Krotar couldn’t believe what had happened. His head was ringing, and the world was spinning. Struggling, he pushed himself up off the bonnet of the car. Nearly losing his footing as the world shifted around him. He swayed, nervously, as he tried to remain upright, while the fluid in his ears tried to figure out which way was up again. Rubbing what he thought was sweat from his brow, he noticed it was in fact blood. His crisp azure blue blood providing stark contrast against what would normally be expected to come from a human. He could hear people talking to him, but the crash had temporarily disabled his translator. Disoriented, he kind of just brushed off everyone, as he was trying to keep himself on his feet. As the sparkles started to fade from his vision, and his translator came back on line, he noticed that there was some commotion going on inside.
“Are you sure you don’t need me to hang back?” Conan asked Johanna, the owner and proprietor of Red Boar Apothecary. “Go, you’ve got a big change on the horizon, and this trip will be good for you.” Was her response as she ushered him out the back door. Johanna was kind enough to let Conan borrow the company car. It was a nice dual cab Ute. With Red Boar Apothecary brazenly stamped all over it. It was mainly used for house call readings that Johanna did for some of the store’s older clients. Johanna had lent it to Conan since his car wouldn’t have enough space for his camping supplies. “You are always so vague.” Conan said as he climbed into the driver’s seat. “It’s good for business,” was her response. With that, Conan drove off. Pulling a herbal cigarette from his pocket, he lowered the Sun visor to keep the Sun out of his eyes, he saw the note taped on the back of it that read “no smoking.” Conan smirked and put the cigarette back into its case.
Before long, he was pulling up at the camp site. As he stepped out of the car, he raised a herbal cigarette to his lips, and it seemingly lit itself. Taking a drag as he closed the door of the Ute he turned to his old friends. “Sorry I’m late.”
Name: Conan King Age: 25 Fae properties: Changeling - Believing himself to be one of the blessed, Conan doesn’t know he is a Changeling. Though he suspects something might be different. From a young age, he figured out how to give himself a more normal appearance. He’s not exactly sure what his power is. With other Blessed having clearly defined gifts, his is a little more ambiguous. Personality: Conan has always seen himself as an outsider. A role he fill beautifully. From his piercings to working part time at a new age Crystal Shop. He doesn’t trust people easily, often avoiding people without “gifts” as much as possible. Bio: Conan King was disowned by his parents when he was five. After claims that he wasn’t their real son, and had been swapped out. Such an experience tainted his view of people. They were his family, and they turned against him. He stopped trusting people, and withdrew. Bouncing from foster family to foster family. He dropped out of high school, and got a part time job at The Red Boar Apothecary. The only place he really felt he belonged. It was a new age, Crystal, Psychic, Witchcraft shop run by one of the blessed in town. Unfortunately his boss couldn’t afford to pay him full time, so he also got a part time job at a cafe.
Krotar was just about to start on chain smoking his fourth packet of Marlboro Reds, when something caught his eye. He blinked as his HUD zoomed in on a butler looking man came out the front door. The alien found this man odd. Not for the many number of reasons he found humans odd. Rather his system was picking up that the man had some serious tech on him. It couldn’t pin down exactly what it was, but it definitely picked something up. This piqued the alien’s interest. Placing the cigarette packet back in his jacket pocket, he stood up. A wave of lightheadedness washed over him as the nicotine caught up to him. He had to place a hand back out to steady himself by leaning on the bench. Taking a moment to steady himself he pushed back up. He looked down and straightened his jacket so it was less obvious he had two large handguns strapped to the side of his body. Having opted to wear his universal blasters in dual shoulder holsters today.
Slow, careful, measured steps led Krotar forward. His gait betraying his purpose. He focused on his breathing. Feeling the cool air enter through his nose, and enter his lungs. His body warming the air before expelling it. As he drew closer, his system was able to read more from the man seemingly overflowing with tech. Not that anyone else would know just how much that man had within him. He quickened his pace to question the man. Drawing closer to him. Nanites? Was his HUD correct? Krotar was sure Earth hadn’t reached that level of advanced tech yet.
The sound of tires screeching filled the street as Krotar was hit by a car. Distracted by investigating this man, he had failed to watch for traffic. The alien had stepped right out in front of a 2013 Honda Civic. His body crumpled as he rolled up the bonnet of the car and smashed into the windshield. The car slammed one the brakes and slid to a halt. Krotar splayed out on the front of the car.
