[CHAR] The Star-Breakers — Roleplayer Guild

[CHAR] The Star-Breakers

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GM Mintz

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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Mintz

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Mintz

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"You either prove you're worth a damn or you get cast aside. How it works everywhere...My ship is no different."

Name: Kura (his people possess no last name, usually simply being referred to as 'Son of [blank]' or 'Daughter of [blank]', typically referencing their father; in his case, he is the Son of Cardon)

Nicknames/Titles: Captain, The Starblade (by some very extra wanted posters)

Age: 36

Gender: Male

Ship Role: Captain

Race:Saiyan - A warrior race of very human-like aliens, naturally powerful and almost innately ruthless. They are also known for their innate ability to manipulate Chi, the lifeforce of living things, to a variety of degrees; usually in methods made to help them fight and kill people. They are also capable of transforming into giant apes under the light of a full moon, drastically increasing their strength...Though at a loss of self-control. At least, for those Saiyans who possess tails. Which sadly, Captain Kura does not. 

Personality: If you've ever met one of his people, you'd probably say he didn't fall far from the tree....Though he's still a fair bit different. He can be brutal at times, and when he's pissed off, you'd be wise to steer clear. Still, he's far more collected than the average Saiyan, and he's...Well, calling him sociable might be a stretch, but can converse well enough, and unlike some of his kin, is actually willing to do it. Usually...

Underneath that brash and prickly exterior, however, lies a...Slightly noble soul, at least. He won't tolerate any authority figures and is a natural rebel, which also leads to him siding with the underdogs, so to speak. If no one else will stand up for someone, there's a decent chance Kura might; why he's like this is up to anyone's guess, but at the very least, it's clear the Captain knows a little bit of chivalry, which can't go unappreciated from a man of his position. 

Biography: The Captain's history? You wanna know? Heh, that's rich....For a ragtag lot he's scrounged together in the span of a few months, it'll be longer than that before you find out much from him. All you need to know is he's the Captain of The Star-Breakers, and of their totally legal and not stolen in the slightest ship, the Galatea. In the short time you all have come to know him, he's proven an extremely reliable, if quite strict, leader. But now, with a new big mission on the horizon, it will be time to see just how well this team can hold together....

Powers/Skills:

Chi Manipulation: Like any Saiyan worth their salt, Kura can manipulate his Chi, using it to increase his already impressive raw strength, create blasts of energy, fly, and even defend himself...Though this is the standard fare. While it's a powerful tool to have at your disposal, it's not a limitless resource, and extensively pushing it will lead to hasty exhaustion or even death in extreme circumstances. As such, he uses it lightly, and only when necessary.
Swordsmanship: Kura is very proficient with his sword, and could out-duel any old schmuck even without the potential advantages granted to him by his Chi. But between his innate abilities and his impressive skill with the blade, he's a force to be reckoned with in melee combat.
Jack-Of-All Trades: Kura's had a lot of time to learn to become self-sufficient, and although it's far more tolerable with a proper crew, he knows all the ins and outs required to run a ship regardless, and even stuff outside of that; baseline knowledge of engineering and navigation, a bit of...Let's call it hands-on medical and surgical know-how, and more. He's got a lot of surface-level skills that've helped him out over the years, but it pays to have a pro on deck....
Charisma: While you wouldn't guess it interacting with him in a normal setting, when Kura wants, he can really crank on the charm; especially useful given he's the guy usually talking through deals and being a 'face' for the crew, so to speak.
Wrathful State: His people are normally able to transform into Giant Apes under the light of a full moon (or even an artificial moon if necessary), but due to Kura lacking a tail, he cannot do this. However, he figured out a work-around...Turns out nothing is stopping his people from accessing the raw strength and fury of their beastly forms even in their human state, though it took him a hella long time to get it to work. The bright side? Since he doesn't have a tail, the moon has no effect on him. The downside? This 'Wrathful State', as it were, is just as wild as a normal Giant Ape, so getting Kura to cool down after he uses it is...Problematic. As such, this is something big he keeps in his pocket for major situations.

Equipment:

Katchin Blade: A katana-like blade made from a cold black metal, it is unusually heavy for its size, completely unwieldy for most people. Luckily, Kura isn't most people. He wields it as naturally as one could swing a wooden sword, and the material it is made from is quite unique, possessing a reflective property to it, allowing it to deflect lasers and smaller blasts of energy with ease. Useful when you're getting shot at more often than not.
Universal Translator Implant: Sadly, doing business with all sorts of people is pretty damn tricky when they're all talking different nonsense; good thing he got this a ways back then. A translator implant on Kura's neck allows him to understand nearly any alien language spoken around him...Though it doesn't help with writing and the like.

Other: Kura stands at 6'2 ft. and weighs in at around 190 lbs., most of which being muscle.

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 7 mos ago Post by Akayaofthemoon

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Akayaofthemoon

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"Unfortunately, you cannot logic your way through emotion."


Name: 
Luirae Driani

Nicknames/Titles: 
Rae

Age:
25 

Gender:
Female

Ship Role: 
Doctor

Race: 
Cristallum [more details in bio]
Slightly bioluminescent skin/hair, the colors in the crystalline sections shifting as energy flows through it
The crystalline markings on their bodies are soft like skin but in times of danger or when feeling threatened, it hardens into a natural stone like armor. There are many weak points that do not shift or change. The armor can also still be broken with enough force as well.
The species has two hearts, one with a flow of energy and another that works much like a human heart for blood flow
Being underground, they are sensitive to light but the more exposure means it is easier to get used to it
Their eyes have developed in such a way that they can shift vision to see the inner workings of others' anatomy but this comes at the cost of all other surroundings to be blinded.
Species also has slight regenerate properties. Only superficial wounds will be healed rapidly. The more damage that  has to grow back the longer it takes and not everything can be fixed if destroyed which can lead to death. In a healing state, they are far weaker than normal and unable to use their normal defensive armor depending on the damage done.
Highly resistant to cold
Extremely logical society, emotions frowned upon
They make very little connections and most major connections are those with the same jobs or the mate chosen by the elders
Shuns technology in favor of simple village life


Personality: 
She isn't one to back down from a challenge and always put her all into everything she does. Rae can be stubborn, rash, and blunt but she is also kind and sweet, trying to be supportive in her own way. If you are lucky enough to get close to her and gain her trust, then she has unbreakable loyalty. She is the kind of being that would give up her life if it meant protecting others. She would literally give the shirt off her back if it were to help another. Sometimes she can be oblivious to certain things, misunderstanding words/phrases, or doesn't understand certain types of emotions but it is only because of her background where there weren't many emotions. Plus, English isn’t exactly her first language so it can hopefully be forgiven. 

Rae was born on the planet of Pluvia, a world covered in ice and snow, a vast wasteland of endless white and jutted glaciers at first glance. If you were trapped there, it would hold nothing but blizzards and large blocks of hail that fall from a never-ending storm. The clouds only clear once every year, letting the two moons circling her home planet to shine through and light up the snow causing something special to happen. Glowing flowers called Farafell bloom, only lasting one night but it is the only time her people see the surface and sky of their home though it is not because of the frigid temperatures but because it is more pleasant to live by other means. 

You see, her planet's true home is actually on the inside. They live in various tunnels that connect to different caves, each one uniquely different from the last but most are covered with lush strange plant life and animals adapted to the land above as well as below. The only source of natural light they have are certain bugs as well as spores that the trees release at certain times every day. It is the only true passage of time for them. They live a simple life, the people not having much in the way of technology and not really showing a need for it. Highly intelligent, they could have upgraded but it seemed to be easier to continue in the old ways. 

The Cristallum don't keep their children past the age of 4 so most parents aren't attached to their children or share a bond. It is for this reason that Rae finds it a strange concept to have people support her or be there for her since she is not used to it from her own kind. The Cristallum species chooses your job and then you are trained till you are of age to do the job assigned. It is all very official and not a lot of emotion is put into things but that is just their way. They are not mean or cruel, just too logical and try to be kind to all they meet (which is not many) unless they are given a reason to attack. None of her race have left home since it is almost impossible for flight, in or out and everyone always has a place to belong which never gives them a reason to want to leave. They also shun the advancement of technology in favor of goddesses, shamans, and village life. 

Rae felt she could be more and do more than what she was ordered/‘destined’ so she took her chances by learning the technologies from the outside world and used the broken parts of fallen ships to make one of her own, leaving on the one day when the sky was clear....the festival of the blooming Farafell. It wasn't long before she took on a job to be a bounty hunter when an officer of the law saw her defend herself from a being almost five times her size. It wasn't the perfect job and not really one she enjoyed but at least it was something since she was starting from scratch. After a few years on the job, Rae was starting to feel stuck in one spot again and it was miserable to be catching people only to have them being put who knows where. Instead, she switched to focusing on medicine, wanting to be able to help people and even save them. Being a bounty hunter meant always being alone which didn't pull her out of her quiet shell and lack of understanding seemed to put her in more trouble with others. 

The change in her life had brought about more than just her happiness but taught Rae about things she couldn't learn in class. Going to school and being around so many people where communication was necessary made her build confidence and allowed her to understand some emotions and things such as friendship though she was still lacking in many areas, at least she was more aware about the worry of upsetting others. After graduating early, she joined the Star-Breakers so she could explore the universe. She hoped to be a beacon to others that came from situations like her own, being able to leave for a different path of they so choose.


Powers/Skills:
Her eyes have the unique trait to look through the body of others if she so chooses and see straight to the bone, organs, muscles or tendons depending on what she prefers to see. This is one of the reasons she was a bounty hunter seeing as how this little gift gave her the edge of having a perfect accuracy to knock out her opponent or get the upper hand in battle but on the brighter side, it helps her be the good doctor she is. (She can only look through bodies, everything else appears black or dark in this mode of vision)
The crystalline markings on her body are soft like skin but in times of danger or when feeling threatened, it hardens into a natural stone like armor. There are many weak points that do not shift or change. The armor can also still be broken with enough force as well.
Slight regeneration properties
Proficient in archery, hand to hand combat, and sharp shooting
Decent tracker/investigator but she is sure there are much better than her out there
Has extensive medical knowledge about commonly known species


Equipment:
Elemental dual pistols or special bow/arrows. The bow has a specially made string that connects into the middle when a certain button is pressed. It activates a high powered magnet to keep the metal holder for the old string in place but can be disconnected before activating a high powered laser as the "new" string for close combat. She also keeps a portable medic kit at all times when they are not on the ship.

Other:Has a love for plants of all kinds but usually only keeps medically helpful ones around.
Plays music here and there. Most say the instrument sounds like an electric violin, whatever that is.

