[b]Character Name:[/b] Asrial Olarin

[b]Age:[/b] 27

[b]Race:[/b] Aranok

[b]Homeworld:[/b] [hider=Octanus 5]
[center] The fifth planet of the trinary Seti Vor Octanus system, Octanus 5 orbits the smallest sun of the system (from which it also derives its name). A large planet, Octanus 5 is characterized by two things, it's massive differences in climate (with a massive desert ringing the planet at the equator, and both northern and southern hemispheres being completely covered in dense rain-forests of mega flora, broken only by the occasional massive lake), and the undisputed fact that everything that lives and breathes on the surface of the world wants to kill you. From the smallest insect to the larges beast, even the trees of the forests themselves, are adapted to rip one another apart and feast on whatever remains. It is mainly this fact that makes it a surprise to people when it is revealed that a colony exists on its surface. 

The relatively small colony of Morrisburg sits on the border of the northern rain forest and the great desert, and is home to only a few thousand, though it may seem like much less as most of it's inhabitants lead a nomadic style of existence and only return to Morrisburg to get new supplies and check up on things. Now on paper both the planet and the colony are a now de-funded "joint science initiative to look into the effects of an ultra hostile environment on the development of life", but as they say truth is always stranger than fiction and for Octanus 5 this could not be more true. You see the colony was two fold, its face being the science initiative, but its true nature being that of a prison. While it was in operation, select prisoners were chosen from various races and given a choice. Go to Octanus 5 for reduced sentence and do whatever the initiative asked, or stay in prison. Unsurprisingly only a handful took the offer, and were sent to the planet to serve out the rest of their sentences working for the initiative.   

After a few years after this the initiative lost its grant (not helped by whispers about the planet and some bad press), and the prisoners were allowed to leave. However most chose to stay, having already made families and connections on Octanus 5. These nomadic groups of ex-cons and their decedents are now the main group that lives on Octanus 5. However there are still some murmuring among certian circles that some of the more "problematic" prisoners are still sent to Octanus 5 to disappear.[/center][/hider]      

[b]Appearance:[/b] Standing at 6'7'' Asrial is already an imposing figure, which is doubled by his Aranok heritage. His hide is a dark burnt amber color that fades to a lighter more dusty coloration in a few spots. His eyes are the normal Aranok coloration (that being very dark), but if one looks hard enough it becomes appearent that his left eye is slightly light than his right. On the same side a small pale scar is visible just above his mouth. As for clothing Asrial is a fan of two things, muted colors and tight fitting clothing (which are perhaps callbacks to his growing up on Octanus). This being said he seems best at home in his flight armor, often wearing it whenever possible. 
  
[b]Personal History:[/b] Born to "Group 23" (or Grou23 as they came to call themselves) Asrial was raised mainly by the group, all former convicts and their children. Growing up he was never really concerned with who his parents were, though he had some suspicions about a couple of the convicts, on of who was a human who had undergone the genetic treatment necessary to bare a child of a different species. But at his core he was and forever would be a child of Grou23, and he would in all honesty never have it any other way. but growing up on Octanus 5 was never what anyone would call easy, for if it wasn't the land trying to kill you it was one of the many predators, a fact that forced the young Asrial to mature quickly or die. But mature he did, and in doing so he learned to fight, fight those that wished to kill you, fight the planet that only wanted to swallow your bones, and fight the odds that always seemed stacked against you. Even by the time he was 6 the young Aranok knew his way around a knife better than most, and how to gut and prepare sand skitters so their venom glands didn't wind up in your food. By 10 he was joining the hunts for larger pray, the kind that eat you in one bite without an after thought.

But despite all this, despite all the killing and all the forced mental growing up, Asrial found himself looking up at the stars every night. While the others slept, he traced his finger across the stars, drawing his own constellations, his own stellar maps. His wide eyes would track the passage of comets and meteorites as they burned in the sky. He would reach out towards the blinking lights of passing satellites and ships in low orbit, trying to grasp them to join them. But they were always, just out of reach. This nightly ritual did not go unnoticed by many, though none really seemed to mind or care what Asrial did in his free time. At least that was how it appeared until and old female Ellori name Shara came to Asrial one night, bringing with her an offer to teach the now 11 Asrial all she knew about the stars and those who walked among them. An offer Asrial seized with both hands. 

As the years went by Asrial grew and learned much from Shara, the proper names for constellations, other systems, and all about DefCom, which quickly became his favorite subject. Luckily it seemed Shara was an inexhaustible source of stories about DefCom, and was happy to share with the young Aranok. This continued until the say of Asrial's 16th birthday, when Grou23 found themselves in Morrisburg for some supplies that had just come down from an orbiting freighter. As they were all picking through the market with what they had to trade, Shara motioned Asrial to follow her. With a raised eyebrow he followed her lead, winding through the town's streets until they came to the landing platform where the transport ship from the freighter sat. Enraptured at what he saw, Asrial began to look over the craft with a sense of glee as his teacher explained the different parts to him. Asrial was so enraptured by the craft he didn't notice the smiling man approaching them. When he did he just about jumped five feet out of surprise, much to both the human's and Shara's enjoyment. After everyone had calmed down the man introduced himself as Johan and whet into an obviously rehearsed description of exactly Asrial's duties would be aboard the freighter.

