye, in order to keep anyone from trying to take revenge on him, or whatnot. Legally, he's not really responsible for the tragedy. Morally, however, it eats away at him. Throws him off balance. Makes him see shadows where there are none. He's at a crossroads in his life now. One path goes towards madness, despair, and destruction. Another path the one he has chosen, leads towards recovery. Towards mending a world that was darkened by his actions. Sure, he might not ever be able to truly make up for it. But he can try and make the world at least a little better. The man is no hero. He's not a shimmering vanguard. He's not a knight, clad in pristine, glittering mail. He accepts what he is. Who he is. He could drag anyone down with him. He seeks only to push forward and upward, pulling along anyone else he can.
There is an old fool out there. Blinded by wrath, he allowed himself to be led astray. He finds himself sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of his own making. Where he goes, death follows, haunting him. An ever present spectre, looming over him, coming forth in nightmares, not usually waking. Dreams of dark seas and glistening shores and screams and
teeth. He wanders alone, staying true to the one thing he knows: violence. He hones his craft, practicing, training, fighting, and hunting. He evolves, in more obvious ways than some. His weaponry is modified, stripped down, better for keeping things at a distance. His hands are violent enough without the gauntlets, so a spear will serve just fine. The Tyrant didn't seem to mind. All things lead to the shape of the point. Nothing has ever lived that will not die.
So, to sum it up, Janus Rogo is presently a mercenary. He grew up in Atlas, went to school there, and naturally wound up working very closely with their military. He spent numerous years running any jobs they had, his skill level saw him get some more and more important/dangerous assignments. He did Grimm eliminations, escort missions, or elimination missions. Up until a few years ago, he was something of an Atlesian war hero. A highly talented, brutally effective specialist. Some shoddy intelwork on a mission to intercept White Fang members once they'd converted to more violence led to unfortunate events. He cracked the keels of three cargo ships just outside of a port in Mistral. One ship did have White Fang members, weaponry, and equipment on it. The other two were well stuffed with innocent refugees. All of the refugees died, as well as most of the crew. Enough survivors were able to report what had happened, while later investigation would also corroborate their reports, once the bodies were fished out. He was vilified, legal action was sought against him, but since he'd been functioning in his capacity as an Atlesian military member, he was tried in their courts. He was found Not Guilty, on account of a mix of corruption, proof of poor intel, and at least some desire not to punish a good, if unlucky huntsman. Few commanders would've taken him afterwards, regardless. Too much negative stigma. Too unlucky. Janus was content to leave, however. The whole situation put a bad taste in his mouth. The people tried to blame him, the military he'd served tried to sweep him under the carpet. He decided to try and ply his trade in the private sector, which is where we first found him. He was tricked into instigating a terrorist plot in Vale, blowing up an Apartment building, and escaping the area with only minimal pursuit.
Sometimes good natured, quick witted, with a penchant for dry to dark humor. Janus is usually a pleasant enough man to be around, on most days. He generally acts with good intentions, hoping to brighten peoples lives, cheer them up, or give them needed direction. While he does tend to speak his mind, he's not overly pushy, with a firm belief in allowing others to make their own decisions or choices for their own reasons.
Janus is extremely inquisitive, as a fairly odd turn from his earlier years. He has a powerful thirst for knowledge and experience. His willingness to try new things, to talk with people, to see how their stories play out, all this enables him to gain a deeper understanding of the world of Remnant and the people within it. He's not as well versed in general knowledge as he'd like to be. He's sharp and quick to pick up, but he spent enough time lying low and avoiding people that he's not up to speed enough on current goings on.
Given his history, he's a bit of a sucker for sad stories. He's absolutely a warrior at heart, too. A bit too righteous now, maybe, but time will tell on that one. He'll leap to the defense of those incapable of defending themselves. He'll aggressively pursue those he feels are acting with ill will towards the innocent. This mindset has often put him behind Faunus, aside from his earlier experiences with them. He tends to be a bit more edgy around them. He's less prone to engaging them with violence, as well.
Grimm, to him, are a scourge. They should be zealously hunted and wiped out. Their young are simply early tumors, needing to be excised as much as their adult variants.