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 6 mos ago Post by Fading Memory

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Fading Memory The Final Flame of a Fiery Bird

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The Final Flame of a Fiery Bird

1068 posts

in 1884 days

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Art by Fragan Tanguy

"Oh, come on... Everyone wants to see inside the suit. You know you do. I know you do. Let's skip to the part where you ask about it and I talk about how fast I've seen people boil alive in the atmosphere of Thetos."

Art by SATURDAY (@Koyamamichiru) on Twitter.

"I'm sorry, are you disappointed? What did you expect, two heads?… It’s not worth getting all choked up over, quit that."

Full Name:
Tel'Larel of the Great House Darnirrah of the Uzzhi-Attan of Thetos

Some jams I listened
to while making the character

Nicknames/Titles:
Banshee - Current mercenary callsign and preferred name.
Formerly...
Uzzhi-Attan - Title reserved for the upper echelons of her homeworld, Thetos. Used as a blanket term for the upper caste in informal conversation. Roughly equivalent to the human 'Princess' when used for Banshee, due to the context-based meanings of the language.

Tella - Informal nickname given to her by her younger siblings and father.

Ea-Retta - 'The Great Betrayer' in the Thetos tongue; a significant title of exile.

Age:
Physiological Stage: Adulthood
Human Equivalent age: Approximately thirty two.
Thetos age: Five.

Gender:
Female [She/Her] by choice.

Ship Role:
Member - Combat oriented role, formally a 'Mercenary' before joining the crew.

Race:
Classification: Gas Giant

Star Type: Binary System in Steady Degradation: A lesser blue star being slowly pulled towards its orbiting companion, a super-luminous Green Giant. Estimated collision and resultant destruction of the Thetos Home System in 1.2 million years.

Rotation and Yearly Cycle: Exceptionally slow planetary rotation, with its yearly cycle being roughly six times that of Earth. Those born at the Dawn of a Thetos Day will not see Sunset until they are considered elderly, and only those of the highest ranks in the Caste System [called the Uzzhi-Seros] could hope to extend their lives to see the Night without traveling around the planet.

It is worth noting that the atmosphere and gases required by the People of Thetos to naturally breathe and tangibly interact with their surroundings are hyper-toxic to most species, and being fully submerged in the atmosphere of Thetos or a room adapted to its gases results in suffocation, burning/boiling, and death for those who cannot handle its properties.

Thetos is home to the People of Thetos, a gas-based people who are solid and very much so tangible while in the atmosphere of their home planet- but require the use of specialized Pressure-Suits to interact meaningfully with the universe outside their planetary borders. This has not held the People of Thetos back in more than a negligible capacity; their military might extends to a dominion of one hundred star systems that they claim as Imperial Territory, with dozens of planets and a proportionate amount of subservient species residing within. The primary means of expansion for the People of Thetos themselves are super-massive station-fortresses pressurized and built to house the gases of Thetos' atmosphere, which form the core of their military defense structure as well as act as the governing bodies of their Star Systems.

Aside from Thetos, only two other planetary bodies have been terraformed for the People of Thetos to inhabit personally; 

The Paradise Habitation of Hanoli-Minor, a moon of the Gas Giant Hanoli-Major, which was originally created for ecological study of Thetos Fauna in a foreign atmosphere and has evolved into an oft-revered paradise whose residencies are used as Imperial Reward.

The Colony World of Farhome, a recent effort by the People of Thetos to create a staging ground to exert further influence over the Galactic Core. Unlike Hanoli-Minor, Farhome is the first effort the People of Thetos have unveiled in the concept of 'cannibalizing' a foreign Gas Giant; the terraforming efforts are successfully altering atmospheric conditions on Farhome to match those of Thetos itself, which bodes well for the future of the Empire.

Subservient species within the Empire are considered second class citizens and the only upward mobility available to them is as Auxilia in the Imperial Army. That is not to say they are necessarily ill-treated, for they are a vital necessity to The Dominion's expansions and livelihood, but that they are distinctly kept out of the Thetos Caste System itself. In some ways this is a blessing, their cultural autonomy permitted within certain parameters, and allowing them the natural hierarchies and social structures of their species so long as their appointed representatives continue to meet Dominion expectations.

The Dominion's military might lies uniquely in its Space Force; Star-Fortresses of The Dominion are the envy of the galaxy in terms of Mega-Structure technology, and the Dominion Fleet is a feared entity in all the bordering star-sectors. The weakness of The Dominion's military comes in its planetary invasion and ground forces; they are reliant on the Auxilia of subservient species, with a relatively small amount of highly trained squads of the People themselves acting as command squads and special operations forces for the Auxilia forces.

Though few in number by comparison, the People of Thetos' specialized military units are seen as Spec-Ops boogeymen by the greater galaxy and their methods and tools are the topic of speculation and fear.

'Gender' is a choice for these people, their 'mating' with outside species is exceptionally rare due to the requirements for their bodies to take tangible form. Most choose to identify in Galactic Binary, but it isn't uncommon to find neuter or otherwise personal identifications within their society.
The bodies of the People of Thetos are malleable within the confines of their personal Mass; most choose an identifiable form and stick with it, and those who make use of Pressure Suits often modify the suit to their chosen body types and gender identity. This means that should an individual choose, they could theoretically operate very strangely shaped suits indeed- and there are stories of more bestial or exotic forms within the Dominion Military
Their form, when not solidified by the atmospheric gases of their Pressure Suits or Habitats, is gaseous naturally and will dissipate upon death. If their pressure suits break or they are forced outside of their habitable atmosphere, it is equivalent to suffocation or drowning to them- in slow-form. Their gaseous bodies are typically just as toxic to other species as their atmospheric conditions, and ending up outside a Pressure Suit or Habitat is often a slow and painful process of death due to the unique tools required for other species to interact with them. In short, they're floating balls of toxic gas that only become tangible bodies in certain environments.
The People of Thetos rely on a diet primarily of the intake of Gases, and can only interact with or consume physical food while in suitable Habitats- and even then, their requirements are so unique that they can typically only handle meals imported from The Dominion anyway.
The People of Thetos inherit based on Youth, meaning that the ruling class (outside the military) are headed by a radical youth cycle with elder siblings and family members taking advisory roles in the political spectrum. This can be a bloodthirsty affair if older siblings want their inheritance.

Personality:
Banshee is a jovial sort, sociable to a fault. Her demeanor is that of a mask, using her social inclinations and comedic nature to keep distance and dilute intimacy- a topic she has great issues with, and a topic she struggles with meaningfully connecting to others with. There is a certain haughtiness to her that she has never been able to quite shake that manifests in a smugness. Her upbringing as the highest class of Dominion society has instilled her with this unshakable identity as a superior person that has come into extreme conflict with her greater travels. There is certainly room for growth here, as she reconciles her own mortality and existence with that of others in the galaxy. She's fallen from a life of never knowing want into the darkness of 'Killer for hire', and that perspective change has brought with it philosophical identity crisis.

"In the end, we all bleed and die... That has to mean something, right?"

Biography:
Born into the Great House Darnirrah during Sunset, Banshee was the First Daughter. Inheritance into the illustrious Head of House Darnirrah was forever unattainable for her, but her education and choices widened with the birth of each sibling. The eldest of five, she eventually was granted autonomy over her destiny and chose a life of Glory.
Forgoing the initial political aspirations of her upbringing, she received personal tutelage from weapons masters and retired Dominion instructors to get a leg up on her admittance tests into The Dominion. She excelled, and in her young adult life achieved a high placement into the Special Forces. Hundreds of VR missions and skirmishing operations with the Auxilia later, Operative Banshee was born.
Her first major military operation was quelling an uprising within the Dominion, where she achieved renown within the Dominion for acts of heroism on the field of battle. Her squad spearheaded and commanded the Vanguard of the planetary assault; her boots were one of the first pair to hit the ground, and were one of the last sets to leave the planet's surface. The conflict was short and bittersweet, lasting only one local week, and her squad was accredited with the capture of the Rebel Leader after a blitz-assault of their reinforced Capital.
This success lead to the beginnings of an illustrious military career. She was a part of three more major military operations within the Dominion before she was assigned to the Expansion Effort. For the first time, she had to engage with truly foreign hostiles who were highly trained and well equipped. A far cry from the surgical strikes against localized uprisings, the horrors of true galactic warfare birthed the distant and comedic demeanor she is known for now.
This initial conflict against a Core Species resulted in the first major defeat of her career. Three of the seven squad mates she had come to trust and love had been killed, and she herself had sustained a crippling injury. 'The Bloody Defense of Farhome', as the battle has come to be called, is a stain on the Dominion military history. There was not yet a functional Star-Fortress in the system, and a cease-fire and truce were established with the destruction of the original Terraforming Pumps. The recovery and rebuilding of the system has been a political issue ever since, and radical parties within the Dominion cite it as a cause for both isolationism and military jingoism.
Temporarily crippled by the conflict, a traumatized Banshee was returned home. While in convalescence, she was approached by the Second Son of the family who attempted to recruit her into a plot to 'Cull the weakness from the family'. In short, her younger brother propositioned her with a plan to assassinate their three lesser siblings to assert The House Darnirrah as the dominant political force with 'His Allies'.
Shaken by her time at war, hardened by the conflicts she'd faced, and mentally unstable from her injuries and losses, this proposition shattered her mind. In a brief struggle, she killed her brother and contacted her convalescing squad mates. Within one standard solar week, she and the other three members of her squad enacted a series of strike operations within Thetos' atmosphere and decapitated the subtle stirrings of bloody coup that had been revealed by Banshee's brother. The four surviving special operations faced trial as Traitors, and were launched into galactic exile. A lessened sentence in light of their service to the Dominion, but a required one due to the vigilante nature of their 'justice'.
Thus the four banded together in Exile as mercenaries. Their cohesion and bond made them an efficient and lethal force for hire; their trauma and experiences in the wider galaxy pushed them apart. Eventually Banshee was alone as her companions pursued their own ambitions and goals in the galaxy...
And Banshee was approached to be hired on to a crew called 'The Star-Breakers'. Some day she hopes to encounter her former companions and regain their friendship, but for now she has to make ends meet.

"Tel'Larel." Lo'Laya spoke softly. "An old name. It will serve her well. It will serve the House well. It will serve Thetos well." Her words carried calmly, an evenness of tone that hushed the quiet mewlings of the babe in her arms. "A good name, my husband."

"It was my mother's." By comparison, Drunst's voice was a bold and deep thing. A heavy hand, whose size dwarfed the infant's head, extended outwards to cup the gaseous tendrils of the babe's body and corral them back into a manageable shape. Lo'Laya adjusted her embrace, holding the intermittently solid and gaseous child more tentatively. Her lips formed a tight line at this revelation;

"Ah. Truly? For the First? This reeks of sentiment."

