Jordanis Irdolow

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The approachable, but still Insidious, Admiral

Jordanis Irdolow (Male, Aurinus Superiorus Sapiens (Penterian), 173 cm, 90 kg)

Characteristic Quote: "Beware the paper bag to Heck, for many of these together form an effective handbasket.”

Alignment: Neutral Good. Oh wait, FLEET


Strengths:
Physically speaking, he is nothing more than mortal, except for the cybernetic replacements of his right arm, both eyes, and left foot. They arm and foot are rather obvious replacements, having a highly resiliant silvery outer shell.

The most dangerous of his assets is the Penterian Fleet. Some of the designs for the ships can be found on jordanis.net. His ships range in size and power from the twelve-meter fighter to the eight-kilometer mobile starbase. He keeps on-station at the Funky Horror a Supercarrier detatchment comprising his flagship, the PFS Kaboodle, and a screen of battlecruiser and smaller escorts, as well as several more carriers. For this reason, he is the head of FLEET fighter operations.

Weaknesses: When it all comes down to it, he is physically nothing more than a 90-kg bipedal talking dog with a few metal replacements. Though he has teeth and blunt claws, that's obviously not much of a defense against a modern weapon, if he can be caught without any other weaponry.

Weaponry: There is a fold-out DE-gun in his cybernetic right arm, and his eyes each have a holdout one-shot DE-gun. Two small grenades are secreted in the heel of his cybernetic foot, as well.

Equipment: Irdolow tends towards his dress uniform while on duty—a somewhat ostentatious array of black fabric and gold braid. His preferred choice of headwear is a good, old-fashioned bicorne in the Royal Navy style. His arm has a few extra functions packed in, and his eyes can be adjusted for zoom, light intensity, and spectrum.

Personal Installations: First, the PFS Kaboodle, an 1800-meter supercarrier with factory facilities and the capability to operate several thousand fighters for extended periods. He keeps his native force fairly tightly under his own control, paranoidly planning for the day when that will be necessary.

Also, his Den. The Den is more of what we would call a mountaintop fortress than a humble burrow. It has a neutronium/chorozite shell around three levels of living and working space. Below, deeper in the mountain, there are command facilities, mines, labs, hangars, and manufacturing plants. Of largest note is the cybernetics research facility, which produced all of his prosthetics.

Pet Peeves: Idiots. He does not suffer fools readily. When someone's skull seems too thick for them to pick up anything, he has a tendancy to resort to metaphorical overwhelming force to get it through.

Quirks: Dispite his large amounts of power, he rarely uses it, preferring to avoid obnoxious diplays. He also makes an excellent lap-jackal... for the right people, at least.

Description: He has a good tactical mind, and a decent strategic one to match. He is not, however, very brash or outspoken. Quiet would be the best word, until he is among only those who he knows well (at which point he can talk your ear off). He often prefers to sit back and observe a conversation, very occasionally adding something he feels would be particularly useful. In this way, he has gained a small reputation for wiseness.

He has a dry sense of humor and an extensive knowlege of human psychology. Those two things combined sometimes result in him being called... "very droll". He is very fond of several expressions in the vein of "Bloody 'ell" and has been known to let slip the more than occasional "Erf".

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