Name: Peledon Xeren (Pell-eh-dawn Zair-ehn) Age: 36 earth years Race: Rukshi Gender: Male Appearance: Humanoid in stature, about 5'8", save for the almost reptilian feet and amphibious looking facial structure. Very similar to Drell in Mass Effect (Imagine an Argonian and a Drell having a baby). Teal, scaley skin, with dark green eyes, thin lips and cheekbones. Flat face. Average build. A mark that looks to be a burn on his right arm. Inventory: Pendant (heirloom), alien-looking multi-tool. Other: Wears tight clothes that appear to be made of similar fabric as human apparrel, and a metal rod that protrudes from the collarbone that can holographically project computer data directly in front of the users face, also functions as a form of night vision and infrared.
Rukshi (Rook-she)
A species that achieved technological enlightenment at the same time as when Man was first banging on logs and scrounging around for berries for nourishment, this reptilian-esque species grew at a rapid pace, turning their once green and lush earthen world into a sphere of bright steel and platinum in only a few several generations. They synthesized all of their nourishment, regulated the atmosphere, and supervised plans for interplanetary colonization. But something went horribly wrong. The species itself existed of a stern and immovable caste system. At the top, managed by the most intellectual and manipulative of their race, and at the bottom, where the grand majority of the populace lied amongst the filth and decay of a pollution-filled and wasteful industrial era. A seperate sect of Rukshi rose to great prominence, labeling themselves as the Zeftol, native tongue for Harbingers. These crude barbarians were just as manipulative as the Rukshi elites, and took advantage of the masses as they led a rebellion against their dictators. The first of the riots were devastating. Massive skyscrapers, world-reknowned, crumbled in fire and ash. Science facilities, so superior in their research, Human facilities from the 21st century appeared as if they were still inventing the wheel, were bombed, thousands of years worth of research destroyed in just a few great blasts. This was the beginning of the end for the Rukshi and their home. After just a few short months, most of the gleaming world was turned to a smoldering fire, and the last of the most advanced minds had little option left but to abandon their world. In only a few days, legions of spacecraft took to the heavens, filled with only a few hundred thousand Rukshi. These Rukshi breathed the last of their planets air, witnessed the final glimpse of white and gold that remained, and vanished from their home, never to return. For many millenia, these Rukshi wandered the cosmos. So much information, lost, and it had to be recreated. Luckily, these Rukshi were the greatest minds their species had ever developed. It didn't take long for them to regain the lost knowledge, and since they feared of the same destruction taking them again, instead of embracing their diversity - they eliminated it. Cultural backgrounds and family histories were abondoned, and only intellect prevailed. By the time humans had established a galactic foothold, the Rukshi were bred to perfection - in their eyes. Unfortunately, this left little room for an open mind, and arrogance spread like a plague amongst them. All in all, the Rukshi are an impossibly intelligent race, their power coming from their minds, but that doesn't mean that their pre-civilized traits are completely gone. They still grasp onto their almost reptilian roots, and are incredibly agile. Other physical traits enable them to have a tougher "skin" than humans, and are resiliant to most biological ailments, such as a virus or bacterial infection. It would be best to avoid any kind of physical altercation with these aliens, for their sheer guile and agility could prove most deadly.
@Spinosaurus Thanks! Literally made it up on the spot lol, I'll post it over in Characters tab now! I'll try and edit it a little bit, too, and try to get a bit more in-depth with the race to give a better explanation of what I can come up with.
Name: Peledon Xeren (Pell-eh-dawn Zair-ehn) Age: 36 earth years Race: Rukshi Gender: Male Appearance: Humanoid in stature, about 5'8", save for the almost reptilian feet and amphibious looking facial structure. Very similar to Drell in Mass Effect. Teal, scaley skin, with dark green eyes, thin lips and cheekbones. Average build. A mark that looks to be a burn on his right arm. Inventory: Pendant (heirloom), alien-looking multi-tool. Other: Wears tight clothes that appear to be made of similar fabric as human apparrel, and a metal rod that protrudes from the collarbone that can holographically project computer data directly in front of the users face, also functions as a form of night vision and infrared.