The incubation tank is ready. 

The nearby holo-terminal brightened to display the text, accompanied by a sterile-sounding effeminate voice. The artificial words drew the attention of the Father. Drunst did not answer his wife's question. Instead, silence weighed upon his broad and powerful shoulders. His next gaze upon the child was filled with the significance and insinuation of the future; perhaps it was unfair to pin such a lofty aspiration on the newborn, but he could not help it. 

The silence persisted as he crossed the room in his impossible stride and, with a vigorous gesture, commanded the wall panel to slide open. The mother could remain silent no longer;

"The child may blow away, you fool, shut that damned thing!" Her voice snapped like a vice and the behemoth of a man leaned upon the frame, seeming at first as if unawares of her interjection. The gradient of sunset, with its green rays cascading a brilliance of neon color fading into the depths and darkness of a sea green, filled the sky. Interposed against this splendor were the Sky Lanes and their suspensor-bound transponder beacons; contrails from the civilian skimmers and Dominion aircraft traffic turning the gradient of the sunset into an abstract motif; the horizon, above the broiling Depths of Thetos, filled with the crawling Sky Habs and the ponderous palaces of the Great Houses...

"The sunset is beautiful..." He said at last. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he waved his hand and the wall panel slid shut. "It is a good omen."

"You're a romantic fool." Her words were soft, bordering on tender. Her eyes shut in her exhaustion even as her arms finally held the baby secure in her grip. "And if you don't hurry up that incubation tank, I'll throw you out that window myself."

Her eyes widened in the darkness of the room. Wisps of her hair flowed off of her, dissipating into the air- only for more to coil down from her scalp and flow out as short waves of thick hair. Her hand outstretched slowly towards the solitary source of light; the incubation tank. Her young brother, the Second Son. When her hand touched its cool display surface, she gasped.

"Bo." She murmured quietly. "Hello, Bo."

The display screen shifted at her unintentional input. Medical charts flew off the screen and the projector flared into existence with a briefly blinding flash of light. Tel'Larel staggered back in the oafish manner of toddlers the galaxy over. She fell back, landing with a soft thud and a gentle cry of surprise. When next she opened her eyes, the sight before her chased the beginnings of tears away and widened her eyes.

The incubation tank's observational scanner had been triggered by her touch, and she was treated to the sight of her little brother's infancy incubation. The holographic projection showed the gaseous cocoon within the pressurized incubation tank, where little Bo was swaddled in a whirling vortex of vapors and fumes. Tel'Larel staggered to her feet and waved a hand clumsily through the air, trying to grasp at the flickering and writhing form of the infant in futility.

"Bo! It's me, Tel'Larel! I'm your big sister!" She laughed hysterically as she dropped to her knees and gazed up at the fantastical display of colors and movement- the gently shifting physical form of her brother outlined in the silhouette of growth-assisting chemicals. "Papa says I'm supposed to take care of you and mama!"

"And mama says you're not supposed to be in here alone. The incubation tank is a complex machine, Tel'Larel. You could have hurt Botar."

The voice had a profound impact on the young girl. She leapt to her feet and achieved a posture best described as 'rigid'. For a few quiet moments, the only movement in the room was the holographic display of Botar's infantile wiggling and the perpetually shifting wisps of Tel'Larel's hair.

"Come here. You're late for your lessons."

Tel'Larel swiveled in place and looked up at her mother. Lo'Laya was a waifish tower of angular features and pale flesh. Aquiline was an apt descriptor; Tel'Larel shared the woman's pronounced jawline and chin. She approached in the deliberate and cautious steps of the damned. Her hand was swiftly snatched, but gently held- and Tel'Larel was thusly pulled out of the nursery with great haste.

"Your father exerted a great deal of influence at the Dominion Council to get you this tutor. This means that your lessons are thus a duty to this Great House. Can you spell the House Name yet?" Swelling with childish pride, Tel'Larel anxiously burst out her answer;

"Yes, ma'am. D-A-R-N-I-R-R-A-H. Darnirrah."

"At least you've got that going for you." Lo'Laya murmured, her attention already stolen from Tel'Larel's response and focused on the infinitely shifting display in the lenses of her glasses. "You must do better about doing as you're told."

Incapable of fully comprehending anything except the rising panic in her chest, Tel'Larel pressed on with what she hoped would please her mother.

"House Darnirrah is a fin...Fin...Fin-an-chi-al. Financial. Insti...too...shun...Institution! of Thetos." She looked upwards, hope daring to peak through the shadows of doubt in her eyes. Lo'Laya glanced down at the girl and dropped to one knee, suddenly grasping her in both hands by the shoulders.

"Yes, my daughter. That is very good. Can you do as you're told?" Even as she spoke, her eyes trailed the ceaseless scroll of data rather than gazing through the screen at Tel'Larel's face. "You need to focus on these lessons. We have enemies. Your father has a dangerous job. He's relying on us to do well-" Lo'Laya suddenly flicked a wrist, the data-stream halting on a flashing alert depicting a series of numbers. With a series of complex hand gestures, the numbers expanded and revealed details within details. She let out a hot sigh, clicking her tongue quietly before her eyes focused through the lenses onto Tel'Larel. "-Say, you're doing well today."

Tel'Larel beamed up at her mother.

"Can you remember what happened to the first of House Darnirrah's great enemies? Has your tutor gotten that far into your history lessons yet?"

"Ancestor Drunst, first of Father's name, declared Uzzhi-Orthod on House Trelyo." The young girl's voice was a quiet tremble, the severity of such a thing apparent to her even if the specific nuances eluded her. "We destroyed them. Because they refused to pay their debt."

"Mhm. Good." Lo'Laya ruffled Tel'Larel's hair gently, before leaning down to kiss her forehead softly. "Keep paying attention. Father is in council now and needs mama to do her job too. Promise me you'll pay attention in your lessons."

"I promise."

"Good, now get in there; Tutor Fushtok is waiting on you. Mama has to help Father, because some very naughty people are trying to do what House Trelyo tried to do. And that would be very very rude."

Tel'Larel watched as her mother's back receded down the hall away from her. She swayed as if the absence of her mother's hands upon her shoulders resulted in the loss of all stability. Her eyes were wide and amazed.

"...Uzzhi-Orthod..." She whispered reverently, at last turning to enter the study hall.

"...Thetos has always been defined by Air Power. Early conflicts between the Great Houses hinged on ship superiority, loyalty of the lower castes, and veterancy of the troops. House Alandrio pioneered the first Dominator Class Fighter Craft, capable of exiting the upper atmosphere and partaking in true space flight. House Darnirrah extended a line of credit to House Alandrio and formed an alliance, which is known as The Uzzhi Attan-Ta- named after the dueling weapon. The innovations of House Alandrio changed the way war was waged, and House Darnirrah's economic sanctions alongside the Alandrio war machine brought the era of civil conflict to an end. House Alandrio was granted a position on the Great Council, and with the assistance of House Darnirrah established a vote to unite the Great Houses into the Dominion-"

Tel'Larel's recitation was cut short by the venerable Fushtok, whose taut skin and gaunt eyes gave him a haunted, skeletal, visage. His words sliced through her dialogue like a laser through margarine.

"Someone's been doing her reading. More than can be said for masters Botar and Illyr. Botar, how many years did the vote to establish the Dominion last?"

"Two years, Tutor." Botar's demeanor was that of the rake, even in this adolescent state he had a charming air and a relaxed attitude that had made him popular with their peers. "The vote concluded shortly before Dawn broke. Concessions had to be made to House Reyvahn by House Alandrio in terms of personal territorial expansion, and House Darnirrah had to forgive many of the lesser houses' debts in order to gain the necessary votes to unify the governing body."

"Hm. Is this your knowledge, or are you using a holo, young master?"

"A holo." Botar admitted freely, tapping at the side of his head and adjusting his glasses. The lenses shifted, dismissing the privacy filter, and revealed the data streaming across the young man's gaze. Before he could speak again, Fushtok let out another series of clucking sounds.

"Disappointing, but these are the times, eh?"

"They've been the times for a few generations, Tutor." Botar laughed heartily. "Your methods are outdated beyond even your years." These roguish words warranted a laugh from the young Illyr- the Third Son of House Darnirrah- who immediately came to regret his break in composure.

"Ah, young Illyr finally joins the lessons. At last. Since Tel'Larel and Botar are so keen on sharing their raw knowledge, let me posit to you-" Illyr winced preemptively. "-A hypothetical-" Tel'Lara offered a sympathetic smile to Illyr as she enjoyed no longer being in the spotlight, her hand rising to brush a wisp of waving hair from her face and tucking it over her ear as she winked encouragement to Illyr. "-conundrum. I won't bother asking you how many castes are within the Uzzhi-Soros, or how many worlds the Dominion has taken under its influence since our expansion into the stars- No, those are too easy for you to rely on the holo for."

Fushtok crossed the study hall in two steps to Illyr's desk, his long legs cracking with each step as his knee joints resisted even this basic movement.

"Master Illyr, presuming the enemies of House Darnirrah choose to act openly, who would be the first to declare Uzzhi-Orthod?"

To his credit, the youth needed only a few seconds to formulate his response.

"The Great House Reyvahn, Tutor Fushtok!"  He declared in a hurried tone. "They've never forgiven us for our involvement with the Great House Alandrio."

"That may be true, but they're also spineless wisplings. Try again, little one, that guess is academic but not realistic."

Tel'Larel gasped quietly and shifted her attention to the entrance of the study hall, where the booming voice of her father had come. His imposing bulk filled the doorway nearly as full as a wall would have. Botar chuckled and waved at their father- but Illyr paled at having given an incorrect answer before the patriarch of their family and cleared his throat and choked on any further words.

"House Alandrio, then." Botar tried, feigning- quite admirably, too- an uncaring demeanor.

"More realistic, but we fund their research and subsidize the construction of the Dominion Fleet. Without us, Alandrio is nothing. Any other guesses?" His eyes fell upon Tel'Larel, and once again she felt that weight of expectation upon her. She shifted, her free hand gripping the long skirt of her dress as she weighed the question. Uzzhi-Orthod always brought a tremble to her spine. The answer slipped from her lips before she truly thought about it;

"The Great House Ogavessan."

Drunst wiped sweat from his brow and swallowed a measure of pride. The ceremonial tunic he wore was drenched with his exertion and more than one bruise was forming on his calloused arms. Sometimes being so large was a hindrance- and in this moment, it certainly was. He had to readjust his grip on the long cable he wielded with haste. Tel'Larel was beginning her assault once again.

