MonsieurShade

Life in Space

I give unto thee: Rocky

Appearance:
Name: Rakans'mei Jakarta (Accepts being called "Rocky") - He stands at about 8'4" and weighs in at 493 lbs (he's small by his race's standards). He dislikes most forms of clothing as a whole but is willing to tolerate wearing cargo pants and tank tops.
Gender: Male
Age: 32 terran years
Race: Skälen
Race description:

Skälen

Named for their appearance by the terran colony that discovered them, the Skälen are a race of reptilian humanoids indigenous to a densely forested heavy gravity planet located within the Khosi system. A combination of heavy gravitational pull and higher oxygen concentrations within the atmosphere has allowed this race to reach rather sizable proportions, with the largest of their number typically measuring somewhere around thirteen feet tall and weighing in at nearly seven hundred pounds. This predatory race is nomadic in nature, moving whenever a prey source has been depleted in an area. Despite their aggressive appearance the Skälen are a fairly social people within their own ranks and will form small to medium sized tribes comprised of both related an non related members alike. It is the common belief of many that the Skälen are a dimwitted race due to their lack of both architecture and any technology above that of the terran bronze age, however this is not entirely the case. While it is true that the Skälen aren't likely to start building ships of their own anytime soon they have nonetheless proven themselves to be quick enough learners to have at least earned themselves a place within the galactic community.

They are particularly favored by other races as a cheap and effective workforce due to the fact that a Skälen will often accept payment in food rather than in actual currency. The Skälen fulfill a similar role in society to the Zarats, in that they are typically hired in labor or combat intensive roles such as miners, mercenaries, pirates, or cargo movers.

Skälen have very little sexual dimorphism to speak of beyond a difference in size, with males typically reaching ten feet on average while females reach around six.

Faction: Talon Merc Company (Rocky has worked out an interesting agreement: His higher ups pocket most of his pay in exchange for his food expenses being covered. It's hard to say who actually benefits more at this point)
Faction Description: (again only if making one)
Job: Security officer, "lab assistant" (He just moves heavy stuff and helps capture specimens every now and then. Really he just likes the title.)
Abilities: Rocky is capable of lifting twice his body weight with a bit of effort. Being from a heavy gravity world has also gifted the Skälen with startling speed when he's placed in an environment with "normal" gravity. The trade off for this is that living on a high oxygen rock means that he can get short of breath very quickly
Skills: As with all adult members of his race Rocky is an experienced hunter and is capable of tracking and bringing down nearly anything around his size in short order. His hulking form paired with natural weaponry makes him a formidable fighter as well. That is if one could consider "rip and tear until it stops moving" fighting.

Backstory: There's not really much to say: Rocky was simply another guy that found a calling as merc and was stationed on Kilik station

Personality: Rocky is a fairly laid back and amiable individual in spite of the fact that looking at him often gives people the impression that he'll eat your face for insulting him. He knows full well that he's not exactly the smartest or friendliest looking guy that a person will meet, but he tries to make up for it by following his orders to the best of his abilities or otherwise helping wherever and whenever he can, provided of course that he still receives his payments on time. Slow to anger but even slower to calm, it's ill advised to get in Rocky's way once he's on the war path.

Other: Rocky received his nickname due to his distinctively rough voice. Think Kevin Grevioux if he'd just spent the entire day smoking cigars and gargling nails.

Life in Space

Nice to see you back in action man! I'm sorely tempted to bring old Rocky from the Space Adventures RP from a few months back.

Wereworld (Dead)

"What are you going to do little man? Are you going to quit? You gonna curl up and cry?!" Dimitri barked as he towered over the shivering man currently lying before him. Dimitri's face twisted into an aggressive, somewhat mocking sneer as he watched the human averted his gaze. It was times such as these that Dimitri found himself remembering just how frail humans could be, how soft. The sneer on his face slipped away as he began to bear down on the man with a cold and merciless gleam in his eyes. He watched as the man panicked, as his eyes darted around helplessly at the giant that moved ever closer to him, as those very same eyes locked with his own. Dimitri's advance halted, not by his own will, but by the will of the man who saw fit to finally retaliate. "That's it, now you've got some fight in you. Come on then! COME ON!" He roared as the man grit his teeth and made his final push...to place the barbell back onto it's rack.