Aura and Semblance:
Aura: Carnelian
Janus' semblance gives him the ability to generate a thrust envelope from any point on his body. By virtue of simplicity, most of the time he uses joints and the ends of his hands and feet for focal points. He's capable, with focus, of maintaining a high enough thrust-to-weight ratio for ten minutes of flight at speeds upwards of 250mph, while armored, and under 180mph while unarmored. Unfortunately, for him, combat tends to require a different mindset. If he begins taking fire mid-flight, he's capable of controlling a descent and not slamming into the ground at terminal velocities.
On the ground, he uses his semblance in bursts in order to accelerate his attacks and himself. His enhanced strikes will eventually wear him out. He can use his ability to fire off high pressure blasts from his hands and feet with ease, blending it into combat. He can do omnidirectional bursts, though they'll burn him out pretty quickly. Bunny hops and evasion are his other big use. His semblance is highly useful for scattering foes or putting distance between himself and lightweight enemies. Constant use of the thrust semblance will pull most of his aura in short order. He can hold burst for that long, but tends to be fairly useless afterwards.
Combat Behavior:In combat, Janus is an aggressive, evasive, hard hitting attacker. He blends his semblance extremely well with his fighting styles. He excels in midrange combat, where his rifle allows him to engage multiple light-medium threats with ease. His launcher is dangerously effective, with a propensity for overpenetrating light-medium targets, damaging whatever lays beyond. His threat evaluation is stellar, enabling him to re-prioritize, shift targets, and reengage with an almost supernatural speed. Close up threats are disrupted by blows from the rifle, his feet, or pushed back by his semblance until he can either relocate or switch weapon modes.
While unarmed, or when using the spear, he favors upper body strikes, occasionally switching over to kicks to disrupt opponents. Long, sweeping attacks from the spear hit with impressive speed and force. His maneuverability in the air has transferred over well. He's a solid ground-fighter for his age and size, but is exceedingly good at striking. He's able to rapidly switch between methods of combat, rolling from striking, to shooting, to relocating with dizzying speed.
Most of his weaknesses have been smoothed out by decades of experience, but he still has limitations. Most of them are standard limitations of his weaponry. Sufficiently sloped, dense, or thick armor will deflect the larger 20mm rounds, or cause them to detonate prematurely. Large enough groups can overwhelm him. Loss of mobility is likely the biggest threat to him. Take away his ability to reposition and he
will be worn down.
WEAPON
Name:
The Tyrant
Primary Form:The Tyrant is primarily a battle rifle, chambering a cartridge analogous to the .338 cartridge from detachable box magazines. The rounds themselves are hardened, built for fighting Grimm, and highly effective on people. They're slightly beefier than most assault rifle rounds, packing a heavier punch. The rifle mounts a 4x/12x scope, though that can easily be removed, allowing the user to revert back to simple iron sights. The standard models of this rifle are highly modular, though, this particular model has been customized to suit Janus' needs.
Attached to the Tyrant is an underslung heavy launcher. It's built to fire 20mmx102mm rounds, built for use from vehicle mounted autocannons or tripod mounted sniper rifles, only Huntsmen are able to manage this round, and most not very well. It's fed from a small, three round swing out cylinder, enabling for quick reloads of varying ammunition. He tends to use standard API rounds, though he'll switch out to special Dust filled variants in a pinch.
A hardened spike is recessed in the stock of the rifle, manipulating a small switch next to it will extend it, allowing for surprisingly powerful buttstrokes. A bayonet telescopes from in between the rifle and it's underslung counterpart. These two weapons allow for some effect in close combat.
Secondary Form:A recent, heavy modification has seen the Tyrant lose its former gauntlet mode. The rifle now splits along a lateral seam, locking at the rear, forming a short, heavy spear. It's light enough in Janus' hands to keep pace with any lighter version. Further, it retains the firearm functions, with the 20mm rounds firing opposite to the .338 analogue. The recoil from those rounds is sufficient to aid in the penetration of heavily armored foes.
Dust Functions:Standard effects on the 20mm rounds. Ice freezes, fire burns, etc.
History:Janus has been using this specific weapon for over 20 years. It's a highly effective variant of an old, modular Atlesian
infantrymans rifle. His adjustments to it have made it impressively durable, though it does need the occasional cleaning and maintenance day.
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