Kassarock

The Pickers

@Bourgeoisie Nice reference to the Levellers uprising, gotta be one of my favourite periods in post-medieval English History. That or the Chartist uprising in Newport.

The Pickers

@R31GNI say generally its good form to give everyone a chance to post first, but sometimes it depends on who your interacting with at the moment, so if its just you and another character are just sitting in a room talking, its probably okay to not wait for everyone to post before continuing your conversation. However if there's big stuff for people to react to, its probably best to wait - depending on how people play.

See I like to play where each post incrementally adds something to the whole, so when I show up in the common room, the people who are there are already there and I also interact with an action (the pilot's FTL jump). So if something big happens, you react, someone else reacts, and then you react to their reaction, it means that people generally have to then write lots about their reactions to your reactions but without you ever noticing them cos you've already posted. That's why its better to wait. It makes stuff harder for other people and doesn't look good IMO if you dont.

Some people prefer to do stuff so that its like all posts are happening simultaneously and no one is just noticing what everyone else is doing, but I think this is a lazy and bad way to role play.

Tales of Lucenrai: The Fallen Kingdom

Since that person you're waiting on hasn't shown up in four days, might I be so bold as to offer up a character sheet and throw my hat into the ring of potential candidates for their replacement?

Lem Arronson

Appearance:


Lem is a grizzled and older man, with a tanned, scarred face and prominent crow’s feet. His head and beard shaved to rough iron grey stubble. His eyes and mouth look hard set, but not without a hint of humour in them occasionally. His nose has been broken at least once and should he smile he is missing at least one of his front molars. In his right ear there is thick hoop of dull yellow gold.

Lem stands above average height, maybe a touch below six feet, and his solidly built. His arms not covered by his armour or habitual leather jerkin are corded with ropey muscle and marked by tattoos, like the barbarians of the east wear. Travelling further down his arms to Lem’s hands the astute will notice that one of tips of his callused fingers is missing and he wears a wide band of silver and brass on one of his ring fingers. When they walk they noticeably limp with their right leg.

Name:

Lem Arronson

Age:

47 or 48

Personality:

Lem Arronson is hard man, he’s lived a hard life and a long one at that considering his profession. He’s tough and reliable, diligent, someone that you can depend upon but will equally require you to work hard and do your fair share – he gives no free rides. He speaks little and sleeps less, he’s patient and quiet, this leads him to be a cautious (yet highly skilled) fighter on the battlefield. After all, there is some truth in the saying that there are old mercenaries, and there bold mercenaries, but there are no old bold mercenaries.

Despite his gruffness and unyielding nature, Lem ultimately has a good heart. If one has the patience to listen to him then he imparts advice freely, and pretty much always speaks honestly. He has even served a sort of mentor in the past to younger men following similar paths to the one he has travelled. He has dry sense of humour, although it tends towards the more grim and macabre end of the spectrum – another side effect of spending a life killing people for money.

Backstory:

Lem’s story is a common one. He is not an orphan, his young life was not filled with hardship or tragedy or formative suffering. He was the son of peasants, and he lived in a small village in the north of Edessa where his father herded flocks of sheep for the local feudal lord and his mother worked all day in their vegetable garden. The eldest of four children that made it past infancy, he worked in the fields and pastures from a young age. Lem did not live a miserable or particularly hard life, sometimes the winters and springs were lean, and sometimes they were not. Ultimately they scraped a decent living for folks such as themselves and his family were content. Lem however, was not.

He was adventurous boy, always dreaming beyond the valleys of his childhood to the world that was outside. He wanted to see it, he wanted to be more than just another peasant, more than his father; he wanted to live. His father was not a bad man, but they clashed a lot, and sometimes he beat Lem, and sometimes Lem deserved it. One day after feeling particular discontent, his arm particularly sore from a slap of his father’s crook, Lem decided to leave his family and the life he faced ahead of him as another peasant farmer- for good.

He ran away south before is fourteenth name day, taking little with him except the clothes on his back. He had little idea of where he was going, stealing and working as a day labourer to get by. For a couple of months he lived like vagabond until one night, while sleeping in a haystack he was seized by a group of recruiters for the King’s Army, had the shilling forced upon him and was pressed ganged into the service of the crown.

