ENILO JORDAN - QUATRO ESPADA

NAME: ENILO CROSS
ALIAS: CALM
AGE: 578
ALLIANCE: EL RENACIMIENTO
DIFFICULTY: HARD

APPEARANCE:

PERSONALITY:

HISTORY:

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Born on the cusp of freedom and debauchery, people would find a surprisingly stand up guy within the persona of Enilo Cross. A man of a moral code, even if he still chose to do whatever brought pleasure to him. While times required him to stand on others, at least he stood for something. Oh it was a pirate's life for him.

The burden of care for the boy was shared by his mother and the local pirate crew. His father was previously enlisted in their ranks, before his untimely demise. A valued first mate amongst a crew of rabblerousers with no notions of fear, it was a given that they would take kindly to his widowed wife and growing son.




As he became of age the life of a pirate became imparted into his very being, the methods, the vernacular, the feel of the sea, he soaked it all up. To the dismay of his mother, while never spoken, she didn't want her son to be absorbed by the same sea that took her husband. Though with all her qualms against the treacherous seas, she knew that she couldn't stop her son, she couldn't stop her husband's legacy.

With time his role among the crew grew, along with his aptitude. Stealing, pillaging, killing, it was all a part of the job, though he accepted it. While he knew of the errors in their ways, survival was of a much higher concern to the growing pirate. His mother still saw him differently than most though, she still saw a young, promising man underneath the dirt and filth that he had committed. Her favorable opinion of him the only thing from making him fall into the cruel folly of pirate ways, Enilo was always an honorable man, as honorable as you can be for a pirate that is.



Disconnected. What, where, how? So many questions for the black swell of the unknown that grasped his mind. Death was the only answer he knew. Only a few context clues to accompany that fact. His appearance, still youthful, yet scarred, so scarred, his death obviously occurred during his younger years. Unfortunately much time had passed since his younger years, the fate of his friends, of his mother only leading to one certainty, death. Though even with the knowledge of all that he cared about no longer drawing breath, the want, the desire to know still remains ever present.

His lack of memory was replaced by a pair of things from a completely unknown origin, the Godking and this hulking mass that seemed to grip his face with a dependent desire. A poor imitation for the captain that he once followed, that he once believed in. Though his qualms could not be voiced as he wished, stupidity was never a strong suit of his and there was obviously something special about this being, something powerful. The frustration held in from being placed under the command of something he didn't even understand drove him to break down the only thing the next closest thing. Claws constantly ripping, tearing at this false face that was placed upon him, torn off with a sense of victory. Freedom.[/ul][/div][/blockquote][/blockquote]