Name: Quinton Cole (though he normally just goes by Cole, since his first name is not all that… intimidating.)

Gender: Male

Age: 46

Occupation: Former Soldier in the guild of Defense, current outcast.


Physical Appearance:
This man was made of stone. Or at least that’s what most would say when the imposing form of Quinton Cole stood over them. Standing at about 6’3” and weighing in at a hefty 215 some odd pounds Quinton was not a small man. His body was covered with over developed, well defined muscles. Every movement he made seemed to have a purpose, as If his limbs moved by clockwork located deep under his skin, slowly driving his muscles to make the necessary movements. He isn’t exceptionally quick, but the strength that is visible in every one of his movements is apparent to anyone who is watching.

Sitting upon the nest of muscles that make his shoulders and neck is a head that looks as if it was carved. The angular features of his face and the large crooked nose add a sense of something no human to the way he appears, as if something isn’t exactly quite right. His crew cut hair, which was once jet black is now well on its way to fading in color, with several grey streaks becoming more apparent with each year. Though he shaves every day, Quinton always seems to have a shadow of stubble on his face.

Stuck in his last set of clothing, Quinton wears a large, black pair of cargo pants, and a tight grey t-shirt that accents the muscles in his arms and chest. Over top as a form of protection from the elements he wears an old black leather duster, with the sleeves cut off to give him a bit looser movement of his arms. Completing his outfit is the pair of black work boots given to him upon his entry as a soldier in the guild of defense, and an old pair of goggles he keeps over his forehead in case the dust starts to kick up.

Personality:

Quinton is a bit too nice for his own good. It got him into the whole exile mess in the first place. And will certainly get him into a bit of trouble in the underworld. He tends to stand up for the little guy, Not letting people walk all over those who are defenseless. He lives on this fact as almost a personal creed. It serves as law to him, and if he is needed he will help out whoever he can, as long as its in an acceptable range of danger. Which things usually are.

Since his banishment he has been skeptical of authority figures. Not trusting anyone who likes to give orders, and instead working around them or having no dealings with them at all. If Quinton is required to work with that sort of person he prefers to keep it a purely business relation and never opens up too much.

Strengths/Good Qualities:

With a body made of intertwined muscles holding together powerful limbs and holding back a raw, untamable power, Quinton could be described as strong. But that would be a bit of an understatement. Quinton Cole is Loaded. His bulk allows him to move objects far larger and heavier than most would think possible from an ordinary human, though he does it a bit slowly. In fact, all of his motions are done slowly, but each seems to have a purpose, and his movements don’t extend any extra energy. Hulking would be a very accurate word in describing Quinton’s movement.

This man knows his way around firearms. Growing up in the defense guild spires and training to be a soldier at that gave Quinton a talent at which he excelled in. His specialty is in small arms, especially the two pistols that have been passed down within his family for generations.

Quinton believes in the importance of doing the right thing. It may not always be easy, and hell, it usually is the hardest thing to do. But he will stand up for the little guy to whatever extent possible.

Weaknesses/Bad Qualities:

Quinton has a bit of a smoking problem. A few packs of black rubies can normally be found in the many folds of his coats, with a cig normally resting in that little spot about his ear. He normally has a few cigars on him, or at least when he can get a hold on them. They will probably kill him in time, and he is already starting to feel the effects on his body.

Some people just have a knack for getting in danger. Quinton has a knack for upsetting the wrong people in his personal vendetta to help out the little guys.

Outcast from the guild spire for a crime he didn’t commit. And that he can’t remember committing, Quinton is left in the underworld with too many questions to ever function normally. Instead he has to push forward, trying to make his life something from what he lost. The lost memories from his exile have lead to many questions of his life. Quinton doesn’t understand much of what lead to his exile, with his last memory being of a meeting with the guild sovereign Felix Garbone. What he doesn’t know is that he was exiled for a crime he didn’t commit, and he left a wife and son behind who he has no memory of.