Now while this might seem as a set back from most people, it was really the best thing that could have happened to Lem. He was fed and clothed, given tasks to set his mind and energy to, and most of all he was given a life beyond working a plough or crook or scythe. He saw Edessa, fought in a fair number of skirmishes, he became a fair fighter and then a good one. After his ten years were up and he was given the choice between going back to the life of a civilian or continuing as a solider, Lem chose the latter. Although this time, he was not in service to the King, instead he joined one of the free companies of Edessa – mercenaries who do not fight for crown or glory, but for gold.

Mercenary life suited Lem even better than an enlisted man, he earned more and saw even more of the world. For six years he warred his way through the eastern lands, fighting alongside the nomads and barbarians in their never ending conflicts. He made a fortune and returned to Edessa, there was a woman for a while, talk of settling down and having a good, respectable life, but something went wrong and within a year Lem had drank his fortune away and returned to a life on the road. He fought wherever there was fighting needed to be done and in the process made a fair reputation and name for himself amongst the circles in which soldiers of fortune tend to move.

All of this continued uninterrupted until three years ago, when Lem’s horse was killed beneath him during a skirmish on the Welds border. A novice spearman, their very first battle in fact, stepped out from behind a tree as Lem thundered past and skewered the horse in its chest. The beast fell, and Lem wasn’t quick enough to leap clear of the saddle. It landed on his right leg, crushing his knee into a bloody, broken mess. Lem survived the battle, but he would never be the graceful and truly formidable fighter he had once been.

He served on as a mercenary though, he was experienced, he could lead and train men and was still a good enough sword – especially when in the saddle. But when his band was called south again to fight the orcs, he left them and returned to capital. He said that fighting orcs was different to men, and that he was getting too old and would be of no use to them. But everyone knew that was a lie, no one was sure why he went back, but he stayed in the city until the last moment, leaving with the very last caravan on the road north to Ardel.

Skills and Abilities:

• Accomplished Swordsman - Lem has been fighting on and off the battlefield for over 30 years now. If you can do something with a sword that he doesn’t know about, it’s probably not worth knowing. His main areas of expertise are when it comes to sword and shield or sword and dagger, less accomplished with two handed swords or other combinations.
• Professional Rider – Lem is very comfortable on a horse, having ridden in both combat and non-combat situations.
• Professional Spearman – Lem is also skilled in the use of the spear or lance, especially when on horseback.
• Journeyman Healing – A practical knowledge of how to stich and dress flesh wounds, set and splint broken bones, and relocate joints develops over the years when you main source of income involves getting hurt a lot.
• Novice Huntcraft – Foraging and scavenging food in the field is important, however Lem lacks any real skill with the bow, so they are limited to snaring rabbits and trying (often unsuccessfully) to spear large game.
• Novice Armourer – A basic knowledge of how to reshape dented plates and repair rivets on chain mail while on the move. Only quick fixes really until a professional blacksmith can be found.

Equipment:

• Armour - Lem's armour consists of three layers, a basic thin padded and quilted arming jacket and trousers, over which goes a full length mail hauberk with mail leggings and coif. The topmost layer is a coat of plates sewn into leather, steel vambrices, greeves, a mis matched set of pauldrons (one iron, one steel) and a iron open faced helmet with a nose guard. One his feet he wears hobnailed leather boots and his hands are covered with leather gaunlets with a few small plates sewn into them. Much of the armour is used and has beaten and rough look to it, but is servicable.
• Arming Sword - A one handed steel Arming sword, a little nicked, but very sharp still. Plain guard and sharkskin grip.
• Dirk - A steel dagger for small tasks or to be used in his off hand
• Shield - A round oaken shield with an iron rim that can be strapped to the arm.
• Boar spear - A short iron spear hafted with ash that can be used as weapon or for hunting
• Coin purse - A small purse fat with silver and copper coins, additionally Lem has a few gold coins sewn into the lining of one of his jerkins and a garnet hidden in his left boot.
• Horse - A relatively old grey mare called Dutchess, Lem's horse for the last three years. She carries a set of saddlebags that contain:
  • Two sets of small clothes, two leather studded jerkins (one fur lined), two sets of breaches, one ragged woollen cloak
  • Animal gut thread, a neede and some linen strips
  • A small hammer and set of tongs, a small bottle of oil, some rags, a whetstone
  • A bed roll and a tarred sheet of canvas
  • A water skin, a wine skin, a small leather flask of 'fire water' (a strong alcohol from Varyan)
  • A few days worth of dried provisions (bread, cured meat, hard cheese, dried apples etc)

