| May 26, 2012 14:44:26 GMT -5 |
Post by antonio on May 26, 2012 14:44:26 GMT -5
Antonio ”Spain” Fernandez-Carriedo
Viva España!
Viva España!
I Feel Like We're Summoning The Devil
Nickname/Alias : Tony
Gender: Male
Character Type: Country
Country or Country of Origin : Spain
Canon or Original: Canon
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When I look into all of your stupid faces
I think how fun it will be to pound them into dust
Hair: Brown
Height and Weight: 5’8, about 145 Pounds
Other Distinguishing Features: Several scars on his back and legs, from years and years of war. Also, he almost always wears a smile, despite all that has happened to him.
Overall Appearance: In all, he seems very happy and relaxed. He tends to wear a khaki military uniform with a black bandana around his neck and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair is typically messy, and extends to about his neck. Often has a bottle of wine in his satchel, it’s rare to see him without it. His hair is curly, and he has light olive skin tone.
It should also be noted that he does have several nicer clothes, but he rarely wears them. Also, whenever there's a festival, he likes to wear his matador outfit. Under his shirt, however, he has several large scars on his back and stomach, from many, many fights. Still, all in all he appears aloof, like he isn't truly concerned with other nations' problems.
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Man up or I'll beat you with my peace prize!
Dislikes: Big cities, working, bankers, northern european food, and has a really intense Love-Hate relationship with the Catholic Church. He also greatly fears going broke again,
Strengths: Passionate, energetic, and empathetic.
Weaknesses: Poor, gives up easily, a bit of a kleptomaniac, small children, family (whenever one of his former colonies asks for something, he always tries to help even when he doesn't want to).
Fears: Having to come to terms with his past, going to war again, and muslims.
Secrets: Still feels sorry for everything he's done in the past, but hides it with a smile.
Any Quirks/Habits: Very proud, passionate, and fun-loving, his seemingly aloof attitude is actually more of a defense mechanism. He loves to cook, especially for his children.
Overall Personality: Spain, if one were to take a quick glance at him, would view him as a very happy person. He always wears a smile on his face, and seems to be in a cheery mood. Firey and passionate, he's a whole-hearted lover. He is also very optimistic and believes everything will pan out and be ok in the end. Proud of himself, his greatest pride is his sun-soaked land. He also has a special fondness for children, and once had many in his home. He tends to also be aloof and insensitive with his jokes, but this comes from the fact that he often wondered whether or not he was even part of Europe. He tends to have a bit of trouble also focusing on one thing, and gets distracted very, very easily. Also, he isn't much of a fighter, only rarely getting involved in fights. When he does, one of two things happen. One, he quits relatively quickly, as he may view no possible way for victory or benefit from continued fighting. Other times, he fights to the bitter end. This is usually when honor, or his own livelihood, is at stake.
He does, however, have an intense dark side, that usually shows when he's drunk. His past has been dark, and he has yet to even comes to terms with it. Mostly, he just denies and hides it. He is also a man of contradictions. While he loves the Church, he hates its priests. While he wears a cross around his neck, he's not sure whether he believes in God. When drunk, he can also be very, very scary. Just ask Cuba or any other of his former colonies. Or for that matter, ask Madrid what he did to her city during his horrible 3 year binge during the 1930's. Finally, he still does not trust muslims, despite having lived several hundred years with them. (OOC: No, seriously, nearly every Spaniard I met while studying abroad did not like muslims. I'm sorry if this is offensive to anyone, just trying to portray the Spain I know.)
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I'm the hero!
The history of Spain is as old as time itself. His story begins with Greece and Carthage, nations who taught him how to read and write, and made him long ago fight against Rome, respectively. Later, as a part of the Roman Empire, he flourished, and he developed a deep love for farming and wine, which he produced a lot of for Rome. Later, when the empire fell, he was conquered by the Visigoths, who proceeded to trash the house. Then came the Umayyad Caliphate, which invaded and controlled the southern part of his house for 600 years. Finally, in 1492, he took back his home, and began to expand.
