Name: Lindorm
Gender: Masculine
Function: Weapons specialist, amateur demolitions and tactician
Faction: Survivor
Motto: If there were no risks in the battles, then there would be no glory in victory!
Type: Standard
Physical Discription:
Beast Mode: Giant black mamba.
Robot Mode: Lindorm is very tall, tall enough to tower over most Predacons although he is deceptively willowy in appearance. He is generally dark gray in color due to scaly beast-mode kibble, with green-brown camouflage here and there, especially prominent on his face. Also exceedingly prominent about his face is the fact that its very angular in appearance; thin, hooked, beak-like nose, high crisp cheek ridges, narrow, red, slit-like optics and a constant scowl to match. Other than that, hes relatively streamlined in appearance, his beast mode pieces neatly smoothing over any pieces of armor that mightve otherwise seem jagged and out of place, going all the way down his back before going onto becoming a long whip-like tail.
Abilities: Other than the fact that hes an agile fragger? Hes good with weapons. Any weapons. Drop a rifle with a twisted barrel on his lap and hell see if he can make it kill someone. Put shards of a shattered sword before him and hell stuff it in some kind of bomb and watch it shred a hapless soul. Crude but effective homemade weapons are his specialty.
Weapons: A big rifle, a chainsaw sword and anything that he makes/gets his hands on.
Personality: One could call Lindorm a knight, although one wouldnt dare say he had a shining armor. If hed been a knight, his armor wouldve been more swart then the starless skies. He even often speaks in Old English, although its mostly just to confuse his comrades in the moments when he feels like being annoyingly cryptic. He doesnt care about honor nor chivalry, although hopeless one-on-one battles seem perfectly alright to him should he be pulled into such a fury. When he isnt being a furious serpent though, hes fine trying to find out the quickest ways to obliterate any enemies in his or his path in the most merciless and ruthless of manners.
Most of the time however, Lindorm is a hunter. Not of beasts, but of monsters who were once beings. He seems oddly happy about being stuck on Alloyon for some reason, and even more so after his confrontations with the monsters that lurk the night. Its as if he belonged here.
History: Surprisingly enough, Lindorm started out as a strapping young Maximal. His life started out relatively normal; education, neat apartment, and a shiny Good Civilian badge all round. Tidy, lovely, boring life. He didnt even know of the wars that transpired between the Autobots and the Maximals a mere few centuries ago, living in the bubble of a world that so many would call a utopia. Until he stumbled into an underground (literally) gangs meeting. The next years of his life, he lived this strange two-way life, stuck somewhere between the picture-perfect Maximal world and its darker side that lurked under the pristine Cybertropolis glitter and grandeur. Even after he finished his education he didnt dare to fully indulge in the rough world he wished so much to be part of, preferring to be the financial aid that gangs need to fuel the flames of anarchy.
People say that one should careful about what they wish for. Lindorm would behead them and laugh over their twitching corpses.
He was assigned to an exploration to a mysterious planet, staying a stasis pod until the ship crash landed on the world. He awoke a few days later to find himself face to face to the familiar and yet twisted face of one of the crewmates hed greeted before boarding the exploration shuttle.
Gender: Masculine
Function: Weapons specialist, amateur demolitions and tactician
Faction: Survivor
Motto: If there were no risks in the battles, then there would be no glory in victory!
Type: Standard
Physical Discription:
Beast Mode: Giant black mamba.
Robot Mode: Lindorm is very tall, tall enough to tower over most Predacons although he is deceptively willowy in appearance. He is generally dark gray in color due to scaly beast-mode kibble, with green-brown camouflage here and there, especially prominent on his face. Also exceedingly prominent about his face is the fact that its very angular in appearance; thin, hooked, beak-like nose, high crisp cheek ridges, narrow, red, slit-like optics and a constant scowl to match. Other than that, hes relatively streamlined in appearance, his beast mode pieces neatly smoothing over any pieces of armor that mightve otherwise seem jagged and out of place, going all the way down his back before going onto becoming a long whip-like tail.
Abilities: Other than the fact that hes an agile fragger? Hes good with weapons. Any weapons. Drop a rifle with a twisted barrel on his lap and hell see if he can make it kill someone. Put shards of a shattered sword before him and hell stuff it in some kind of bomb and watch it shred a hapless soul. Crude but effective homemade weapons are his specialty.
Weapons: A big rifle, a chainsaw sword and anything that he makes/gets his hands on.
Personality: One could call Lindorm a knight, although one wouldnt dare say he had a shining armor. If hed been a knight, his armor wouldve been more swart then the starless skies. He even often speaks in Old English, although its mostly just to confuse his comrades in the moments when he feels like being annoyingly cryptic. He doesnt care about honor nor chivalry, although hopeless one-on-one battles seem perfectly alright to him should he be pulled into such a fury. When he isnt being a furious serpent though, hes fine trying to find out the quickest ways to obliterate any enemies in his or his path in the most merciless and ruthless of manners.
Most of the time however, Lindorm is a hunter. Not of beasts, but of monsters who were once beings. He seems oddly happy about being stuck on Alloyon for some reason, and even more so after his confrontations with the monsters that lurk the night. Its as if he belonged here.
History: Surprisingly enough, Lindorm started out as a strapping young Maximal. His life started out relatively normal; education, neat apartment, and a shiny Good Civilian badge all round. Tidy, lovely, boring life. He didnt even know of the wars that transpired between the Autobots and the Maximals a mere few centuries ago, living in the bubble of a world that so many would call a utopia. Until he stumbled into an underground (literally) gangs meeting. The next years of his life, he lived this strange two-way life, stuck somewhere between the picture-perfect Maximal world and its darker side that lurked under the pristine Cybertropolis glitter and grandeur. Even after he finished his education he didnt dare to fully indulge in the rough world he wished so much to be part of, preferring to be the financial aid that gangs need to fuel the flames of anarchy.
People say that one should careful about what they wish for. Lindorm would behead them and laugh over their twitching corpses.
He was assigned to an exploration to a mysterious planet, staying a stasis pod until the ship crash landed on the world. He awoke a few days later to find himself face to face to the familiar and yet twisted face of one of the crewmates hed greeted before boarding the exploration shuttle.