Character History:

Quinton had a fairly normal upbringing. His parents raised him to be honest and caring, and despite his father’s foul mouth he grew up a relatively decent boy. As a child he was a quiet kid. He could have easily been a bully just because of his size and strength, but he never used that too his advantage.

As a teen he did all the normal things a member of the defense guild would. He attended school, began to learn the duties of the guild, started to train with weapons, and even began working towards his final placement in the guild.

Quinton wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps, as a soldier in the guild. A man who would command respect on his patrols, and who the citizenry knew was there to protect them.

When his father passed away he passed down what was t he families heirloom. A pair of pistols, well, more really hand cannons, named Gabriel and Amon. These 6 shooters were powerful and in their own right, pieces of art. Since his employment as a soldier in the defense guild they hardly leave the holsters at his sides.

Quinton started to get himself into a bit of trouble in his early 20s. It wasn’t that he did anything particularly illegal, just that he questioned the authority of the guild sovereign.
Quinton rose quickly through the ranks of the guild, impressing his captains and inspiring his peers. It wasn’t a surprise to most that worked with him when he was promoted to captain of the Civil Enforcement Division.

He enjoyed his work and felt as if he had a sense of purpose. However, the job was not as glamorous as he first thought it would be. Instead of the respect of the citizens he was treated with a sense of ill will. As if he were a member of the guild sovereign’s elite lap dog squad.

Instead of high profile protection details, he was often sent meandering around the spires rounding up dissidents and taking them off to be exiled. It wasn’t his job to question why these people were being exiled, just to take them to have their memories wiped and send them on their way to the underworld.

Well, this didn’t agree with Quinton, and he began giving people tips on how to avoid exile. He was trying to help those who he felt didn’t deserve the punishments being handed down randomly. Some of these people were being banished for things they didn’t even do. Knowing this, Quinton felt as if someone had to act on their behalf.

Sadly, the guild sovereign knew almost as soon as he had started. But it was a political boost. The citizenry was content knowing a soldier was looking out for the common man. Felix Garbone knew his best move at the moment was to leave Quinton be.

In that time Quinton grew substantially. He met his wife, and they had to children, a daughter first, and then a son. His daughter excelled in school as the years went on, and his grew up wanting to be like his father, and grandfather before him.

However, no one in his family knew of the laws he had broken to protect so many citizens with in the spires. And in time, Felix Garbone recognized it as the problem it really was.

The day had started like any other, Quinton had woken up, got ready for his patrol, and even said goodbye to his two children. Unexpectedly however, he was called to meet with the guild sovereign. The Guild Sovereign had found out that one of the “exiles” Quinton had saved from his fate had actually started to amass a following of people, and was going to make an attack on the sovereign himself. Felix couldn’t have this, and decided that quelling the uprising would be his second task, after dealing with the one who let it all happen in the first place.

It wasn’t until he was sitting in the office of the guild sovereign that Quinton understood what was about to take place. The guild sovereign sat in the chair behind his oversized desk with a malicious grin, Quinton had gone behind his back for the last time.

Felix had Quinton restrained, and he was taken to have his memory partially wiped before being sent to the underworld.

Quintons personal effects were taken from him, and he was forced into the same linen garb that every exile is forced into, enough clothes to get by, but nothing of distinction. In fact the outfit served as a means to mark those who had been exiled as they entered the underworld.

Felix However wasn’t about to let one of his (mostly) respected captains into the waste unarmed. Instead, his personal effects were stashed in a box with signed orders telling the border gang to return his equipment pending the gangs successful “welcome” to the underworld.

He lost the memories of his family, of his affiliation with the guild, his duties, and his actions that lead to his exile.

In fact, the only thing he was left knowing he had been raised in the spire. Something had to have gone wrong, but he was not sure what that could have been. His memories of his time there suggested everything was right and was going well.

Dropped into the underworld he has to make a new life for himself.