For hundreds of years, he was the most powerful nation in the world. He had many children, and was wealthy beyond belief. He got into a few scuffles with England and the Netherlands for control, and became close friends with France. He also fought to gain the favor of Italy and Sicily, and all seemed well. However, much of the wealth was squandered, and over time his colonial children began to ask for independence. On top of this, Spain lost his great fleet against England, throwing him into a depression that took him a very long time to get out of.
In the early 1800's, he and France got into a horrible argument, and for a long time afterwards did not speak to each other. He never forgave England for taking Gibraltar away from him, and he and Portugal continually bickered. By the early 1900's, all of his children had revolted, some with American help, and he was locked in a bitter war with Morocco. Within his own house, the fighting and bickering between himself, Catalonia, Gallicia, Vasco, and all his other siblings began to come to a head, finally exploding in 1936.
In 1936, tired of how his brothers and sisters were running the house, he and his army revolted, causing a brutal 3 year war that destroyed much of their home. He, however, finally won, though not without the cost of much of his own soul. Still, years later, he has yet to truly come to terms with this, and tries to enjoy his family as much as he can, in the hopes that if he pretends he's happy long enough, he will be.
Nations he fought:
Rome: Ancient history, conquered and annexed.
Visigoths: roughly 400 ad, conquered.
Ummayyad Caliphate: c. 800'-1492 ad
Native Americans (numerous tribes): 1492-1600's (fully subjugated)
Netherlands: numerous engagements
Turks: Numerous engagements
France: Mainly during Napoleonic wars.
Great Britain: Numerous engagements
America: Spanish-American war, 1898.
Every Latin American country: 1800's
Philipenes: ended 1898.
Morrocco: Early 1900's
Civil War: Fought Madrid, Catalonia, Barcelona, Vasco, Pamplona, International Brigades, and several other cities with the aid of Germany, Italy, Moroccan Mercenaries, Seville, Grenada, Gallicia, and several others.
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You've got it backwards! Backwards!
Hurry up and throw it! If you don't hurry up and throw it, you'll go "boom"!
show us what you can do
(This is from another site. Hope you like it)
Lt. Hasty hoped Captain Richards knew what the hell he was doing. Hasty sat hidden on the bluffs approaching Westcliffe opposite of the port by the bridge with 20 men, all hidden and with their rifles trained on the bridge in front of them. Hasty stared at his pocket watch. 3:59 am. In one minute, he was to fire the flare to distract their guards. 50 seconds. He looked over to the men on his left and right. They all nodded and gave their commander the thumbs up. They all knew the stakes. They all knew they were outnumbered. But this was their home turf. These woods had been the place that many of them as young boys had played in. They'd be damned before it remained in the hands of these bandits. 20 seconds. Time was almost here. He readied the flare gun and pointed it towards the sky. 10 seconds. The men all cocked their rifles. Some of the men were fortunate, and had steel turret rifles. Those would be needed very soon, as only Avo knew how many bandits might charge this way. 3... 2... 1...
The red flare flew up into the early morning sky, lighting it like a comet up into the air. Captain Richards grinned, and looked back at his 19 men, including his first sergeant. They nodded to each other, and climbed up to the top of the hill near what had been the small dweller camp that had developed in front of the old gates of Westcliffe. They had marched all night, down through the bottom of the cliffs and back up again, but they made it just in the nick of time. Looking at the campfires from behind the tree, his grin widened as the majority of the bandits turned away from the woods he and his party were hiding in and looked at the bright shiny object flying in the sky. At his signal, he and his men all lit their handheld grenades and chucked them into the camp. They exploded in a horrendous racket, fragmentation spraying all over the camp ripping up tents, boxes, and bandits alike. Captain Richards than drew his sword and his clockwork pistol, turned and shouted to his men.
"Follow me lads! Once more!"
"Strength and Honour!" The men replied loudly, as they moved forward into the camp, howling like madmen and and running towards the confused bandits, moving up in bounds in teams of four, each group discharging their weapons before the next advanced. Before long, the rangers and the bandits were engaging in hand to hand combat.
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I Summon thee from far away lands, come forth!
You called?
Timezone: Eastern (USA)
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