P.S can provided images for the various pieces of armour if anyone is having trouble visualising

P.S.S studded leather is a stupid concept, but since the pic has it I feel obliged to put it in

The Pickers

Ah shit that was a mispost - not yet finished, give me like 20 minutes

EDIT: All done, not gonna add to that anymore

Also! You thought Z liked to sleep because they were lazy, nope, unconcious hive mind reliving past lives and having semi-religious experiences.

The Pickers

Z

'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.' - George Santayana
____________________

Z was running through a jungle. It was dark, the trees dripped with rains that smelt like copper and the ground squelched beneath their bare clawed feet. They look up into the canopy - a thousand eyes stare back, reflecting red in the guttering flame of the torch that they hold lofted above their head. Underfoot the ground gives way to bog, still they press on. The bog gives way to a mangrove swamp, still they press on. The water closes above their head - everything turns to black.

The waves crash on the shore as they all pour from the landing craft into the noon sun. As they thrash their way through the water, the alien next to Z turns to them and smiles a wide, gleeful smile. Suddenly the smile is gone - there is a hole where it used to be. Suddenly the air is filled with bullets and fire. The alien blinks twice before crashing down into the surf, its three black legs folding beneath it gracelessly. Z turns back towards the beach and begins to charge forward, firing into the tree line.

They are all here, all their siblings - they are whole. Z looks up with up through nine hundred pairs of eyes at the Holy Ones. They shine with a golden light as the purple sky around them crackles with red lightning. They surge forward to meet the Gods...

And then Z wakes up.

____________________

"This is your Captain speaking, I want everybody in the commons room immediately. Come or be absent, but don't be late. I'm locking the door after five minutes."

The crackle of the intercom rang out in the warm animal darkness of Z's quarters and brought them out of past. They rolled onto their side and tried to curl up into a ball to escape reality. But it was already fading. They wanted to go back, they wanted to return to... gone. They lay there in the darkness willing sleep back, knowing it was better than anything that would be found outside the confines of the small lonely nest they had constructed for themselves. The nest smelt of Zeruuli, it smelt like family, but Z knew there was no family here - they were alone.

For moment it smelled like sleep would return, but then the tannoy buzzed again with a monotone voice. It was so annoying.

"All hands, prepare for phase jump."

The ship lurched and Z's eyes snapped open, glowing orange with a dim sickly light from deep inside. They were awake now. The heap of filthy rags that was piled up onto their bunk fell apart as they emerged. From the top of the pile, they selected one particularly stained and tattered piece and began to pluck at it with their long clawed fingers. Closer inspection would reveal it to be a standard issue grey penal jumpsuit, but this one was so unwashed and dirty it was hard to tell. The necked had been ripped open wide to allow the Zeruuli to wriggle their impressive bulk inside. Similarly the sleeves had been torn off at the shoulders to exposed the great slabs of scared and tattooed muscle that Z called arms.

The automatic motion sensing lighting did not turn on as they stood, Z had destroyed that long ago. The only light in the room came from a single cracked viewing screen that sat on the floor in the corner, facing the bed at an angle. It was tuned to static - the volume was turned up.

From the flicking and shifting light the screen emitted some of the the darkened room could be seen. Much of the walls, floor and ceiling were hidden beneath a layer of mucus like slime that clung to it in a thick globs and patches. It was Zeruuli bile - the substance that formed the species reproductive cocoons, and also came to coat their nests when they were left in one place long enough. Heaps of trash adorned the floor, rotting food, empty bottles and smashed glass. None of this disturbed the leathern soles of Z's feet as they made their away to the door and slunk out into the corridor outside.

They lumbered along beneath the blinking lights, claws clacking on the metal grilled floors towards the central common room where they normally ate. When the door hissed open they were surprised to see it so empty - normally they were the last to arrive for breakfast, but there was only the captain, the pilot and Riggs. They were equally surprised when they realised that the table was not laid for eating.