Drunst ducked low, the weighted orb of his daughter's Attan-Ta striking viciously over his shoulder. He swung outwards in a sweeping motion, twisting with the movement to build momentum as Tel'Larel jumped over the highly broadcast swing. With a sharp twist of his arm and the utilization of his leg as a fulcrum, he swung the length of rope downwards and redirected the momentum of his weapon into a sudden and brutal thrusting attack with his orb. Even as his attack sailed towards the slight frame of Tel'Larel he was aware of her own retaliating strike. His size and experience had awarded him a measure of endurance against the stunning blows of these training Attan-Ta, and thus he could afford to trade with the young woman in these exchanges.

Tel'Larel, however, surprised him this time. He watched as she canceled her attack and deadened her momentum. He saw her movements as she yanked back harshly on her cord and fell backwards. He watched his attack nearly connect with her forehead before she snapped her head back. He saw as she hit the ground flat on her back- but twisted her legs and coiled the rope of her Attan-Ta between them. Realization at her unorthodox retaliation came moments too late- by the time Drunst regained control of his weapon and tried to bring it to bear in an executing strike against the prone girl, she had propelled herself up onto her hands and sent her body into a dervish whirl, the bend of her legs guiding her Attan-Ta into the side of Drunst's neck with a paralyzing shockwave of the training weapon's instruments.

Drunst's approval surged even as his body toppled to the ground. Tel'Larel joined him moments later, her body heaving with the efforts of their duel as she embraced him and awaited the end of the paralysis effect.

"Tella." He groaned. "That was new."

"You like to do those thrusting maneuvers, papa." she responded. "I had to come up with a counter attack, otherwise you'd play keep-away like always."

Drunst sat up, appreciative of her help, and rolled his neck. It was still mostly numb, and he couldn't feel anything in his left shoulder or arm. He was thankful for training equipment and the lack of serious injuries that came with it. He heaved a deep breath and held it, his wide chest filling up- only to exhale in a choked laugh as Tel'Larel hugged hum tightly.

"House Ogavessen," He began, shifting his bulk to pry the girl away from him and hold her at arm's length. "That was an interesting answer earlier. Why?"

"Well... Honestly, mother." She said quietly.

"Lo'Laya? She's a Darnirrah through and through- the work comes more naturally to her than it ever did to me." He said with equal parts caution, intrigue, and expectation. She was close to the truth of it! So close! He had to see if she had intuited the quick of it. The way her eyes were simultaneously so expressive yet so shielded reminded him of her mother- but what they did show was so much like his mother that it pained him at times. He could see the gears turning in her mind, the hesitation to speak, the emboldening influence of adrenaline and the duel, and finally conviction- but not the truth of her feelings beneath them, she was particularly guarded in regards to this topic- all take their turn in the shadows of her eyes.

"Yes, but that's just it; you stole her from House Ogavessen." Tel'Larel said with a slow deliberance. "She was Third Daughter, and after you... Er... Arranged-"

"Bought. I bought your mother. A significant dowry, too. She was willing in the arrangement, no mistake, but Ogavessen made it a transaction."

"-Er...Yes, that's just the thing. Third daughter with two older sisters. Ogavessen's succession was secure, but mother was the prize. Everyone still talks about her as if she's the real head of house Darnirrah-"

"A good ploy, that one. She's a good distraction for the Council to chew on." Drunst chuckled and ruffled Tel'Larel's hair. "She works them up, and I lay them down." Tel'Larel couldn't help but smirk playfully at his words and lackadaisical nature. She swats at his hand, her hair flowing wisplike again in her relaxed state.

"And from what Fushtok has told me, before your marriage she was the most sought after bride in all of the Dominion. She had her pick of all the Great Houses and she chose you. I know Alandrio offered her a commission with the admiralty board, and Reyvahn tried to blackmail her." Anticipating his interruption this time, she dutifully stopped and fixed her smirk on Drunst.

"Stupid idea that one. Nothing screams 'romance' like trying to reveal family secrets. She'd have eaten them alive from the inside."

"Mhm." Tel'Larel giggled now. "I can see that. What I never understood is...Er... Don't take this the wrong way..."

"Noted." Drunst said with a cocked eyebrow, now rising to his feet alongside his daughter as sensation returned to his extremities.

"...What did you offer her that nobody else could?"

"I offered her the future. Everyone else was playing with their cards too close to their chest; smartest woman in the Dominion and they tried to be crafty with her. Tried to corner and cage her like some feral Zwuthop in the Depths. I sat down with her, Tella, and told her that if she married me I would do everything in my power to give her the future."

"And she bought that line? Really?"

Her response made him stumble and bark out a deep laugh; "Luckily she did. Otherwise I'd never have gotten you, or Botar, or Illyr, or Se'Ras, or little Virsh." 

"...Nobody could have anticipated the accident." She continued quietly. "Both daughters in a skimmer explosion... And you had Lo'Laya. Ogavessen was crippled because of it. If they don't blame you for the decline of their house, then I just... I just don't know, papa."

He brokered a silence by turning to face her fully, staring down into her face. "...You're too damned clever; are you sure you still wish to pursue the Path of Glory? You have other options. Virsh will need you when the time comes."

"I'm sure." She said immediately. "Botar is already better with the politics than I ever will be, and Illyr is as smart as mother is- just too shy to let it show. Se'Ras is already planning her wedding, too- I shall have to pray for the courtship scene when she finally comes of age, she's going to have half of Thetos dancing to her tune... Which leaves me." She looks to the side, that thoughtful expression which made Drunst think equally of his wife and mother appearing again. "Little me. The First. No, I'm sure. I choose the Dominion. I choose the Path of Glory." She met his eyes at last, a fierceness there that Drunst had never seen before. He nodded once- it was settled then.

"Very well. I have one final gift for you then, to prepare you for your examinations. If you're to represent House Darnirrah, you're to do a damn fine job of it. Fushtok!" He yelled the name so loudly it startled Tel'Larel, and rendered her wide-eyed to see the elderly and skeletal figure of her tutor click-clack his way into the room on his arthritic joints.

"Fushtok?" She was perplexed.

"I may be old, young mistress, but I once walked the path that you have chosen." He fixed his gaunt, haunted, eyes onto Tel'Larel. Drunst nodded to the tutor and left without a word, leaving Tel'Larel in the room with the oldest friend Drunst had ever known. The whirr of a military grade Attan-Ta filled the air, released from its concealed housing in Fushtok's cloak...

"You have some cleverness about you, but it needs discipline and temperance." Fushtok's voice was like iron. His eyes stoked like the engines of a Scrape-Skim burning in atmosphere. "Let us see how well your hubris holds up against proper Dominion mettle. D'rush-Voh! Dodge... If you can."

Powers/Skills:
Highly trained combat specialist, capable in all forms of combat- but specialized in the 'Traditional' weapons of the Thetos Dominion and focused in close quarters combat scenarios. She fulfills the role of a 'Juggernaut' handily.

Socially trained, politically inured; she is a savvy talker and is resistant to mental influences. Unfortunately this means she has 'opinions'.

Fleet-Based Operations: She has a keen mind for the complex topic of ship movements and gunnery, and has specialized training in Zero-G combat.

Equipment:
Dominion Military Pressure Suit - Banshee's advanced combat pressure suit, customized to her preferences and specifications. Features all the necessities for maneuvering in a Zero-G/Vacuum environment, as well as the pressure-sealed necessities to facilitate a People of Thetos to exist. Her suit is a military design, featuring heavy armor plating as well as a sophisticated personal shield generator. This personal shield encapsulates the armor in its protective field, and is designed to severely impede energy based attacks; mundane strikes or more retro weaponry such as ballistics would more easily bypass the shielding and require her armor to suffer damage directly- but in all honesty she is essentially a walking tank. A sophisticated, small, tank. Breaches in the suit can be sealed to minimize damage to her body, but typically result in heavily reduced mobility and functionality for her until proper field repairs can be made.

Her Suit also possesses a wide suite of utilitarian functionality such as radio/visual transmission and linkup, and a universal translator and a biometric scanner. All the things you'd expect a science fiction power armor suit to be capable of. It is a highly modular suit, capable of donning/doffing the extreme weight of its half-ton armor and slimming down to a more casual suit that Banshee can relax in whilst still maintaining its Zero-G and shielding capabilities. 

Dominion Attan-ta - A traditional weapon of Thetos modernized by the Dominion military. It is, traditionally, a heavy orb wielded on a long rope which facilitates complex maneuvers. The modern variant is much improved, but still captures the essence of the traditional culture icon; the one wielded by Banshee, and many other Dominion Soldiers, is instead a complex drone synced to her suit's Heads Up Display, and controlled by subvocalized commands. Basically, she whispers orders to the orb and it smashes into things with immense force. It is astoundingly dangerous despite its simplistic design, and serves as the primary weapon that Banshee prefers. The energy exerted by an impact of this orb far exceeds what one would expect by its size, and despite its limited range it can strike with dizzying speeds.

Should the need arise, the orb can release a cable to permit traditional and mundane wielding.

Dominion Laser Pistol - The standard issue sidearm of the Dominion special forces. This weapon functions both in atmosphere and in vacuum, firing a precision laser with variable strengths and beam widths. Can be toned down to 'stun' settings, or increased into a powerful and short ranged breaching cutter that can be used to cut into the hulls of tanks or ships.

Banshee's Howl - The Pressure Suit modification that earned Banshee her namesake. A potent, short ranged, sonic weapon prototype. Sound from her microphone is amplified and projected outward, directionally, from her helmet. In short, it turns her words or screams into disorienting blasts of sonic force. Generally this will disorient and cause disarray, but prolonged and directed application of the Howl could cause severe damage or deafness in a nearby target.

Force Amplification Field - the gauntlets, forearm plates, boots, and leg armor of Banshee's Pressure Suit are potent bludgeoning tools built using the same technology as her Attan-ta, which empower her physical strikes. While not as potent as the Attan-ta itself, this modification to her suit permits her to use her body as a weapon when the need arises.

In a mundane sense, she keeps a survival kit on her at all times. This kit contains appropriate ration-stuffs for her physiology, as well as emergency repair tools for her suit and supplemental atmospheric cannisters to replenish her suit's gases for when conventional means of repair or replenishment aren't possible.

Other:
I've drawn inspiration from a myriad sources for this one, with the heaviest being the Volus or Quarians of Mass Effect and the secondary being various episodes of Star Trek where they encountered truly 'alien' beings with different core makeups than the carbon-based human type. As for my 'favorites' in Science Fiction, for literature that would be Dune by Frank Herbert [though I've only made time to read the first in its illustrious series at this time] and the Hyperion Cantos by Dan Simmons [which has an excellent audio book adaptation series that I'm able to steadily consume]. In Video Games, that would be Mass Effect if I'm discounting the subgenre of 'punk'- if I included it, I'd have to quietly shill for Cyberpunk 2077 as an experience I legitimately enjoyed quite a bit despite its glaring flaws.