The fake aggressive look on Dimitri's face melted away completely as he released the barbell himself and went to help the man up, "Good job Percy, I knew you had it in you." he praised, punctuation his statement with a friendly slap on the man's shoulder. The man, Percy, offered a weak smile in between his puffing and wheezing as his face and neck went from a bright red from strain, to a more normal flesh colored hue, "You really don't go easy, do you man?" he rasped. Dimitri chuckled, "I'm here to help you get fit, not to cheat you or let you cheat yourself.", now it was Percy's turn to laugh, however his was cut short as he felt pain flare up in his muscles, "It feels like I got hit by a truck." "A truck would be more forgiving. Besides the real pain won't kick in until tomorrow, put some ice on and take a bath in epsom salt, it'll help.".

As Dimitri's phone alarm went off he stepped away from his client and began to pack his things. The session was over for today, and with no further classes until tomorrow he had a bit of time to play around with. After the goodbyes were exchanged Dimitri left Percy's house and started to walk down the street. It was a lovely day out, and he only lived about ten miles away. More than enough time and distance to give him a chance to figure out what he'd do tonight.

Wereworld (Dead)

Name: Khosi Letsatsi (Legally changed to Dimitri Collins)
Nickname: N/A
Age: 28 (physically ages at a slower rate)
Gender: Male
Crush: "I'm a bit old for "crushes", don't you think?" (n/a)
Relationship: I'm a clean slate
Human form:

My Hider

Animal form:

My Hider

Personality: A hard working and relatively mild mannered individual. Dimitri typically prefers to keep to himself, however he has very few issues being social in most settings, especially in parties, as he's known to be a bit of a social drinker. With his transformation being tied to his emotional state Dimitri has conditioned himself to remain calm and patient in the presence of a stressful situation, however there are still limits to what he can tolerate.

History: Dimitri's affliction takes on a much more ancient spin than what can be found in many of the cursed today. Originally born in South Africa, Dimitri was a member of a small splinter of the Sotho tribe that still clung heavily to the traditions of old. One such tradition was the usage of rituals, of which Dimitri was heavily expected to partake in due to his father's status as village shaman. Dimitri however had very little interest in this however, as the ever increasing expansion of modern civilization exposed him more and more to the outside world, he grew less and less attached the the realm of spirits. His father, in a desperate bid to win his son over, convinced Dimitri to participate in a very ancient and powerful ritual, one that would bestow upon him the wisdom and the strength of whatever spirit beast chose him. What remained of his spiritual nature allowed Dimitri to garner the attention of a few spirits, however his detachment ultimately saw him fail, and instead of gaining a spirit's wisdom he was cursed with it's form. With tradition dictating that failure in such a manner was to be punished with exile, Dimitri was booted out of his village in sort order and was forced to do odd jobs for the better part of five years until he'd gathered enough money to move to leave Africa and start fresh in an entirely new country. He's been here for five years now, working as a personal trainer, and has since learned how to carve out a living without accidentally turning and eating someone.

Likes

• Reading
• Drinking
• Exercising
• Grilling
• Warm weather
• Gardening (Don't ask)

Dislikes

• Confrontation
• Laziness
• Cold Weather
• Talking about his old home
• People shit talking his garden (Again, don't ask)

Extra info(anything you would like to add?): Due to his failure to complete his trials Dimitri has little control over his were-form. Transforming diminishes his intellect to that of a crocodile's while granting him absolutely monstrous strength. Being reduced mentally to a wild animal means that he isn't actively hostile, however as an opportunistic predator it's still ill advised to get too close when he turns. Dimitri's upbringing means that he can speak Sesotho.

Star Wars: A New Beginning

Jacque let out a soft groan as he rubbed the back of his head gingerly. Even with Ficer's warning he hadn't reacted quick enough to properly brace himself as the Milano tore ass out of the inspection station, the result was the human's brand new lump courtesy of the back of his head having a sudden and violent meeting with a wall. Thankfully there didn't appear to be any serious damage, neither to him nor to the ship's newest addition. After shaking his head to try and clear the pain a bit, Jacque went to plant a foot firmly onto Tr'ann's back and brought up his comm, "Copy that Fixer. Kruss is, well, being Kruss, so I don't think we should expect any word from him until the heat dies down. If you can focus on getting us the hell out of here and getting our defenses up, I'll see if I can do something about our new friend.".