Belongings:

Gabriel & Amon – Family heirlooms in their own right. The two 6 shooter hand cannons are identical in looks, and represent Quinton’s last connection to the guild spire, and to his past. They are reliable and accurate, and Quinton would do anything to protect these weapons and ensure they stay with him. Due to the means of his exile, he was left with only about 20 or so rounds in all for his two guns.



Writing Sample:It took his eyes a couple of minutes to adjust to the low level of light in the gloaming quarters. He stumbled out of the portal like a child, afraid and unaware of his circumstances. His hearing was slowly returning as the world around him came back into vision. Several members of the border gang were shouting at him to get up.

Quinton had hardly even realized that he had fallen as he stumbled out of the portal. He slowly got to his feet, and that’s when the world around him became quiet. The gang had just realized the scale of the man that had been pushed down in front of them. But that wasn’t going to stop them from giving him a warm welcome, just like every exile that is sent down to their territory.

"Hands up you!" one of them shouted towards Quinton.

shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Quinton slowly raised his hands into the air. There was only one word he could use to describe how he felt at the moment.

"Shit."

Several members of the border gang approached him with weapons out, and pushed him back onto his knees. Quinton was cuffed and pushed fully to the ground before the apparent leader of the troop slowly walked towards him.

With his face pressed against the ground, Quinton only saw the large boot step down in front of his face right before he felt the other press his head firmly into the ground.

“Just another sorry excuse for life being forced down our way.” The so called head of the gang put a bit of emphasis on the word force, and made sure to step a little harder on Quinton’s head to make sure his power was fully presented.

Other members of the gang slowly circled around Quinton as he lay in the dirt. They began asking him questions about why he was banished. Not to find out, but to ensure he didnt know and that the memory wipe held.
Several lackeys lifted him up and moved him to a cell located a little ways across the compound. Forced into the small cell and still cuffed he was left there in solitude for what seemed like days, but with the lack of light who could really tell how much time had actually passed.

Occasionally the gang would come to torment him. Picking him up just to shove him back into the ground. Verbally abuse him and references this in his life that he wasn’t sure of their truth.

Days past without as much of a sigh of things lightening up. Life in the underworld was harsh, but Quinton would fight through it.

The guards would often refer to him as the prisoner with “spirit.” He always seemed to be able to give a new guard a bloody nose each time they would open his cell door. The fight never seemed to leave him. It was this fact that started to interest the gang rep from the righteous assholes.

Eventually Quinton was able to hear voices outside of his cell. The large metal door swung open as a man in a mismatched suit stood framed in the door.

“This one shows promise.” The man said as he pointed down towards the wreck on the floor. “Get him his belongings, keep him cuffed and let’s move him to next way point”

He was dressed and forced in the back of a transport carriage riding to a location that he did not fully grasp. Sitting across from him was a guard, who was a bit too relaxed for the position he was in.

A lack of thought on the guard’s part had made Quinton’s escape far easier than it should have been. Quinton could see a box with his belongings in it resting right next to the guard, with his two hand cannons gleaming on top of his pile of clothes. He had his hands cuffed in front of his body which made getting the keys from the guard easy. At least, it was easy once he had taken the guard out with a fairly powerful head butt.

He grabbed the keys with a bit of fumbling and was able to at least free one of his hands before the driver noticed anything. But by that time Quinton had reached into the box of his belongings and was holding Gabriel towards the back of the drivers head.

“it would be in your best interest to step out of the vehicle” he said as he waved the gun towards the door of the transport.

As the guard stepped out of the transport Quinton made his way to relieve both guards of their weapons, throwing them just off the side of the road. He may be breaking free but he wasn’t going to leave them without a chance. He hoisted the unconscious guard out and onto the road and climbed into the driver’s seat.

Ahead of him was a makeshift sign with an arrow pointing forward. The large type across it said “Sanguian” The long road in front of him seemed to never end as he thought of the only phrase he could use to describe his present situation.

"Wow... This sucks"