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 G3 Brum Dumfield

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Posts : 188
Join date : 2014-08-27

PostSubject: G3 Brum Dumfield   Wed Apr 22, 2015 8:39 pm

Name: Brum Domfield

Alias: Ergo

Languages: German (because we're nazis, all of use should speak German), understands most Russian and Slavic (backstory), English


Race: Parahuman

Theme Song:

Classifications: Striker 6, Breaker 2

Gender: Male

Age: 17

Description: Tall, Blond hair, Less evil face than faceclaim, lithe but sturdy build, keeps face mostly covered (except eyes) with bandages or a white face mask. Also much younger

Backstory: Born into a poor Polish family in 1927, Brum had the epitome of a simple life. He lived in a small rural village, with the scars of the first world war written all over it. The people wore mostly rags and skins from deer and cow. They wrapped their feet with shoes made of rabbit fur and wooden blocks that serves as soles. While all of them were poor, they shared amongst themselves and rarely went hungry in the summer months. Winters were harsh, summers mild but comprised of dirt and plant.

While very few could read, Brum's father had some light education and taught him his letters. He proved to be an amazingly fast learner. At age 5 he could read almost as well as his father, but he continued to learn. By 6, he was devouring any books he could get, making sure to grab a new one every 2 months when his father turned in his skins to the market in one of the larger towns. He was particularly interested in history books, enamored. He found the illustrations of battle and the pains of war they spoke of to be interesting. He did not yet understand what suffering was. But soon, on one of these trips, Brum saw what would change his life forever.

On a cold day in winter, only 3 weeks after his 8th birthday, Brum, his father, his younger brother (4), and the eldest (14) went into the market to sell skins. The trapping had been good this year, as well as the harvest, so Brum's father was optimistic about his sales. He had promised Brum that today, he would buy him two brand new books, and this time he would let him buy a fantasy book. Brum's oldest brother had always made fun of him for his interest, chiding him incessantly for spending more time reading than working. While this had deterred him in the past from buying a fantasy novel, for fear of an especially harsh goading, he was determined to get one today.

The day itself went by as planned. Brum's father sold half of his skins in one day and decided to set up camp a little ways out of town, instead of riding back home after midday. Brum himself went with his older brother to fill the waterskins in the well in the town. However, on the way a little shop caught his eye: a stand with an old man sitting cross-legged out front, surrounded with stacks of novels. Most were dark at the edges and obviously passed around, but far in the back was one in a soft leather casing, with a beautiful etching on the front in a language Brum couldn't read. In that moment, he knew he had to have it. He followed his brother another block, then stepped into a side street and skipped around, going back to the shop. The old man obviously had very few customers, as most in these parts could not read, and as such he was fairly unattentive. Brum snuck behind in and snatched the book, then skittered away unnoticed. He then found a dark, dry spot in the alley with decent light, removed the red ribbon which held the book closed, then slowly opened it. To his dismay, however, the language was foreign and impossible for him to read. Even so, the illustrations inside fascinated him. The pictures were dark, showing off different battlefields and men being killed. This was a history book, although Brum knew it not, and it was showing some of the horrors of WWI. He flipped fast, seeing but not fully understanding. Why were there so many men lying on the ground? He had cut himself before, but he'd never seen so much blood in one place. Why were people hurting other people? He couldn't understand, but as two large men approached him from the other side of the alley, he was about to find out.

It didn't take long for him to lose the book. The two men had actually been boys, much older than him but ragged and dirty. They were beggars, and they smelled like rotten fish and mud. They kicked him in the head twice and he tried to run, but they caught him and put his face in the snow. They then kicked him in the side, breaking his ribs and sending him flying. He dropped the book and one of the boys picked it up, but they were not done with him yet. One of them took a piece of glass out of his pocket and approached Brum, smiling his evil, blank smile. And at that moment, as Brum faced death by a cruel, unfair fate, he looked into the cold, dead eyes and felt something inside of him break. And so it happened.

Brum grabbed a nearby metal can lying on the ground and threw it at the boy. The metal transformed into a sharp discus in his hand, and cut the boy's face in half from the mouth. The boy fell and bled on Brum, covering him in crimson. Then he stood and ripped a metal pipe from one of the walls near him, and as the other boy turned to run it extended and speared the boy through the stomach. Then Brum pulled it to the side and watched as his guts fell out and he writhed in the ice, trying to scoop them back inside and sobbing. But at this point, Brum was still not finished. Another figure appeared around the corner, a boy of the same age as the others. In no time, Brum jumped forwards and skewered the boy in the throat. And at the time, he also did not know that the third boy was his older brother.

When Brum woke up hours later, drenched in blood, he was in the middle of the town. His hands were ripped up and he was practically naked, and all around him there were metal beams and destruction. He had killed everyone in town. They were skewered, butchered; their blood covered the walls and streets. Some were hanging from the roofs, attached by massive metal bars they were run through their bodies. Most were just maimed, cut up in manners he wasn't sure of. It was a gruesome sight, but all the while the only thing he could think of was the book. The things he had seen in it. And in that moment, he found something. A bare spark of something, sure, but something that would shape the rest of his life.

After this, Brum was eventually captured by a German parahuman force in the invasion of Poland, after having lived as a beggar in various towns for many years. Those years shaped him and showed him the nature of the destitute, and the difference between poor and rich. He vows to change the world in the ways he sees fit, and will use most any means necessary.

Height: 6'5

Weight: 200lbs

Gear: Revolver, steel bar he carries on his back, "collared" green cape, gloves with a metal backing, iron-toe black boots, regular black pants, white shirt

Inventory: (5) Small iron balls
simple multi-tool(list tools included please)
balm for putting over cuts
.44 caliber rounds (16)
pocket watch(pure silver)


1: Striker: Ferrokinesis (limited to simple metal objects/things I'm familiar with, can also be used to shape my pistol and all of my gear, can magnetize bullets and other metals to my metal, however can't magnetize it to metals that aren't refined by me, which takes time)

2: Breaker: Refinement (can refine metal I am using to extremely dense material, making it very sturdy. Requires a lot of metal to compress. Also allows me to extract the metal from things, but that also takes an immense amount of time and causes mental fatigue)

Alignment: Chaotic Good; does not like fascist/communistic rule, likes freedom, wishes to lead people to their answers but also has no serious qualms over the methods to obtain his goals. Believes most people are of very little note, sides or agrees with very few. Hates the rich and powerful, but also hates the pitiful poor. Generally has not sympathy.


Strength 11
Dex 14
Constitution 10
Int 12
Wisdom 11
Char 12
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