"No food..." They said in a low hiss, and looked from side to side before remembering that it wasn't actually time for food yet. Warily they stepped into the common room and sprawled their bulk down on the floor in the corner closest to the Pilot. They did not mind the pilot. The captain was alright too, but they made them do work. Riggs they regarded with a hostile unblinking stare. They did not like Riggs, that one's mind moved to fast for Z.

Hardly Divine: Decadence

@Jig Cool I'll tweak the things you said although actually now I that I think about it there a few things I might change actually in regards to their personality. This character is ultimately a rework of one I've been writing about since 2009? I think, and the version you see right now is a hybrid of two (well probably more actually) incarnations of them and the more I think about it, the less I'm happy with it.

I want to change to be less destructive/chaotic and more epicurean/hedonistic with a sadistic self serving streak that can often manifest itself in violence, in particular picking on the weak and defenseless for fun. Might tone down the combat level a bit as well since I'm moving away from the whole 'ultimate flawed weapon' kinda conception.

I'd also like to know about some of the Architect's questions too, I thought essentially we were going to be playing as anthropomorphic manifestations of a concept similar to the metaphysical interpretations of Nietzsche's Will to Power. Being's that exist to try and dominate each other and the world, and that exist by force of their own will. Am I much wrong?

----

EDIT: I updated the CS to better reflect what I was talking about

The Pickers

Z/35712

Z/35712 – Chopper - Z

Name

Z/35712 is technically their official name, it’s a batch number tattooed on the back of their neck from whoever originally birthed them.

Nicknames

Prior to conviction inmate was known by the alias Chopper, an epithet given to them by their non Zeluuri comrades – supposedly derived from their propensity for machetes?

Since conviction they have adopted a new name that was given to them by fellow inmates, Z, short hand on many world’s for Z/35712's race – the Zeluuri.

Position

Convict

Age

Unknown – Zeluuri memories aren’t particularly sharp and pretty much end up completely resetting after about fifteen years. Z/35712 has served nine of a twelve year sentence, and we have records stretching back for another ten years before that.

Gender

Zeluuri are sexless – most professional or medical reports will refer to them as a ‘they’. On world’s with less stringent laws regarding sentient life Zeluuri are often downgraded to an ‘it’ however, and most people refer to them in the male pronoun as they conform to galactic culture’s general gender expectations for males more readily than females – they don’t seem to mind.

Charged Crime(s)

Currently serving a twenty galactic standard year sentence (reduced to twelve via Picking) with additional five years monitored probation for murdering a settler on the colony of Prander’s World. Has previous convictions for minor drug charges and violent assault on other worlds.

Reputation

Z/35712 lives up to the stereotypes surrounding Zeluuri well – they’re violent, dangerous, exceptionally strong, but ultimately simple minded and easy to please. General population is mostly scared of Z/35712, given they can damn near tear most other people in half with their bare hands if they wanted to. The guards however are somewhat complacent, as knowledge of how to bribe Z/35712 into following orders is commonplace.

Appearance

Imagine a Conger eel with six dull glowing orange eyes stuck in the sides of its face. Now put that Conger eel on two legs, give a set of arms ending in clawed hands have two sets of opposable thumbs on each side. Congutulations you have just met your first Zeluuri. They have no lips or eyelids and just slits for a nose, their mouth is a jumbled mess of fangs that sometimes keep members of their race from closing them all dripping with toxic saliva. They start off full height but skinny and lean when first birthed but rapidly bulk up on muscle in the first few years of their lives. They lack sexual organs – instead they produce asexually with a parasitic slime that is used to wrap dead bodies in to create a cocoon. The flesh of the host becomes altered to the genetic code and a 'clone' is made. Because each host is difference, every Zeluuri doesn't look the same and takes on a minor change in format to the traces of DNA left from the cadaver.

Z/35712 is a particularly large and strong example of a Zeluuri, indicating both a large original host, and a long life. They are distinguished from others of their kind through the many scars and markings on their body. They are missing their right middle eye, their left inner thumb and half their ring finger on the same hand. Mercenary and prison tattoos around their pale fleshy body faded like newspapers left out in the rain.

