character

Character Sheet: Dulane Truson
A Member of Freelance Villain

Dulane Truson
Designation: Villian
Played By: Ren
Kit: Senshi
Wins: 2
Fatalaties: 0
Losses: 4
Freelance Villain

Physical Attributes

Strength: Standard (25)
normal human strength

  • Strength Attack Damage: Standard

Agility: Superior (50)
This fighter can dodge, weave and move with the grace of an Olympic gymnast.

Body: Standard (25)
normal human endurance

  • Knocked Out by: 1 unprotected Standard level hit
    or several lesser attacks adding to same.

Mind: Standard (25)
normal human mental resources

Fight Record

1) "The Concerned Citizen" Loss
2) Gensou Win
3) Dr. Timothy Loss
4) The Princess of Monsters Loss
5) Tundra Win
6) Grandstand Loss


Background: “You’re Seryph Gibbons, aren’t you?” He was broken out of his reverie by a voice. It was soft and gentle, not the slightest bit raspy. It sounded comforting to a point. It did not make him jump in shock, nor did he turn around quick enough to make it seem he had. He just looked over his shoulder and turned on his heel to see the voice’s owner. Slender, long hair, a kind face, and hands tucked within the pockets of a light jacket. His gait was easy-going, and he had a soft smile to match. It was familiar to him, somehow. He nodded, not saying a word. “It must be a slow day. Haven’t seen as much as a purse-snatching. It’s been quiet lately.” “That it has.” It was then that this man began to show just the slightest bit of unease. “Uhm.... I’m sorry to ask this, but...” He reached into a satchel that was hidden under his coat. From it he pulled an 8x10 glossy and a pen. “...would you mind signing this?”

Character Personality
Seryph smiled for just a second. Fans were always a funny aspect of being a Sentinel.... He took the photo and the pen. “Not at all. Who should I sign it to?” “Nobody. Just put your name. That’s all.” That was just slightly uncommon. More often then not people requested their own names put in the autographs in some form or another. So he placed the photo against the glass wall he had been staring out of for the past several minutes, signed his name, and returned both pen and photo to the man. He asked a question as he gave both items back with one hand and outstretched the other for a handshake. “Who are you, anyway?” They both smiled ever so slightly. “Dulane Truson.” Something wrong. Seryph paused. He didn’t frown, didn’t raise his eyebrows in curiosity, just paused. “...Why does your name sound familiar?” It was Dulane’s turn to pause. “I believe you’ve heard of one of my family members. Durante.” It clicked. The Contortionist. “Yes. Him.” Long dead. Better off that way. “He’s not something I like to talk about, not after he killed our parents.” “You were his brother?” A nod, not sullen, gentle as it had been before, but just a slight bit wary. “He’s the family curse that no one likes to talk about. But I assure you that I’m not psychotic like him. Though I’m still considering asking Elwin for her signature. I don’t think I’ll get away alive if I do.” The pause was broken, a few chuckles traded. “It’s a hobby of mine, collecting autographs. I don’t sell them, I just like to keep them.” He was a sincere man, that much could be told. He looked to his watch. “Well, it looks like I’ve got an appointment to keep. Thank you, Mr. Gibbons. I hope the next evil you trounce will be an unthreatening one.” An odd well-wish, but accepted all the same. It was the unexpected things that brightened his day. He gave a brisk wave to Dulane as he walked off, and disappeared though the entrance of the building....

Powers and Abilities

Semi-Pacifist

He walked outside, into the light. His eyes adjusted too fast, so it burned his eyes just slightly. He shielded his eyes with his arm, and noticed six or so men clad in black striding slowly and evenly towards the building he’d just left. They didn’t look the least bit friendly, and they slowly began to surround him. Maybe Seryph was their intended target, and he was just practice. He didn’t mind. All six of them assumed various stances. One took out an unpleasant-looking knife. It bothered him not. He took his hands out of his pockets, loosened up his hands, and set to work with his gentle smile never leaving his face.


Power Within His Hands

  • Power: Mind Blast
  • Level: Superior
  • Kit Power Link: Senshi
So they fell upon him, lashing, striking, fists cutting the air with just as much power as a knife would. Dulane moved beautifully, narrowly avoiding each strike as if they had intended to miss, flowing from one to another as six men struck at him simultaneously. And then he began to lash back. He struck out at one, lightly tapping one of his attackers’ foreheads with the tips of his fingers. The reaction was instant, like he had been hit in the face with a punch that came backed with the force of a semi-truck. He crumpled backwards, falling onto the ground. He did not have to do as much as clench his fists. Dulane would just lay a hand upon their foreheads and they fell unconscious. They all fell in rapid succession after that.


Lack of Force

His smile had not wavered. Not once when six men stood around him and readied to kill him, not when he made them all fall one after the other, not when he was the last man standing. He checked his clothing, looking over himself quickly to see if he had been caught by the knife. There was only one slash, right above his knee. And those were one of his favorite pairs. Oh well. He searched the ground for the knife, quietly picked it off the ground after spotting it, and put it in his satchel along with the glossy. He needed compensation somehow. He carefully stepped over the bodies of the unconscious assailants, and gave a wave over his shoulder before putting his hands in his pockets again. Standing at the entrance of the building was Seryph, smiling just slightly.