Oh, and I’d be absolutely remiss not to mention Firefly. You can’t take the sky from me!

Banshee’s Height
Out of Suit: five foot eight inches [Three and a half Venko] Quite tall for her Species.
In Suit: six foot Eight inches [Four and one quarter Venko]

Banshee’s Weight
Gaseous Form: Negligible, approximating 1Kg.
Tangible/In Thetos Atmosphere: ~150 LBS.
In Suit (Casual/Minimum Utility): ~200 LBS.
In Suit (Fully Armored): ~1,000 LBS.

Edit: Added my 'long' background sections, expanding my outline. I have a new word processor to use, so I have some extra incentive to get to writing.

Edit 2: I have posted my 'Part One'.

Edit 3: Corrected minor capitalization errors and added basic height and weight information to homogenize sheet standard against others.

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 7 mos ago Post by Jumbus

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Jumbus

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"Get in, break things, take things, blow things up, get out, have a good meal. That ordering is preferential but I like to mix it up every now and again."


Name: 8702, Subject 8702

Nicknames/Titles: Slink

Age: Functionally 28. The race has a shorter life span so 14 in reality.

Gender: Male

Ship Role: Sneak/Saboteur

Race: Vermal
- Reside on a life supporting moon in deep space.
- Not considered a race in the typical sense, they are akin to Earth orangutans with a similar level of intelligence.
- Posses some latent psionic abilities.
- Due to the above, they are a target for experimentation from less than ethical researchers.
- Heights range from 3 to 4 feet tall.


Personality: Slink has made a job out of taking risks and doing dangerous tasks, and he loves his job. While he is certainly prone to dicey endeavors, he is smart enough to use stealth and subtlety when the time calls for it. Sometimes a little bit of set up is nice for the biggest pay offs. Slink is also drawn to shiny things which leads him naturally into theft. But the biggest shine of them all is from a nice big explosive detonating which Slink really loves.

Manners in general are something Slink is working on. Most of his memories are that of being in a lab, so being civil is something he never really had to learn before. Having a team that he can rely on is something he takes a lot of comfort in and he is trying his best. But he is struggling to adapt in this sense.

Biography:
Subject 8702 was the first true breakthrough for the latest research expedition to the Vermal moon. Not only were they able to unlock his latent psionic abilities to minuet capabilities of telekinesis, they were able to have him develop speech and learning capabilities on par, if not exceeding, human. The experimentation was not a kind process though. It was often painful and without results. Left without supervision by a governmental force or ethics committee, it was to be 8702's lot in life to be trapped in a lab for the rest of his life. Until a younger lab technician forgot to lock the door.

8702 had been gradually gnawing at his restraints during times he wasn't actively monitored and the unlocked door to the lab was his way out. Through a mix of moving through the vents and general stealth. Slink took the young lab technician hostage and had her drive the first escape ship he could find to freedom.

As it would turn out, the facility he escaped from was being shadow funded by one of the biggest med-tech companies in the galaxy. And just for the act of escaping 8702 had a big bounty on his head with the only silver lining being that he must be alive to collect. This drove 8702 to put on covering clothing which served little purpose other than hiding his identity, not that he would admit that. He also adopted the name Slink and came up with the story that he is just a severely malformed Sanken, another short and snouted race.

Slink doesn't have any higher aspirations as of yet. He is on the run and just trying to get by alive. Although its simplistic he just wants the freedom to live his life outside of a cage... And use explosives.

Slink first met the crew in a dingy bar having snuck in cheap drinks to sell inside and drink for himself. He remembers having a good time partying. It is uncharacteristic of Slink to party too hard in unfamiliar spaces, but he had a good feeling about the night.

Then his next memories were waking up in an unfamiliar engine room with the familiar feeling of artificial gravity. It didn't take him long to surmise that he was off-world and on the ship of some people he met the previous night. While busy being a stow away, he asked to join the crew. Slink had nothing better to do after all.

Powers/Skills:
- Minor telekinesis (roughly 10kg weight and 100m range focused on a single object. Not able to be effectively used in a combat sense due to a slow speed)
- Prehensile tail which can regrow if chopped off. Combined with the telekinesis, Slink can interact with two separate objects which having both of his hands free for combat. The tail is capable of supporting his own weight.
- Naturally stealthy due to short height and lean stature. This also means he can fit in tight spaces easier.
- Minor tech knowledge. He can certainly arm and defuse a bomb, but trying to create one would be a pretty ramshackle contraption and certainly not safe.
- Fairly useless in a fair fight. But can get the jump on people.

Equipment:
- A cloaking suit
- Two knives that can be magnetically returned to his hands. Magnetic apparatus also allow for wall and ceiling climbing. Provided hands aren't holding anything.
- Jetpack, high velocity and acceleration, low control and safety. The apex of Slink's ramshackle engineering.
- A lot of explosives

Other:
- Slink likes to gamble
- Slink is bad at gambling
- Slink is usually the first to loot. But he always makes a conscious effort to share as he cares little for possessions, he just likes the act of theft
- Rocket Raccoon is a big inspiration

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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by RBYDark

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RBYDark Demigod of Spite

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"Whatever it is, I can fix it. Except your personal problems. I'm not touching those."

Name: Skylar Wheeler

Nicknames/Titles: Snowy

Age: 19

Gender: Male

Ship Role: Engineer

Race: Human/Cyborg in the loosest sense of the word; years ago, he tried to make his own teleporter, and it almost worked. The machine was scrambled and mixed with its owner. Emergency surgery removed most of the large parts, but Skylar keeps finding pieces of wire coming out from under his skin and gums, and pieces of metal are still embedded in muscle and connective tissue. So, cyborg.

Personality: Skylar can come across as cold and distant at times, especially on the ship. Ask him how something works, and he opens up instantly. In reality, Skylar doesn't mind people, as long as they don't interrupt his work and is more than happy to explain how something works (except his equipment - trade secret!). The problem is just that everything's so loud that he doesn't want to start talking too and make it louder, not without reason. When he's not working, he's often drafting blueprints for some new device while wearing noise-canceling headphones. He has a distinct bent towards weaponry, though he doesn't usually care to talk weapons. It's just another oddity about him.

Biography: Skylar was born the younger of two brothers on a fairly technologically-driven planet. He was obsessed with the tech from a young age, already building simple clockwork devices by 10. Things changed when he was 12 and he attempted to make a teleporter. It proved functional enough to teleport Skylar and the machine itself into the same space. He ended up hospitalized for two days to let the various tissues grow back from whence they'd been displaced, after the surgery was completed to remove most of the device's casing, the coolant tubes, the control panel, and the screen. While in the hospital, he had a dream of a mysterious visitor who asked him what he wanted most. To be an expert at making things, of course. Then let it be, the stranger responded.

Well, Skylar assumes it was a dream anyways. All he knows is that when he got home, he could hear every machine part in the house talking to him. He nearly had a breakdown at the sheer volume of their combined voices. It took weeks but once he was able to somewhat tune out the noise, he managed to build a snake-shaped automaton that acted an awful lot like a real snake.

His parents, who had been lukewarm on his hobbies, suddenly began supporting his machine-building, selling his work and keeping the cash. His older brother was outraged - how dare they exploit their younger son like this? Especially when it was clear their younger son needed help, not to be encouraged. This made its way back to Skylar, and he and his brother eventually had a falling out. That said, he acknowledged his parents were exploiting him and so, as soon as he was able, he ran away from home.

Skylar's been supporting himself with repair jobs nd selling small machines that are quite efective at their job if you don't mind a few quirks. When Captain Kuro came looking for crew, Skylar was more than happy to leave his homeworld behind.

Powers/Skills: It's unverified, but Skylar insists machine parts can talk to him. He can supposedly use this ability to create functional, animal-acting robots and to fix larger machines with some ease. It's easy to chalk this up to being metaphorical or mental illness, but he genuinely believes it's literal and real. In addition, Skylar makes for an excellent hacker.

Equipment: A pair of goggles that let him examine things on a macroscopic to microscopic level and monitors his vitals; a pet robot snake called Beam who can be converted to an plasma arm cannon; and a pet robot bird called Rook that expels small explosives. Beyond these oddities, he keeps a repair kit and a portable hacker unit to help him with his work.

Other: His older brother has joined effectively the space cops and has a deep interest in bringing Skylar back home. In addition, Skylar wears his goggles most of the time due to his albinism "gifting" him sensitive eyes.

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Hidden 7 mos ago Post by Bastian

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Bastian Busy Overthinking

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artstation.com/llamas

"Whoa, whoa! Watch the controls!! You almost sent the ship into 12 g turn. Only I'm allowed to do that."

Name: Wekan-Jha Harek

Nicknames/Titles: Wex, Sparky, Slippery Little Shit

Age: 43, roughly 25 years old in human terms

Gender: Male

Ship Role: Helmsman

Race: Elkhane

4328 VB Vesper-C is a name (or rather, a designation) that holds no meaning to your average, working class, clock-punching spacer fresh out of the Belts. Not only because of its location - far out on the edge of charted space - but also for the large, helpful, bright-red 'HAZARDOUS' marking appended to it on the aforementioned space charts, which has the magical affect of causing most bridge navigation officers to avoid the system entirely, and then promptly forget about it thirty seconds after the fact.

Indeed, Vesper-C doesn't even mean anything to the native inhabitants of the planet, who instead refer to it by the same name that they have for thousands of years: Hane Jhal. Home Sea.

Only dedicated academics and explorers thus refer to the planet this as Vesper-C. Not because of a contempt for the clearly sapient, civilized inhabitants of the planet, but because the planet itself repels almost every attempt to explore and categorize it, preventing the proper name for it and its inhabitants to become widespread. Even though "Vesperians" have started to become more common sights in spaceports, battlefields and (unfortunately) slave pens the Galaxy over, their origins are still poorly understood.

Hane Jhal is a rocky, terrestrial world that is notably larger than average, and with an entirely different core composition than worlds such as Earth. As a result, its magnetic field is absurdly strong. Metals such as iron are impossible to use in any practical sense while on the surface, as they will inevitably end up flying away (usually ripping through something important on the way) in the direction of the poles. This, as you can imagine, has especially unfortunate implications when it comes to the arrival of the largely metallic landing craft of visitors. Everything carries an unseen electrical charge - even, and especially, the native lifeforms. Thunderstorms are especially powerful, flashy, and devastating. Most forms of short-range communication are completely useless, as well as unheard of by the Elkhane. And, while cosmic radiation has almost no effect on the majority of the planet, there are hidden bands of extremely concentrated radiation near the most extreme points of the poles and the equator that only the Elkhane know the exact location of. To top it all off, every night almost the entire planetary sky is covered in intense aurorae, almost entirely obscuring the night sky.