Height

6ft 10inches or 208cm

Weight

400lb or 181.5kg

Personality

Violent and slothful are two most identifiable traits of Z/35712. Like most Zeluuri they have a natural propensity to violent and war like behaviour, and the fact that their loyalty imprint was activated years ago when they were first birthed means that getting them to do anything is a real pain. However, they do respond well to promises of extra food rations or luxury goods, as long as you remember to keep them. Z/35712 is obedient, trusting when coerced as such and their idleness is made up for by their sheer strength and endurance, making them a relatively effective worker. However, be sure to treat them with respect, don’t try to trick them, break a promise or deceive them because when they get angry… they sure do get real angry, and a 400lb bipedal eel with claws can do a hell of a lot of damage.

When it comes to their interaction with the other inmates, most of them are scared of Z/35712, (hell did you see what he nearly did to Kravat in his first week here? I hear his doing well these days by the way, eating solid food again) but they don’t really seem to realise it – there’s not really that much going on up there. And they insist on sharing double cell for whatever reason which makes more of the gen pop uncomfortable, they keep thinking Z/35712 wants to cocoon them and make a friend for themself. Like the rest of their kind they have the odd habit of referring to themselves in the third person.

Likes

• Meat
• Sedatives/Opiates/Anything chemical that produces euphoria
• Sleeping
• Music of any sort – lone Zeluuri are much more docile when there is constant background noise whether it be classical music or static.

Dislikes

• Work – unless sufficiently bribed
• Being tricked, deceived, or lied to in anyway
• Jokes or witty people - they don’t often understand them and assume they are being laughed at
• Strong electric shocks – due to their low level psionic hive mindedness
• Being left alone

Skills

• Really, really, strong
• Faster than average
• Skilled at hand to hand combat – both armed and unarmed
• Has exceptional night vision

Weaknesses

• Dumb as a doornail
• Uncooperative with others except to other Zeluuri or original owner
• Easily distracted by sleep, food, drugs and alcohol

Fears

• Strong electric shocks – it’s like being punched directly in the brain for them
• Being alone – the general pack mentality of Zeluuri means they get agitated and upset when left completely alone.
• Certain types of ancient alien artefacts makes them completely freak out – anything related to the High Vos culture.

History

Z/35712 first shows up on any official record about 20 years ago as a fully grown Zeluuri arrested for drug trafficking on Azatone. They served two years there before being released and emigrating to the desert world of Hakkon – trail goes completely cold for four years until they show up an enlisted mercenary with the USSC (United Security Solutions Corporation). For the next six years they fought in a variety of conflicts, the invasion of Fyndii by the Damoosh collective, the Derelict War during the Colchis Offensive on Magu Minor, and the civil war in the Ethelholm System.

Around ten years ago they ended up on a posting protecting one of the frontier colonies on Prander’s World, rooting out pirates and illegal homesteads in preparation for another wave of expansion. One night he was in a bar playing cards with a bunch of other Zeluuri mercs and a stranger joins in and ends up winning a lot of money. A fight breaks out, the Zeluuri accuse the stranger of cheating, someone pulls out a gun and Z/35712 machetes the guy in the face. Supposedly it was self-defence but anyway the card player dies and Z/35712 gets arrested.

Justice on frontier worlds isn’t much so the normal procedure would be for USSC to post a bail and make Z/35712 pay it back. But as it turns out the stranger was the son of some wealthy capitalist from Urras who got wind of what happened and demanded justice – so Z/35712 gets shipped back to a core world and given a proper trial. They get 20 galactic standard years for murder and after brief stints elsewhere, ends up in a penal colony in the Siren System. This was how they managed to get into picking – Zeluuri aren’t bright enough to be good pickers, but Z/35712 is freakishly strong and can do the grunt work of 3 or 4 other inmates.

Zeluuri

Lifespan

Unknown – most of them end up being killed before they reach the 100 year mark and those that have often don’t even know it themselves due to their memories resetting every fifteen years or so. There have been recorded cases of individual Zeluuri living well over 300 years.

