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[attr="class","leaguecardsliptext1"]Name:

[attr="class","leaguecardsliptext2"]Pronouns:

[attr="class","leaguecardsliptext3"]Specialty:

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Jack Magnus discovered two things in his life.

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The first one being that people listen to money, and money talks louder than most people in the room.

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The second one being that beating the shit out of people was the quickest way to make money.

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Jack Magnus grew up in a shit household with a very disgusting father figure and a mother who didn't give a shit about him. It didn't take long before Jack took matters into his own hands, going to juvenile hall until he was eighteen years old. His parents' tombstones sit somewhere in Unova, not that he'd ever give a shit about them. He did bloody his fists on them.

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You might think this was a good thing for him. Maybe juvie cleared his head? No. Inside, even so young, he took command at the early age of thirteen, made connections with people on the inside, and practically turned this whole joint into his bitch. If he wanted something, he learned all he had to do was take it. He quickly began to be known as the Hell Hound on the inside; a title he took on for himself and embodies even now. He wanted an inmate's milk, he broke their nose. Someone talked back to him ever, he threw a fork in their hand. He wanted an inmate dead, well, he wouldn't do it himself. But he'd make sure they wanted to be.

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He's seen the inside of a solitary confinement cell more days than he can remember and came out fine, just taking the time to plan. One fact about the Hell Hound Magnus was this; he was a ruthless intellectual. He studied, gained smarts in classes, and took to economics quickly, as well as business. If he had ever gone to college, he'd have done a great job as a business major. But he didn't. And he doesn't need it.

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When he was released from juvie at eighteen, he learned effectively nothing from his time in that would make him a decent person, immediately taking it upon himself to create a circle, a gang of bad individuals, usually criminals, to work for him. If he liked you, congratulations, you're in the gang he named 'ORTHRUS'. If you didn't like it well.

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Congratulations. You're in ORTHRUS anyways. And he'll make sure you want to be in it. He doesn't need to stoop to idle threats. He has money, you want money? Bam, you got a job. You want to grow strong? You got it, let him find you a Pokemon. You want to beat the shit out of those loser Rockets? You got it, homie, he'll make a spot for you and give you his jackets.

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Now, Rocket. That's a fun organization. A train wreck organization, and one he doesn't need. In fact, he offers his services of his men to the League if they need it to beat the shit out of some puny, spineless Rocket bitches. No chivalry, you need some Rockets rumbled, hire them. They'll assist, so long as they provide protection to ORTHRUS. Oh but if Rocket pays him more? Sure, why the hell not?

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Doesn't need to go further into that really.

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Where did he get his Houndooms? Believe it or not, he has a soft spot for dogs. Both Houndooms he got as Houndours upon release from juvie, and he never lets them get into the thick of it. Ever. One named Coco, the other named Latte. Those are his hounds. He's hardly seen without them.

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So. You want to join ORTHRUS?

[attr="class","leaguecardbignumber"]777

[attr="class","leaguecardbigname"]Magnus