Knowing all of this, it's a wonder that the Elkhane ever made it to the greater Galactic stage at all.

Out of such a hostile environment came a resilient, yet isolationist dominant species.

The Elkhane evolved from a species of serpent-like creatures dwelling in the shallow waters of the world's oceans, not unlike the electric eels of Earth. Like almost all other creatures on the planet, they evolved a complex navigational system that allowed them to pinpoint their location on the planet using both the electrical currents in their immediate environment and the magnetic energy across the globe. It is very, very difficult for an Elkhani to get lost on their own turf. However, take one to space for the first time, and the sudden loss of these extra senses is enough to render them completely catatonic for hours, if not days.

Elkhane are bipedal and roughly human-shaped, though that is where the similarities end. They have tough, rubbery blue or green skin and a head that is craggy and eel-like with a strong jaw full of pointed teeth. Their eyes are solid yellow or green, and each one has a pattern on their skin that glows faintly in the dark with mesmerizing bioluminescent patterns. Because of this, stealth is not the ideal role for an Elkhani. In fact, those that find themselves in need of some discretion tend to wear full-body concealing suits out in public, in order to hide their glow.

Elkhane are particularly receptive to the electric current in their surroundings, having evolved with several special organs that allow manipulation of these currents in coordination with their nervous system. Almost every Elkhani has the ability to pull in a small amount of the electricity in their immediate surroundings in order to increase the speed that their brains process and react to information, leading to inhumanly quick reaction times and incredibly well-adjusted snap decisions. If they experience highly stressful or traumatic situations on the regular, some even have the ability to do the reverse, using their own bodies to provide extra power to nearby electronics. There are even mythical accounts of highly skilled individuals harnessing electricity directly to kill or incapacitate their enemies, though this is generally believed to be made up by storytellers for dramatic effect.

Because of the hostile conditions of their planet and the particular path their technological development took, Elkhane society is extremely isolationist, clan-based and static. They live in massive, heavily fortified cities in order to protect themselves from extreme weather phenomena and the rare enemy invasion, and prefer not to explore or wander outside of their own territories. Many Elkhani never actually end up interacting with others from a different state, being incredibly sensitive to differences in dialect, dress, customs and norms.

Again because of planetary conditions and because of this deeply-ingrained stagnancy, the Elkhane never attempted to leave their own planet. They became aware of life outside of their own world when the first abortive attempts at exploration occurred, with debris from rapidly dismantled starships raining down amongst their cities and oceans. When the first successful contact finally occurred, with certain species landing in entirely non-magnetic spacecraft to facilitate diplomacy, celebration occurred on both sides of the interaction. As things go, however, the peaceful delegation was soon followed by one with much less benevolent intentions.

A few years after these first few peaceful interactions, slavers and raiders using ships of a similar design ruthlessly attacked Hane Jhal, abducting massive groups of Elkhani to be sold as servants, highly-trained guards, or pit fighters, among other things. They set up permanent bases in conquered cities on the planet, beginning a long and bitter border war with the surviving and much better defended Elkhani states. This conflict still rages on, with intervention unlikely as the planet goes largely unnoticed by the higher powers meant to uphold justice among the factions of the Galaxy.

Personality: The little pilot has a notable reputation as being a bit dodgy, not really worthy of your trust or reliance. For the most part, this is true, as Wex is a criminal with little in the way of moral hangups when it comes to self preservation. If it comes down to it, he'll steal the boots off your feet and leave you stranded. However, he is also a consummate professional when it comes to his trade, and if his job is to pilot a crew to safely, he takes it very seriously as long as he is able. As well, despite his bad character, he does occasionally have soft spots for certain people, and he does not murder or maim in cold blood.

He covers his calculating true self with a talkative, joking and sarcastic persona, much to the annoyance of everyone within earshot of him at any given time. This, too, has a purpose: it allows him to identify those most likely to space him in any group of people so that he can better keep an eye on them.

Biography: Wex was only a child when he, along with most of those in his community, were taken off-world by slavers. Though only just poised to enter adolescence, the young Elkhani had already gained a certain reputation amongst those in his city. Unlike most of the Elkhane, Wex was something of a free spirit, resenting the unchanging conditions of his people's society and longing for freedom and adventure. His wish had been granted, in some strange and twisted sense. He was separated from his family and roughly introduced to Galactic society as he was forced to begin the life of a slave.

Somehow, though, the young man's spirit was not broken by such an awful experience. No stranger to stealing the land and watercraft of his own people before being taken, he had developed a natural affinity for learning to pilot almost anything. After spending some time familiarizing himself as much as he could with the new technology of his captors, he launched an escape attempt, piloting an unattended spacecraft away from the station he had been held on. However, he only made it so far, having no comprehension of things such as faster-than-light travel, before he was easily recaptured.

The punishment for escape was brutal. Wex spent time both in torture chambers and in the most brutal, backbreaking working conditions on the station. He also never saw any of his species again. However, after a year he managed to devise a second escape attempt, which this time managed to succeed. However, his time as a slave had changed him. Though still using his carefree and jovial nature as a shield, Wex was now someone permanently in "survival mode," ready to do anything, or abandon anyone, in order to continue his existence. Having nothing to his name when he reached his first free spaceport, he managed to sign on as a pilot for a freighter. Though his piloting skills were noted to be exceptional, his reputation as a liar, a thief and a cheat ensured he did not last long. As the years went by, Wex continued to drift from bad crews, to worse crews, embedding himself deeper into the unsavory underbelly of the Galaxy whilst never staying in the same place for very long lest someone recognize his face as a fugitive slave with an outstanding bounty.

Though he never managed to stay in a crew's good graces for long, Wex survived on account of his distrustful nature and his reputation as a fantastic pilot, making him an invaluable asset. After a particularly close call on a botched job, Wex again found himself unemployed when he was contacted by Captain Kura. With precious little in the way of other options and the constant pressure on his back to keep from staying in the same place for too long, Wex immediately signed on as pilot of the Galatea, and helmsman for this strange new crew.

Powers/Skills:

Electrical Manipulation: Like the rest of his species, Wex has the ability to manipulate electric currents in his vicinity. For him, this usually is used to assist in his piloting, though it can have some detrimental effects. Bridge crews have often complained that, during particularly intense situations requiring complex flight maneuvers, their bridge consoles mysteriously short out. The lighting in the bridge has also been known to flicker and dim, and the electronics suddenly make strange noises at odd times when Wex is sitting in the pilot's chair. Wex has developed a particular skill at flying craft even without the use of some critical subsystems because of this. Because of his treatment as a slave, Wex is one of the few that can also occasionally cause the reverse effect. He likes to boast that he can make the engines on a small craft "go to 11."
Raw Piloting Ability: Even among a species noted for their capability as pilots, Wex is among the best, having been behind the controls of some craft or another since he was a child.
Shooting: What he lacks in physical strength, Wex makes up for in his ability to outdraw most opponents, firing off deadly and accurate shots with his sidearm before they can react.
Loudmouth: On account of never receiving a formal education, Wex has an extremely basic vocabulary. On the other hand, though, he has picked up an encyclopedic knowledge of various curses, rude phrases, and obscene gestures in the common languages as well as the obscure, and is able to string them together with devastating effect. His inability to ever shut up pairs rather well with this particular talent.

Equipment:

Prototype Plasma Magnum: This experimental sidearm was one of the things that Wex swiped during his second escape attempt from the slavers that ripped him from his homeworld (who had themselves previously swiped it from a military convoy), and it has been at his side ever since. Eight shots per cylinder, with a hair-trigger - this baby can punch a hole through the thickest of alien noggins, provided they're uncovered. The barrel is as big around as his hand, so it cannot be concealed, but oftentimes this works in his favor as its presence on his hip keeps the dumber brutes on any given crew from trying to take Wex out of the picture for whatever reason.
Magnetic Neural Compensator: Fits around the back of Wex's head, and is usually concealed under a wide-brimmed hat. This device is essential to allowing the Elkhani to function normally, as it prevents the usually disorienting side effects of being deprived of the strong magnetic field of his native environment. Without it, he will be subject to extreme confusion, lack of coordination, and severe headaches, to name a few.
Flash Grenades: Think fast! *BANG*

These aren't particularly useful for many situations, but one or two of them are easy enough to conceal and invaluable for allowing a certain criminal to get out of a tough spot.

Other:

Wex is only partially literate in anything other than his native language. Who has time to read, anyway?
While the average height for males of his species is only around 5'5", he's a particularly small and scrawny specimen at around 5'2".
There's a slave brand on the small of his back which is typically concealed by heavy clothing. I mean, is it cold on this ship, or what? Brr.

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Hidden 7 mos ago → 7 mos ago Post by Exodia Relent

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Exodia Relent

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"Why make it fancy when its just easier to pull the trigger?"

Character

Name: Aftershot

Nicknames/Titles: Small Shadow, Bot, Comet

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Ship Role: Marksman/Stealth Operations

Race: Cybertronian (otherwise known as Bots)

Cybertronian History

(There is some stuff changed here so… Let’s let an on and off again fan come up with this)

Cybertronians are this race of mechanical beings originating from Cybertron, with the ability to transform into a variety of different forms, though typically they stick to vehicles. They also primarily stick to one form per bot, as any more could lead to mental or physical torment. Their bodies can be modified to store their built in weapons, navigation, and flying systems, with almost all of them having the ability to fly while in robot mode, though only for short distances.

Cybertronians do not need typical things like food, oxygen, etc that many of the other races would need to survive. Instead, they consume energy to power themselves, with their preferred source of energy being aptly named Energon, which is a very fine and volatile gem-like resource filled with disruptive energy, sometimes even being too dangerous if consumed raw. Yet it provides the most amount of energy for a Cybertronian’s large body.

Speaking of, their physique typically has the bots being on the taller end, with the average height being that of a two story building and many of their alternative forms being vehicles for smaller races to ride around in. However, due to recent Energon shortages, and reliance on other power sources, many have taken to adopting smaller forms for ease of travel and more fuel efficiency. These forms typically are the size of an average humanoid, though they are fiercely dense. Weapons are also typically implemented within the Cybertronian built for war, with their arm often swapping between a normal hand, blaster, and some sort of melee weapon. Many non-combat bots have used this feature to allow them to quickly have access to the tool they need.

Cybertronians are advanced enough to come up with space travel and a lot of energy based weapons. They also have a rich sense of culture, exploring different avenues of music, art, etc. Many of them are pacifists, preferring to be scholars or architects, though there are enough stubborn blockheads and “wreckers,” a term often meant to refer to the more battle ready individuals, that they have developed multiple arenas for fighting.