After only a few sentences Asrial stopped him with a confused look and no idea what was happening. Johan looked confused himself for a moment and made a side glance towards Shara with one of his eye brows raised. Shara looked a bit sheepish and turned to Asrial, quietly explaining that the group made an unexpected amount for the hides it brought to this years market and were at a loss of what to do with it. So she had quietly suggested that they use it to help Asrial fulfill his dreams, to give a child of prisoners a freedom he would never find here. And in a surprising move they agreed, using the money to finance part of the cost for passage to a trade hub, with the rest of the cost being paid by his work aboard the ship. 

With tear filled eyes Asrial embraced Shara and thanked her profusely before she slowly pushed him away. With her own eyes full of tears she told him that his things were already aboard the ship, and that it was waiting for him. A torn feeling suddenly sprang up in Asrials breast, but was assuaged by the smile that Shara gave him, but still he seemed hesitant to go his steps faltering slightly. As if sensing this discomfort Shara reached out and lightly pushed him towards the craft. Swallowing his discomfort Asrial listened to his old teacher one final time and boarded the ship. Turning one last time to see that the rest of the group had filtered out of the market and were all standing at the base of the pad, smiling and waving. 

As the ship lifted of Asrial found his seat and his things in a rough travel bag. Opening it he found everything he expected, and one thing he did not. A large dagger in a rough leather sheath (which was embroidered with a rough 23 on the side). Pulling it out he found that the dagger itself was made of a Ka-Kal (a large sand burrowing predictor that has rock hard bones) bone and bore a carving of three spheres. With a melancholy smile he put it back into its sheathe and put that back into his bag as the transport was reaching the freighter. 

After a short time on the freighter Asrial reached the trade hub and was offered a position aboard the freighter, which he agreed to as he honestly had no idea where to go. The work was alright and he enjoyed it, over time he was even taught how to pilot the transport ships, as well as the smaller cargo loading ships. He practiced and practiced on these smaller craft, soon earning himself a job as one of the crew's full time pilots. He would stay with the freighter until some time after his 20th birthday, where he would find himself on one of the fringe trade hubs, getting some shore leave with the other members of the crew when he overheard some recruits from the local DefCom instillation talking about a few of their recent sorties. With a twinge of nostalgia, Asrial's mind jumped back to his teaching under Shara and her endless stories. Grinning and taking a swallow of his drink he turned to one of his comrades from the freighter and asked in quite simple terms "where do I find the DefCom recruiter?"  

After that he enlisted, initially entering the ground forces as his background and natural strengths found him more in tune with the ground pounders than the navy. But that didn't stop him from sneaking into the on base simulators after hours to try his hand at them. Which was all well and good until a few months into it he beat the simulation with flying colors, which then in turn meant that his success was recorded in the servers, and those in charge finding out about his nightly self training. 

One short disciplinary hearing later and Asrial was certain they were kicking him out. A feeling that was reinforced by all of his stuff missing from his bunk, and the Lt that stood next to it with a very serious look on his face. Sighing Asrial walked forward to be given the bad news, when much to his surprise the Lt informed him that all of his things were simply moved and that he was being reassigned to pilot's school. Not quite the punishment that Asrial had in mind, but one he would take with a big grin on his face.

After training he was assigned to [i]Warlock Squadron[/i], where his 'unorthodox' approach to combat drew the questioning eye of a couple higher ups, yet for all of their questioning all had to admit that Asrial was brutally effective. Still after a time another squadron, the [i]Titan Killers[/i], began to grow low on numbers, and so Asrial being the junior was transferred. After flying with them for a couple years, Asrial received word that he was being sent to the newly created [i]Wylde Fyre[/i] squadron. Which oddly enough he found to be and exciting change...  

[b]Personality:[/b] On the outside Asrial shares the gruff, surliness of his race. Snarling at the most minor problem, toying his claws if he feels bored and the ever present distrust of new people. But after one gets to know him, and learns the subtle tells that shows Asrial to be what he really is, which is a quiet, caring, inquisitive individual who will follow those he deems as friends to whatever end. 

In combat he is a brutal hunter, singling out targets and engaging them with exacting efficiency to create holes and havoc among the enemy ranks. On the ground he is just as exacting, but he can and has turned into a berserk attacker if he feels the need arises.

Finally his greatest weakness is caramel drizzled brownies. Perhaps a product of both never being exposed to them before and his natural tendency to gorge on sweet things, he cannot resist over eating the things. In fact if they are present it is not uncommon to find him the next morning half passed out in bed with chocolate and caramel smeared around his mouth, after which he usually proceeds to vomit as his body violently reacts to the sugar heavy food.  

[b]Gear and Equipment:[/b]

-Flight armor w/ closed helmet (Aranok variant)
-Bone dagger
-M29 Combat Shotgun
-M8 Kenaz sidearm
-first aid/trauma kit 

[b]Fighter Customisations:[/b] He has named his Saber [i]Hierophant[/i], and has painted the [url=https://scontent-sea1-1.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-xfp1/v/t1.0-9/10590530_10208333082594147_172523789089400538_n.jpg?oh=dd44452b996ce576f2c43763ffecb237&oe=56FD7DE3]three orb symbol found on his dagger[/url] on the tips of both wings. On the nose he has a snarling maw akin to the fighters of a bygone era, only with a deep amber color instead of the normal red. 

[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9c2ZJPKz5u8&spfreload=10]Character Theme[/url]