Alien race that was cast from its homeworld several thousand years before human civilization arose due to destructive wars that occured, only those of great wealth and stature within their society were able to escape the burning planet. Roamed the galaxy for several millenia, growing in number and intellectual capability, which was to ensure their survival. Advanced technology ensured that gene splicing occurred within shuttles, so that the genetic makeup was diverse enough to prevent biological disaster.
Howdy all, pretty damn new to this board, and the forum, for that matter. Is it cool if I throw my guy in the mix for a bit? Need a bit of a warm-up/practice round with him, and also would love to get a good feel for what goes on here. Thanks!
"Oi! Be a true laddy an' fetch me un' more a dem hard hitters!"
Short, stocky, and quite the protruding gut, even for Dwarven standards, with short braids that poke out form his heirloom iron helm and a great, flowing red beard that reached to the end of his chainmail shirt, with stained leather pants and gloves from either blood or booze.
Age: 76 years young
Gender: Male
Occupation: Sellsword, currently.
Wealth: Average
Skills: Wields a massive axe and mace with both hands in combat, and has the stamina to withstand the wear and tear of combat for almost several days at a time.
Personality: Always in the mood to drink like a fish or smash a few skulls, Gwevyl loves the midst of combat and wouldn't know what to do with himself otherwise - unless, of course, he's in a tavern somewhere, drinking up anything that could have the potential of getting him drunk. You can always find him if in need of some comic relief, or if you need a couple of cave trolls slain.
Biography: Born and raised deep in the mountains of the east, trained to fight when he was still a boy and learned to drink like a fish when he found his first mead bottle, Gwevyl was the epitome of the Dwarven warriors the human peasants in the lowlands heard about. He spent most of his youth aiding his father with crushing any goblins that were able to slink into their food supplies or gnabbed a coin from their mountains of gold. He soon grew tired of this life, however, hearing of the conquests that Men made far to the north, and quickly set forth to great cities to sell his blunt and blade to any caravans or armies that needed a true Dwarven battlemaster. It wouldn't be long after he was done adventuring that he would come stumbling into a tavern in a small settlement, drinking up all the booze and exciting the local patrons with great song and spirits that he learned deep in his rocky native lands.
Likes: When his belly is full of liquor and when his axe and mace are breaking open a goblin's skull.
Dislikes: Being sober; when his axe isn't sharp; and seeing a living goblin.
Fears: The undead, or ghouls of similar likeness.
Weaknesses: His short and fat stature makes him slow and stiff, but he makes up for it with his brute ferocity in the field of battle.
"Oi! Be a true laddy an' fetch me un' more a dem hard hitters!"
Short, stocky, and quite the protruding gut, even for Dwarven standards, with short braids that poke out form his heirloom iron helm and a great, flowing red beard that reached to the end of his chainmail shirt, with stained leather pants and gloves from either blood or booze.
Age: 76 years young
Gender: Male
Occupation: Sellsword, currently.
Wealth: Average
Skills: Wields a massive axe and mace with both hands in combat, and has the stamina to withstand the wear and tear of combat for almost several days at a time.
Personality: Always in the mood to drink like a fish or smash a few skulls, Gwevyl loves the midst of combat and wouldn't know what to do with himself otherwise - unless, of course, he's in a tavern somewhere, drinking up anything that could have the potential of getting him drunk. You can always find him if in need of some comic relief, or if you need a couple of cave trolls slain.
Biography: Born and raised deep in the mountains of the east, trained to fight when he was still a boy and learned to drink like a fish when he found his first mead bottle, Gwevyl was the epitome of the Dwarven warriors the human peasants in the lowlands heard about. He spent most of his youth aiding his father with crushing any goblins that were able to slink into their food supplies or gnabbed a coin from their mountains of gold. He soon grew tired of this life, however, hearing of the conquests that Men made far to the north, and quickly set forth to great cities to sell his blunt and blade to any caravans or armies that needed a true Dwarven battlemaster. It wouldn't be long after he was done adventuring that he would come stumbling into a tavern in a small settlement, drinking up all the booze and exciting the local patrons with great song and spirits that he learned deep in his rocky native lands.
Likes: When his belly is full of liquor and when his axe and mace are breaking open a goblin's skull.
Dislikes: Being sober; when his axe isn't sharp; and seeing a living goblin.
Fears: The undead, or ghouls of similar likeness.
Weaknesses: His short and fat stature makes him slow and stiff, but he makes up for it with his brute ferocity in the field of battle.
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