However, they had a very harsh cast system set in place, where a Cybertronian is stuck in a job that they were designed for, and could never progress outside of that position. This has led to a massive civil war that span multiple decades, and even a couple of planets, before eventually coming to an end a year back, with compromises to try and eliminate the cast system for a more democratic vote, and allowing bots to do what they want, while being upgraded to perform certain tasks, with the option of changing it later.

Personality

Aftershot is a very serious, solemn, and reserved type of character. Actions speak louder than words to him, and he tries to get others to go along with this endeavor. He does fine many of the juvenile antics overly distracting and entirely unnecessary to get the job across, and may often prefer to work alone despite all that the team has done. Its just easier and more efficient that way. 

Aftershot did go through the downsizing process, and does not regret it a bit. He did everything for his native race, his friends, his family. Shrinking down to give them more energy was a choice he was willing to make, even if some older bots make fun of him for it. This mindset also led as to why he joined the Decepticon movement in the first place, to overthrow the caste system and get bots a proper place.

Despite the rougher exterior, Aftershot is just a very sad bot, reminiscing about the war his people has gone through,  and being one of the major leading members of this tyrannical leadership, having caused many different events due to his various modes and abilities. Aftershot was not a nice person, and his actions had consequences. Right now, he is just trying to look for redemption.

Aftershot does despise his weapon mode, as he claims it takes all his freedom and energy to deliver some powerful assaults. Using it too much can leave him feeling quite drained or sick as well.

Aftershot does often pick up various hobbies, ranging from card games to music, with it bouncing back and forth. He doesn’t want to talk about what happens, and prefers to keep his mind busy.

Biography

Aftershot was born on Cybertron, and almost immediately set into being a working class carrier bot, whose purpose was to deliver packages to different corresponding bots on the planet, or in other words: A delivery bot. Through this, Aftershot constantly saw the tribulations of his fellow Cybertronians, with many being left behind and unable to get out of their poverty and energy deficient ways. He was even looked down upon due to his more menial task that they could program other drones to do. 

To vent his frustrations, Aftershot often went to the arena, watching as many strong and powerful bots clashed against each other. While he could never participate himself, being well under the weight requirement, he witnessed the sheer glory of the fight. Aftershot was a big fan of the ring leader, seeing his ploy and battle prowess.

After a while though, the reigning champ stopped coming. Doing his usual rounds, Aftershot noticed the champion again, this time on a monitor depicting his philosophy and how the world should change. ZNo bot would be left behind, and he was willing to go to the head council to pronounce this with a good friend of his that works in the data banks. Stocked for this as he wanted to see a better place for his people, Aftershot quickly joined this Decepticon side, and went to every rally he could.

Then the day came. The council had finally listened and allowed the champion and his friend to talk to them about changing the state of Cybertron. It was a long debate, but eventually the champion walked out. A solemn look was across his face as he mentioned to the crowd of Decepticons that the people on the council have ruled against the masses, and it was time to stand up for the little people. Everything that could be said to get the Decepticons to revolt, he said it, and they did.

So started the Cybertronian Civil War. Aftershot quickly enrolled to help the Decepticons on the belief that the council didn’t hear them. While Aftershot was never much of a fighter, he quickly rose through the ranks due to his unique speed and a surprisingly intuitive use of blasters. He even managed to hide and store away data to a very important military ship the Autobots used. However, this was never enough, and, feeling like he had to step up his game, Aftershot volunteered for some tricky augments.

The first few were simple enough. Obtain a throwable weapon that could be used in melee combat? Yes.Some more weapon augments for situational sniping? Yes.  Stealth option? Yes. While all painful in their own right, they definitely seemed to help, even though Aftershot would’ve preferred a canon similar to the champ’s or EMP blasters similar to his second in command. The next two were the hardest and most painful.

While Aftershot was willing to shrink down to conserve energy, he didn’t expect it to involve quite as many shocks and dangerous experiments. Can always blame the lead scientist for his more deranged experiments for the logical mind. However, he didn’t expect his third mode to be added in. Instead of being a small ship, now Aftershot could transform into a miniature turret for the smaller races to use, or retract that in to attach to the bigger bots and be used either as a secondary gun, expanding his energy in exchange for saving their own ammo and energy, or for augmenting their assaults.

Despite despising this form, Aftershot tried to make good use of it when he can, even joining the front lines every now and again, and working alongside the champ himself in infiltrating a large transport vehicle that had a vast amount of Energon and information. Being used to kill the crew though…

Aftershot slowly started having doubts about the “revolution” as the champ kept calling it, but kept up his job at infiltrating different places, using his smaller size to sneak around larger bots. He even had to pull a few unique assassinations on key Autobot helpers across the two other planets that slowly became intertwined in this war. While it became easier for him, and he started adopting the efficient way as to not cause more pain to the victim, the dread was still felt.

It was close to the end of this war that Aftershot finally realized the truth. After infiltrating the Autobot headquarters, he monitored a meeting between the head bot, an upgraded version of the champ’s old friend, and some of his ground troops. Apparently the war had left major devastation in its wake, almost completely wiping out Cybertron’s lower class and running its energy dry, while devastating the population of a nearby planet, and the areas under the champ’s rule were in a much more tyrannical leadership role than expected. Many of the supposed leaders and heroes of the Decepticons were brutalizing a lot of the enslaved bits, with the lead scientist even changing some of the Autobot’s strongest soldiers into mindless beasts to turn back on them.

Ashamed for what has happened, and what he had helped, Aftershot fled. He grabbed some energon packs and kept flying out into space, using his stealth upgrades to bypass many of the blockages made up by both factions.

It must’ve been a few months later that a weakened Aftershot caught wind of the war being over while sitting at a small diner. The news broadcast even show the Autobot leader detailing the crimes, with a sorrowful look on the champ’s face. Despite meaning well, the champ got power hungry and wanted to enslave those beneath him, turning the caste system around. Though, upon feeling what it was like to be subjected beyond his control, the champ turned himself in. Many of the bots are still at large, with Aftershot’s name appearing with it. He couldn’t turn back now.

He managed to find the captain a few weeks later. Despite not entirely being what both of them expected, Aftershot’s ability with weapons and stealth came in handy enough times to be willingly let aboard the crew. Now, Aftershot often spends time in his room, alternating between different hobbies or fascinations to keep his mind busy, or practicing in the shooting range.

Powers/Skills

Flight: Both in his robot and vehicle mode, Aftershot can fly, though at much slower speeds in his robot mode.
Transformation: 
Ship: Aftershot is able to transform into a small ship, allowing others to ride him. Of course it comes with its own unique blasters for aerial or space combat. He is also able to use his stealth mode to turn invisible in this mode.
Robot: His typical form. In this mode he walks around and talkies like a typical humanoid or alienoid being. He is able to retract his wings in a bit to give him a more sleeker form.
Weapon: Forgoing everything else in his arsenal, Aftershot is able to transform into a large canon that can attach to other machinery, given there is a port, or a turret for others to use. While he can still talk, Aftershot cannot move his body, except to transform out of it, but he can maneuver the turret head into whatever position he needs.
Stealth Option: Aftershot, through augmentation, has the ability to cloak himself and make him appear invisible to both sonar and the visual eye. However, doing this for an extended period of time does take a lot of energy. It is unable to work in weapon mode.

Equipment

(These are built in, but since they can be seen on the surface when Aftershot uses them, they are listed here)
Blaster Hand: Aftershot is able to transform one or both of his hands into blasters, allowing him to shoot energy blasts separately stored as ammo from them. They can also be extended and given increased power for longer ranged shots.
Ninja Star Augments: A bit of an odd design choice, Aftershot chose to go for small round indention in his arms that can project spinning discs that have the ability to extend claws. He tends to use these to climb, cut, or even throw for less loud ranged options. He is able to remotely control them as well, having them return when needed. The discs also have in built cameras that allow Aftershot to see through them with his Black Visor, though only being able to do so with one at a time. Both holsters carry 5 each, for a total of 10.
Black Visor: A small visor that can pop down to cover Aftershot’s eyes. It provides a heads up display, a visual feed through his ninja stars, and a communication tool to interact with others.

Other

While I used a bunch of names from the actual Transformers Universe, those are free to change.
I did want to leave the name vague for champ, right hand man, and scientist in case Mintz wants to go crazy here, but generally they are meant to be Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave respectively. Best friend for the champ of course being Orion Pax, later known as Optimus Prime.
More of a cosmetic thing, when Aftershot wants to go into combat mode, two metal plates pop out from the side and cover his mouth, while his black visor pops down, fully covering him.
Aftershot’s form now has him standing at roughly 5’11, with his weight being about 300 pounds, though still maintaining a fit physique. Its just all metal baby.

Hidden 6 mos ago Post by Blizz

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Blizz Undefeated Grandmaster of Gif Warfare / 4-0

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Bio

 
Art by none other than me

 "Somewhere out there, underneath a different sky full of different stars, I think they sing of me. They’ll sing of us together one day, if we make it far enough."


Name
Strata

Nicknames
The Drifter from the Light

Starface

"Arveia-toth"

Age
108

Gender
Nonbinary | They/Them

Ship Role
Singer of shanties, pleaser of pissed off, people pisser-off of pleased people, and knower of things.

Race
Strata is a plasmoid. Plasmoids are a species of formless, gelatinous creatures with enough intelligence to equal other sentient creatures. Plasmoids lack a defined shape, and therefore are capable of some minor shapeshifting. Their bodies are made of plasma, as the name implies, and the only organ in their body is what is called a ganglia. This can be found where a human's heart is, and simulates everything from five senses to every function needed for survival. The plasma that makes their body simulates touch, and is incredibly stiff. Because it's essentially slime, it means bullets or other puncture wounds are largely harmless to them. Pieces of their bodies cut away can be stuck back together with some effort, and a plasmoid is never truly dead unless the core in their body is destroyed completely.

Plasmoids tend to take on characteristics of the environment they live in, which is why Strata looks like a walking galaxy.


Personality
Strata is the definition of “chaotic neutral.” They hold no respect or disapproval for authority figures, they make friends and enemies as their heart desires, and are as honest or cheating as is suitable for a given moment. Strata is naturally an easygoing and free-spirited slime creature, and easy to get along with despite their track record of gaslighting the most threatening people in a room. When Strata takes a liking to people, they follow them like lifelong friends with the intention of being there for the laughs and shenanigans. The stories that are to be told and the battles to be fought are like guilty pleasures to Strata, and are as tempting to them as the prospect of getting drunk is to someone after a hard day’s work.