Home planet

Zeluuri are found all over the place and lack a definitive home planet. They are a very old galactic race and appear in depictions and records of long dead races under different names – apparently appearing in waves throughout the eons. Mostly they show up on Planets which have been involved in galaxy wide conflicts or have been colonised over and over again, this due to their use as foot soldiers and menial workers. Some planets are almost entirely Zeluuri, however, archaeological evidence has shown that these are not home worlds at all – but planets which have been infected with a strain of the Zeluuri and they have eventually completely overrun and subsumed the indigenous populations.

Culture

To understand Zeluuri culture one has to understand their fragmented and little understood past, as well as their important psychological make up. There’s academic consensus that the Zeluuri are not a naturally occurring life form, its believed that they were created in the Age of the Dawn Empires of the galaxy as a form of biological warfare by the Ancient High Vos culture group. Hieroglyphs from the pyramids of Old Vos often refer to the High Vosians as being the ‘givers of life’ (from what we know they were extremely gifted biological engineers) and refer to a slave race underneath them as the ‘corpse-born’ - it is believed that this refers to the modern day Zeluuri.

Originally they could be unleashed on an unsuspecting world through orbital bombardment of spores which would infect host creatures and begin the transformation process – however, how this particular process was achieved is lost to ages and now Zeluuri only reproduce through cocooning. Early records from the Great Sagas of Yi Angli Pret mention a War with a group known as the Adversaries and how they made monsters fall from the sky that swallowed the dead and split in two, one again these are believed to be Zeluuri.

The other great strain of evidence for the connection between the Ancient High Vos culture and the Zeluuri is their strange behaviour around artefacts from this period – in particular any representation of a High Vosian. They refuse to look at them and begin to uncontrollably gibber and quake in whatever language they know about damnation and their shame. The Zeluuri lack a conscious collective memory (it is well known they almost completely reset their memories every fifteen years or so) but equally there is the possibility here of an unconscious memory being handed down throughout the generations through their psionic abilities – the Zeluuri pseudo hive-minds.

All Zeluuri have low level psionic abilities and when left in a group will eventually form links, allowing groups of several hundred of them to act in one purpose and to one plan. At above 300 or so individuals these links break down and groups of 20 or 30 Zeluuri will break off to form new hive minds, but this is inconsequential when you consider that there must be a continuous mental link going from the Zeluuri of Ancient Vos right the way through to the modern age. It appears that there is a form of indelible imprint upon them as a race relating to the Vosians in a way which beyond their birth imprinting which is traditionally considered the primary control method of their species.

When a Zeluuri is first birthed from a cocoon it is ready to be imprinted with commands, commands that will stay with it for life. A hive mind made up of enough individuals with the same imprint will assimilate other Zeluuri to that imprint if they enter it, similarly a hive mind with too many conflicting imprints will break down the authority of the original master of the Zeluuri. Because of this ability to imprint loyalty or servitude onto them, as well as their massive strength and general inexpensive nature to run, Zeluuri are an extremely popular choice for labourers on worlds where slavery is still legal.

The Zeluuri as a race are supposed to live in groups, a lone Zeluuri appear very stupid, and most people never experience them in hive minds of 30 or upwards, where they still seem quite dim. However, a full hive mind of 300 Zeluuri is very mentally capable and can be said to be quite devious when it comes to tricking their opponents in battle.

Left to their own devices on worlds long cleared of any other opponent, Zeluuri will band off into groups roughly the size of a large hive mind and begin protracted periods of warfare against each other. Generally their technology will devolve to hunter-gathering and stone or scavenged tools.

The one exception to this is the world of Skhien, where the Zeluuri virus ended up hosting on a race of naturally gifted telepaths. This ended up producing genetic anomalies in the planet’s Zeluuri population to this day. Here the Zeluuri can form hive minds of several thousand individuals and have preserved a much higher level of technology and civilisation. They have created a feudalistic society, retained the art of metal working and agriculture, as well as formed political unions and organised religion. Although this is one world in many hundreds which the Zeluuri show up on, and only accounts for a very small percentage of their overall population.

Tales of Lucenrai: The Fallen Kingdom

@vietmyke Well dude, if you're ever in need of a spare I'd be more than happy to oblige

Feral

I thought I'd call in and see what's happening on here, sad to see Feral is finally over, but still... damn good run.

Tales of Lucenrai: The Fallen Kingdom

Aw damn man, did I miss this?