A puff of smoke filled the air around the bench on which Krotar sat. His last year trapped on this rock had been uneventful. Though he had to give one thing to this shitty backwater planet. Their tobacco was among the best in the Galaxy. It was almost criminal how this planet handled the stuff. It was almost three times as strong as what you could get legally anywhere else in the galaxy. Hell, these Terrans figured out it gives you cancer, yet keep legislation to a minimum. Krotar was people watching. He had sat there all night, casually smoking, watching people enter this Gala. It confused him. If this was supposed to be the elite of New York, why was it held in some simple Convention Center, like some common expo. Surely with such wealthy investors, you would do something exciting. Like book out a museum, or a zoo, or a stadium. Krotar guessed it betrayed the real wealth of the organiser and clientele. They may as well rented a community hall for a couple hundred dollars, if they weren’t going to pick a suitable venue. He didn’t really care much for the Gala, but rather was using it as bait. He figured a gathering of the the supposedly richest in New York would garner the attention of the criminal underground. He hoped to foil a super villain and take their tech. He needed a few thing to fix up his ship before he could get off this god forsaken rock. The tech he salvaged from the battlefield that stranded him on this planet proved useful, but wasn’t quite enough to get him clear of this solar system.
The cold wind bit at his exposed skin. Flicking the butt of his cigarette onto the growing pile that was amassing on the sidewalk. New York. The city that never sleeps. The perfect place for a man who can’t. Standing up, he stretched his stiffened joints. The human brain can only go so long before it simply ceases to function. The Xandarian and Kree can go a little longer, but still eventually need a break. Normally he would book into a sensory deprivation tank, but his usual parlour was closed for renovations. So, he sat on a bench on a snowy night. Shakily smoking a cigarette. Waiting for trouble.
Name: Krotar Gaant Species: Kree/Xandarian Hybrid Gender: Male Sexuality: Probably Straight, has been known to fool around with the same gender though. Age: 37 Birthday: 3 March or The equivalent in the Galactic Calendar Personality: Krotar likes to think of himself as a smooth talking, lovable ass hole. A suave, smooth talking space pirate. Though has sometimes been known to miss the lovable part of “lovable” ass hole. He rarely considers other’s feelings, and sometimes, accidentally can be a little manipulative. He means well, but being raised by pirates, and being stranded on an alien world has been hard. He has talked his way into trouble, more than he has talked his way out of it. Appearance (description, face-claim):
Face claim - Alexander Skarsgard
Affiliation (if any): Ravagers Powers: Negaband Empowerment - Krotar’s physiology has been enhanced through extended use of kree NegaBands. The millenia old Nega-Bands were powerful relics of the Kree Empire. Transforming mental energy into physical energy, the Nega-Bands are able to grant the wearer fabulous powers.
Krotar’s NegaBands aren’t like normal Kree NegaBands. They were acquired when Krotar’s Ravager ship raided a science vessel leaving Planet Klyntar. Believing the ship would wield Symbiotic Weaponry or Artifacts they could sell, instead they found a lab belonging to a truely deranged individual. Among the experiments found, were a failed attempt to silence a Klyntar Symbiote, An Element Gun, an attempt to recreate the procedure that created Eternals, attempts at resurrecting a celestial, and a device that increased one’s psychic potential. While all these were taken, and sold for a great deal of credits, there was one item that garnered Krotar’s attention. A set of Kree NegaBands. These NegaBands had been experimented on, and were much different from the original Kree Models. For one, these ones have seemingly embedded themselves into Krotar’s forearms, appearing as black, circuit like, tattoo-like marks. While possessing most of the abilities of normal NegaBands, such as flight, and increased strength, durability and speed, they also allow Krotar to store his armour in a pocket dimension. Meaning he can materialise it at will. The universal translator has also proved useful in his intergalactic travels.
Weapon(s) (if any):
A set of two blasters, created from a scavenged Kree Universal Weapon. They have been modified over the years, adding new functions to them, by incorporating other alien technologies.
Weaknesses: While the NegaBands may filter out airborne toxins, and allow him to survive in the space, they cannot identify water as a hostile atmosphere, meaning drowning is still very much possible. Some of the NegaBands functions seem to be locked by the experiments that took place before he acquired them. The NegaBands make it impossible for him to sleep, but he still feels tired. He uses coffee and other stimulants to keep him coherent. Likes : Coffee, Loud Music, the deafening silence of space, Seknarfian Ale, earth tobacco Dislikes : Horses, earth beer, the colour orange, rice, people who say they like “studying” Current Residence: An abandoned subway station under New York, where he is trying his best to rebuild his ship. Backstory (if you plan on revealing your OC's backstory in the RP, either skip this or keep it vague): Was a Ravager that turned up on Earth to fight an Alternate Thanos. His ship was destroyed and he was presumed dead. The Ravagers went back to space, stranding him on Earth.
I might take purple or white, but noticed that there are already eight rangers. The first post only mentioned five power suits if I’m remembering correctly. Then I think I saw the addition of three magical equivalents. Would I have to make up my own origin?
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