Strata doesn’t seem to take many things seriously unless they threaten someone’s life. If it’s their life on the line, the first sign of Strata acknowledging so is a sudden spike in humor, and maniacal cackling that someone usually needs vocal chords for. Strata treats moments of peril and disadvantage like pure comedy, and these are the times when their less restrained side can be seen. When Strata is in the right situations, they’ll go from the calm and mellow bard with a story to tell to the maniac that jumps into the mouth of a giant monster just to throw a grenade down its throat. Strata’s philosophy of life is to never let it get one over on you; If you laugh at death as hard as you do at a man falling over drunk, you stay winning either way.

Powers/Skills
Shapechanging
While Strata can’t impersonate someone else, they are capable of altering their body’s shape in some ways. This can include growing extra arms, becoming a ball of sludge on the floor, or oozing their way through holes in a floor. If you ever wonder why Strata doesn’t wear pants, this is why.

Plasmic Body
Certain things, such as the vacuum of space or a lack of breathable air, tend to do little to affect Strata. They can survive being stabbed or slice up, but taking out their ganglia would be like decapitating a human. It’s also pretty easy to imprison Strafa. Plasmoids revert to a blob state in their sleep, making them very suitable for being put in a glass jar and stored on a shelf. 

On top of all that, plasmoids might be hard to kill, but they literally don’t have muscles. Don’t bet on Strata in an arm wrestling competition.

Musician
Drifting alone through space for a century, you tend to get good at entertaining yourself. Strata is a damn fine musician capable of playing virtually any instrument. Their personal favorite are the ones with strings.

Been Around the Block
Strata’s older than your grandparents, and probably their grandparents too. There isn’t much that surprises them anymore. You name it, they’ve probably heard of it once or twice before.

Equipment
Mysterious Lute
Something Strata has had with them for decades now. It resembles a guitar, and has a very foreign and almost regal aesthetic. Strata claims was once a vessel for magical power that they were gifted when they saved a priest from a burning ship, but no longer has any power left. A wild claim, and likely just another story, but it sounds beautiful in Strata’s hands.

Laser Gun
A very simple and mundane pistol that fires lasers. It has six shots that it can fire before it must be reloaded. Surprisingly enough, Strata doesn’t haven’t a fantastical story attached to this weapon, and according to them, they bought it in a back alley somewhere next to a bakery. It’s always good to have an actual weapon.

Storybook
Strata’s pride and joy. A very old, and very full notebook full of everything Strata has done in the last century. It is full of all manners of things, ranging from accounts of naval warfare to the last wishes of old friends whose names have been forgotten by all but Strata. Somewhere in this book’s few thousand pages is the exact hand that Strata used to win a poker match against a dragon… Assuming such a tale is true.

Biography
Many, many years ago, there was an empire. This empire was one of truants who held a galaxy in its hands and devoured planets a whim, with not so much as a passing though spared for its trillions of victims.

This empire no longer exists.

The legend says that after the empire was destroyed, its capital fell inwards to the star which it orbited, and from the resulting chaos emerged a meteor. On that meteor was a creature who would sing of lost comrades and freedom for decades, streaking across the dead empire’s territory in such a spectacle that many believed a god had fell from the heavens. Alas, that creature was not a god, and would never be seen again.

Billions upon billions of light years away from the greatest tale Strata ever witnessed, the meteor they rode through space one day crashed against a planet in this region of space. When Strata managed to jump off, they landed on solid ground. Strata stayed on that rock for a few hours, reflecting on the events of their journey, and mourning the fact that they’d never hear the ending of that story. And then they collected their things, and did as they’d always done: Move on.

Strata’s life was a long and erratic one. Years would pass without any interaction with intelligent life in space, and then they would spend a decade living more thrills than one lifetime could handle. In recent memory, they traveled from place to place, entertaining crowds across the galaxy with their songs, and getting into more bar fights than they could count. One of these bar fights was where they met the Star-Breakers. A drunken rat thought Strata insulted his mother, and Strata simply clocked him over the head with their lute. After the incident, Strata offered to join the group and get off that rock to start the next chapter of their life.

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Hidden 6 mos ago Post by The Man Emperor

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"We will bring peace after we kill- I mean, shove the gun barrel of democracy down the collective throat of the current government."

Name: Kelmandrar Hryoc

Nicknames/Titles: Kelmie, Bird Person, Nevermore, CAW CAW, Chicken, Birb, 

Age: 97

Gender: A Man

Ship Role: Member. Could go to be a marine or fighter pilot, though he clearly likes to marine more.
Race: Kul'Zarrah - Translates to "Children of the Void"

An enigma of the galaxy, it is said that this race of crowfolk came from a star system located within intergalactic space. Those who are present in the Milky Way are hypothesized to either be the survivors of some catastrophe, or a mercantile group that split off from mainstream society. The Kul'Zarrah are famously unforthcoming when it comes to their origins, instead speaking in convoluted riddles when asked about it. Or it could be that they themselves don't even remember.

They are divided into two subspecies. First are the Sarveli; biologically immortal, psychic, enigmatic, needlessly mysterious, possessing glorious wings, and some of the biggest racists you'll ever meet.

On the other hand are the humbler Hursar. The vast majority of them don't have psychic powers, and those who do are weaker than their Sarveli counterparts. The Hursar also lack wings, and aren't immortal (though they still live for around 500 years), but they have supremely perfect memory recall and a sweet disposition. In addition, they are far more numerous. It is unknown just what caused the divergence of the two, but rumors say that it was socioeconomic classes, with the Sarveli being the rich folk that thought dying of old age was cringe.

A high resistance to radiation is how they have inhabited the galactic core for at least five thousand years. It is thought that they genetically modified themselves during their journey from intergalactic space. They can walk around a leaking nuclear reactor without any ill effects.

A curious exception in this galaxy, the Kul'Zarrah practice democracy, with an elected Senate and Chancellor leading them.

The Kul'Zarrah average between 5'2" to 5'8" for the Hursar, while the Sarveli tend to be around 6'1" to 7'.

The Kul'Zarrah are an entirely voidborne race, living in scattered, continent-sized chains of titanic space stations orbiting stars. They are complete with their own ecosystems and geographical features, such as forests, plains, mountain ranges, and seas. Needless to say, these stations are self-sufficient. They're also warp capable, so good luck trying to commit war crimes on them.

Curiously enough, they are most common in the galactic core, forming the Convocation of Kul'Zarr as their united government.

Kul'Zarrah warships are renowned for high quality throughout the galaxy, and are regularly hired by other races to participate in planetary invasions, convoy raids, and full-blown Interstellar wars.

Personality: Kelmandrar is a pretty light-hearted kind of guy, often cracking jokes for no apparent reason other than… well, there's no reason, actually. Either way, being a Hursar Kul'Zarrah, he has what one could describe to be a chill disposition. He has been described as slow to anger, though that just means that pushing over the edge will be extra… spicy.  

Nevertheless, having served in the navy as a marine over his long life, Kelmandrar is a fierce warrior. He often taunts and insults his enemies in the middle of a fight, goading them to attack without sufficient preparation. This tactic has been effective at times; sometimes, it's not. 

In general, you'd want to keep this Kul'Zarrah around. He listens to the raging vents of other crew members, offers hugs when someone is sad, and will kill your enemies while calling them a bunch of weaklings. Who doesn't want that? 

Biography: Kelmandrar hails from the Sar-Vantha Coalition, one of the many Kul'Zarrah station chains that lay within the deepest regresses of the galactic core. There, he lived in what was one of the most dangerous regions of the galaxy. Deadly stellar phenomena, such as gamma ray bursts, supernovae, nebulae, cosmic radiation, and so on were part of everyday life for the Kul'Zarrah of the Sar-Vantha.

Luckily, or unfortunately, depending on your perspective, Sar-Vantha shared the star system with a human colony planet. The humans of that world were descended from a fallen colony ship, which had been lost for years at that point. The Hursar Kul'Zarrah of the Sar-Vantha aided them in surviving on their new planet, while the Sarveli watched from afar with thinly veiled contempt. 

And so, Kelmandrar was born into this whole affair. Having a normal childhood and adolescence aside (which, of course, included a 'phase'), he would grow to join the Sar-Vantha navy. He was a marine at first, defending the armed trade ship Solar Seeker from pirates as it travelled from the core to the galactic arms. After about two decades, Kelmandrar went on to become the marine chief of the cruiser Eye of the Storm, which would routinely sortie out to purge pirates and alien monstrosities. The Eye of the Storm also helped defend other worlds from invasions, for the right price, of course.

The turning point would be when the Eye, having been richly paid to participate in a planetary invasion, nuked several cities (probably killing a few million or so) at the behest of their employers. Kelmandrar despised that action, as their contract supposedly didn't have that in mind, but the captain wanted the extra money, either way. And so, Kelmandrar left the Eye of the Storm's crew, not even bothering to leave a letter of resignation. He just left aboard an FTL capable starfighter, wandering from station to station before eventually coming across the Star Breakers.
Powers/Skills:
Path of the Witch: Kelmandrar is one of the few psychics of the Hursar Kul'Zarrah. This isn't too apparent, though. Instead of flashy lightning or cackling pyromania, it consists of short term precognition and enhanced reflexes. He can see attacks coming in about 2 seconds before they hit, making him a menace in a duel. However, multiple opponents attacking at the same time can easily overwhelm this future sight. 

Radiation Resistance: Just like the rest of his race, he doesn't give a damn about radiation. He can walk around Chernobyl and simply laugh at its feeble attempts to kill him.
Way of the Sword: Kelmandrar is great at melee. He just is.

The Gun: As a former marine, Kelmandrar is a decent marksman, though he's no sniper. 

Starfighter Pilot: He's no fighter ace, but he certainly knows how to use one and dogfights reasonably well.

Equipment:

Chainsword: Kelmandrar's melee weapon of choice is a blade with superheated, revolving teeth. It can grind through most body armor, and will cauterize any wounds it inflicts (while grinding up the insides, because, well, teeth). 

Blast Rifle: Versatile, reliable, and.. did I say it was reliable? This laser weapon has a rate of fire comparable to an assault rifle, and a high shot capacity. Shots could be concentrated for more penetration and damage, but it becomes a single shot rifle in this mode. 

Powered Armor: The main benefit this has is making him taller than he actually is defence. It's a light variant of powered suits all things considered, with protection mainly derived from the shield generator built into it. It can shrug off quite a few rounds, but slower moving things, such as melee weapons, can simply bypass the shield.
Other: Kelmandrar is 5'4". Weight is around 58 kg.
My favored sci-fi works? Hmmm, The Expanse, Space Battleship Yamato, Warhammer 40k, and League of Legends Star Trek.

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