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4 yrs ago
Current Space: The final frontier. The womb: The first frontier. Somewhere between those two: the ocean.
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4 yrs ago
Lost? Confused? Lacking direction? Need to find a purpose in your life?
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“Krotar Gaant.” The alien responded to the lovely lady. He offered his hand for a handshake. At the sound of a metal man shouting about everyone leaving, and asking if SHIELD was still a thing. He sighed. “Unfortunately.” He muttered under his breath. “It was truely a pleasure.” He said to the lady. “Would love to get coffee some time. I Don’t have many friends around here.” He said as he took a step backwards towards the door. “Dial seven sevens to contact me.” He turned to the door. Authorities were pulling up when he walked through the door, so they were due to enter right about…
Now. The doors burst open as SWAT swarmed in. Krotar kneeled and put his hands behind his head. Ready to be taken into custody.
What about a hedge wizard, who is less “sorcerer supreme, doctor strange” but more knows about magic and has a few handy circumstantial spells. Similar to Constantine.
Like he’s got brass knuckles to punch a rogue ghost, but anything above low level imp, he’ll be in over his head.
The prison cart pulled up out front of the Adventures Guildhall. Zavim could feel the gaze of those on the street, and those looking out from their windows. A guard unlocked the cage, and tossed a bundle of clothes at the Half Orc. Zavim caught it and looked at the guard. A fire behind his eyes betrayed his anger. Was he really going to get changed, here in the middle of the street? Was that really what they expected of him? To treat him like an animal.
As Zavim begun to undress two of the guards smirked at each other. Seemingly glad they had reduced this man to little more than a beast.
When filled dressed, a guard grabbed Zavim and pulled him from the cage, before pushing his face into the dirt. Zavim didn’t even try to fight back. Knowing full well that any attempt would make his situation worse. A mage wearing the Royal insignia exited the Prison Cart’s cabin. They pressed a brand onto the back of Zavim’s neck, leaving a sizzling sigil branded onto his skin. The guards continued to man handle Zavim as they lifted him up and rolled up one of his sleeves. The mage placed a different brand on his left forearm. “These will make sure you serve term, and not break any more laws.” The mage explained before opening a case to reveal two wands. “These will be returned to you for the duration of your mission. Nod if you understand.” Zavim nodded. The mage continued his briefing. “You will answer to SRIKANDI NAGASARI. Nod if you understand.” Zavim nodded again. The mage smiled and handed him the case. Accepting the case, he turned to face the building as the guards and mage filed back into the Prison Cart.
So this was the start of his adventure…




It took some time to navigate the guildhall. He noticed people were less inclined to help a conscript than a volunteer. Though after a few minutes of searching, and a couple more to make sure he was well presented, and had his wands stowed in their respective holsters, he knocked on the door of the meeting room, and tentatively pushed it open.
<Snipped quote by Sanity43217>

Well it depends what aspects of a "Pathfinder" you're looking to move over. Pathfinder, to me, is more of a position rather than a class, like a first into the fray type of ground team leader/type. Like as background stuff I could see that being a proper thing, it'd just depend on what specifically from the 'Pathfinder' you're thinking of bringing over.


An Infiltrator/Explorer type character. Maybe pick up some Vanguard levels down the track. Not sure I want to step up and lead groups of people. Seems like a lot of responsibility, but definitely among the first boots on the ground. A recon officer.
How locked into a specific class would we be locked into?
Like would a character who was going through the Pathfinder training who was set to go to Andromeda, but stayed behind for family, or because there was an accident that made him medically unable to participate in the Andromeda Initiative.
Zavim was walking back to his homestead. Having spent the day out looking for a wolf that had been plaguing his flock for a few weeks. A wand strapped to the outside of his thigh. Wiping some sweat from his brow, he hadn’t found the wolf. He would have to try again. After a meal and rest.
His careful gait carried him through the woods back to his humble estate. A small paddock and half a dozen sheep. He thought about the meal Josephine would have prepared for him. He hoped it was something hearty. Something that would help fuel him up. His wife was always a good cook. Almost instinctively sniffing the air, almost as if trying to discern what his wife was cooking in the distance. His nostrils filled with a familiar stench. His stomach dropped. His mind went from food and rest to worry. While he was expecting to smell the woodlands, instead he smelled smoke. His pace quickened. His breathing laboured as he pushed himself to return to his wife.

Bursting through the tree line, he saw his homestead up in flames. A group of guards standing out front bearing his wife. Trying to interrogate her. He felt rage fill his heart.




(Present Day)
He started awake. His dream all to real. He had trouble sleeping. Partly because he lay in a cold metal cage. Partly because in the space of a few days his whole life had been uprooted. His hand started to his outer thigh, instinctively searching for a wand. Still groggy, he was still getting his bearings.
As his heart rate began to slow again, it all came rushing back. The guards arriving at his homestead, beating his wife. The fight that ensued. Getting captured and imprisoned. Being scheduled for execution. A fluke falling star being mistaken for an omen. The church vying for exemption. The law vying for his death.
So, here he sat, in a prisoner transport, heading to Cendana. Where he would be forced to join an expedition to investigate the fallen object.
Are you looking for people to play other OCs or Canon characters?
Conan unzipped a bag from the tray of the Ute and fished around. Seemingly looking at something. Finding it, he produced a lawn dart. Turned to the information board, closed his eyes, and threw it. Narrowly missing his childhood friend. “Seems like a good a way as any to pick a path.” He said walking up to inspect where the dart had lodged in the wooden board. Tapping Eris on the shoulder. “Sorry, bud.” He held a peace sign to Zephyr when he was greeted.

Krotar was making his way inside to investigate what was going when he noticed one of the bodies, one of the demons left behind, begin to stir. Groaning he faced the revenant. “Really?” As the undead corpse shambled towards him, the alien sighed. Undead were so faux pas. As the corpse swung a wild arm, Krotar casually deflected it by swinging his arm in an arc, catching the attacking creature’s limb with the back of his wrist, in a movement that would have mirrors Kung Fu. Then in a move much less graceful, but much more brutal, he forward kicked the shambling corpse, square in the chest. The corpse landed on its back, half way up the stairs. Walking up, Krotar looked down at the corpse. “Rest easy. The colors of Ogord will flash over your grave.” He said in a somber tone. He stomped hard, splattering the head of the undead corpse. Undeath was a sick thing. Death was supposed to be a sacred thing. A goal to work towards. Otherwise, what was the point of all this shit?
Krotar felt a deep anger build up inside him. His NegaBands began to glow. As more corpses began to rise, he marched forward with purpose. Blocking a strike with his left forearm, he ducked and spun under it, sweeping the legs out from under another shambling corpse. Stomping the skull of this one just in time to hear sirens approaching. He debated whether he should stay and help the police finish up these undead, so that they might find peace, or to strike at the root of the cause.
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