He had a feeling that Fixer wouldn't be too happy with that sort of pressure being placed on him, however he also figured that given the nature of the situation the droid's desire to live would override any desires to complain until they were out of the shit. Clipping the comm link back to his belt Jacque glanced down at the Chagrian beneath his foot and wondered what could be done with the alien. More complex plans would have to wait until thins weren't so crazy, but for the time being at least the answer was obvious. Jacque knelt down and pressed his knee into the small of Tr'ann's back. Wait came next wasn't a smarmy one liner, threat, or demand. What came next was a good old fashioned beating. The human wailed on the back of Tr'ann's head until he felt that the odds of the inspection officer waking up to cause problems at the worst possible moment were nil.

Following this Jacque scooped up the discarded carbine and gave it a thorough once over. Once he was satisfied that the weapon didn't appear as though it would blow up in his hands he slipped into the lower deck of the ship. This was where another one of his skills as a smuggler began to come into play. Due to his size many people would have likely believed it to be near impossible for Jacque to be silent when he moved. He certainly played into it well enough, alternating between the slow and almost leisurely 'thumping' steps and thunderous stomps based on the situation at hand. Now it was different; his steps where controlled and precise, each foot cautiously placed down in front of the other only when he was certain that he wouldn't give away his position.

It made for a bit of a slow going, as his bulk could still very well betray him it he moved too quickly in the narrow corridors. The dead bodies he was forced to step over certainly didn't help matters either. Somewhere further down there was a clanging noise as though something had just been dropped, he stopped in his tracks and craned his neck to see if he could hear a voice. There was a muffled sound, not entirely unlike the sounds a person made when talking. Raising the carbine in his hands into a ready position Jacque moved once more, delving deeper into the bowels of the Milano.

Star Wars: A New Beginning

Apologies for my lack of posts guys, at first i'd been waiting for another post from Azazaa before I made one, then work started picking up out of nowhere for a bit. I just got off, so my aim is to have a post up either later tonight or sometime in the morning depending on whether or not I succumb to sleep.

The Family That Slays Together (Reboot)

@Gareth I'm sure Leda's just been busy if their user profile is anything to go by. That being said, it may be a good idea for everyone to start giving everyone else a headsup when they go offline for a while.

@TheUnknowable I've always been under the notion that things like iron, silver, and white ash are good go-to materials for dealing with most of the supernaturally inclined such as fae folk, cursed, and the undead. In the end though it all depends on Leda. The secondary option of just filling things with bullets until they're either dead or too torn apart to really do anything probably works just as well though.

The Family That Slays Together (Reboot)

@Overlord24 Indeed I am. It appears to me that these puns have now become a pundamental part of this rp.

The Family That Slays Together (Reboot)

@TheUnknowable If I recall things correctly from the original RP Ghouls were their own creatures.

Star Wars: A New Beginning

Jacque sucked in a sharp breath as the carbine was leveled at his chest. Goddamn it Krus. The nemodian's reaction was completely expected- in fact Jacque would've been completely surprised if Krus hadn't run, still, goddamn it Krus. With his current positioning there was little Jacque could do beyond comply for the time being. The human slowly fell to his knees and placed his hands on his head, all the while glaring daggers Tr'ann Dasheer's smug face. In that moment the human came to one single conclusion: The very moment he got the chance, Tr'ann Dasheer was going to catch one in between his legs. It was times such as this that made Jacque absolutely adored his planet. Specifically, he adored how Sirpar's heavy gravitational pull made moving in more "normal" gravity an absolute breeze.

The sound of Fixer's voice over his comm caused a momentary lapse in Jacque's concentration prompting from the human another sharp breath, though his eyes still remained on the Chagrian officer. An idea came to mind, one that was in all honesty pretty stupid, "Fixer I swear if this doesn't get me killed you'd better not get us blown apart." He mused as he breathed in deeply. "GET US THE HELL OUT OF HERE FIXER!" He all but roared as he lunged forward. Muscles built up from several years worth of of heavy gravity, heavy lifting, and heavy brawling exploded into action as Jacque closed the gap between himself and Tr'ann in short order. With his right hand he clawed wildly at the blaster in a mad attempt to at least turn it away from something vital, and with his left he swung for Tr'ann's face as hard as he could manage. Further adding to his assault attempt Jacque tried to make good on his promise of genital assault by trying to catch the Chagrian's groin with his knee.

Jacque couldn't quite think clearly at the moment, given his mad attempt at neutralizing his captor at the moment. However if he could, there would likely be only two things going through his mind: Fuck the First Order, and fuck this day.