Just a Kind Face

“You met Seryph?” “Mm-hm. Seems he’s got something for indoor greenery too.” It had been an hour since he left The Great Khazan Museum, home of the city’s largest enclosed forest. It was a beautiful place if you wandered about. “You lucky...! I can’t believe it! How much cuter is he in person?” Dulane grinned. “Now now, you know I don’t make those sort of judgments.” “Aw, you’re no fun.” Ellia sipped on her strawberry smoothie, Dulane sipped at his water. “I’m fun enough to have gotten a signature out of him. And I also knocked down some six guys who were probably after him.” Her eyes widened and her jaw slacked. Typical reaction. “With Seryph? You kicked ass back-to-back with Seryph Gibbons?! SPILL!” He blinked, shaking his head. “I was leaving and I think they decided to start with me first. I got them before they got me, and Seryph had nothing to do with it.” She frowned for just a second before coming up with another idea. “Does that mean you potentially saved his life?” “Maybe.” “C’mon, the modesty’s killing me.... You deserve a drink for that. It’s on me. Waiter, go get something for today’s hero!”


Daily Planning

Dulane waved to Ellia as she drove off. He lived in a modest two-story house on Rosedale Street, with well-kept bushes lining the front and a small garden right beside the front door. It was mostly aloe vera - good for healing and soothing wounds. It also made a good laxative, but he kept himself healthy and never needed to use it for that purpose anyway. He stepped through the front door, placing his jacket on the coat rack before shutting and locking it behind him. He stepped into his den very quickly, taking the Seryph glossy out of his satchel and quickly tacking it up with various others - Uberman, Supercomrade, GreyMalkin, amongst others. He grinned, noting that his SLJ collection was coming close to completion. Time to go about the day’s chores....


Various Implements

He went into his kitchen, took the knife out of his satchel, and placed in on a counter. Out of his satchel he also took a pair of clippers. He investigated the bonsai plants that populated his kitchen, numbers so many that they nearly gave the room and its counters and its furniture a distinctive green glow. After making a few decisions, he began to trim them, clipping here and there with meticulous and quick snips, the blades of the clippers flashing in and out of the green plants. It took a half-hour. He stepped back to investigate his work, and knew he had done a good job. He turned around, and opened one of the counter drawers to cast away the clippers. He closed that drawer as he picked up the knife again, opening another drawer filled with various cutting implements: knives, scalpels, cleavers, switchblades, bowie knives, and more. He took a few of the sharper out - two large scalpels, four of his bigger kitchen knives, and a pair of scissors. Those he placed into his satchel as he put the newly-collected knife into the drawer. After shutting it, he turned towards the door leading to his basement.


Genetic Traits

The first thing that greeted him when he opened the door were screams. A harsh, high-pitched shriek, followed by a lower yell, supposed to be a call for help but made incoherent by the parchedness of the throat that let it loose. He continued down the steps, flipping the light switch upon reaching the bottom. Light was cast upon the two he had strapped to his working tables; a young couple, probably just dating for the past few months. Or maybe they were high school sweethearts. That didn’t matter anyway. He just came upon them kissing in a park and that was that. The both of them were covered in thin gray sheets, underneath they wore nothing but their underwear. His voice intensified, cracking under the stress. Her voice shriveled, terror overpowering her and making her break down into tears. He paid heed to neither. He placed the bag on the girl’s stomach, kneeled down, unhooking the latches that held her table firmly in the ground. He had almost killed the boy yesterday, so it wouldn’t be wise to start on him again. He stood up again as the girl began to beg and plead incoherently. He ignored her, grabbing the head of the table and wheeling it into a different room. It was a simple push-open door, and he locked it as it shut behind him.


Vivisection

It was a plain room - one fluorescent light that looked as if it would burn out soon, gray walls, and four latches on the floor that matched the table’s legs. He locked the table into position, placed the bag next to her head, and cast the sheet off of the girl strapped to it. Underneath her body was marked with a rainbow of incisions, infinitely many slashes various in length, depth, and shape. Sometimes he just slit open the skin. Other times he cut pieces off. The more recent ones were covered in crimson gauze - didn’t want her to bleed too excessively. He looked down at her body, considering where he would get the most blood flow without incurring anything fatal. After carefully planning what to do, he opened the bag and began his meticulous work. Slice here, carve there, he worked slowly, ignoring the tired howling screams of his victim. They were unearthly, ear-piercing, and unmitigatedly miserable. Her blood ran into grooves on the table, and dripped into two buckets placed on either side. Dulane didn’t care for the screaming. Though it hurt his ears, he continued to smile gently, never flinching. He began to think about his meeting with Seryph earlier, about how he had worded his sentence so he wouldn’t lie to him. He didn’t like lying to anybody. He wasn’t psychotic like Durante, after all. He was completely different.