How is your character going to perform his engineer duties without any bloody hands or other instrumental organs?TheDoctor455 said:
The Long Odyssey: Survival Space Opera [OPEN - Accepting Character Sheets]
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The Sermians have retractable claws on their "arms", which, when extended, hide a pair of human-like hands.The Hairminator said:
Homeworld: Tionesterram, a hot planet that is mostly a combination of humid jungle or arid desert. The days are exceptionally long on Tionterram, and so most indigenous lifeforms have evolved to sleep only a fraction of what most races must. It is made up of about 3 major island continents, all of which have the same basic topography: Jungles around the borders with a desert-y center. This is mainly due to odd weather patterns, where rains can only reach a few dozen miles inland before fading.
Appearance: Mostly bipedal, Lakartans are lizard-like in appearance. They stand on average at 5 " 8, and possess a mostly humanoid shape. However their heads appear like that of a raptor from earth, with it being a snout with a set of razor sharp teeth, along with a set of five claws (each retractable, as so they can use tools) to match. Their eyes, are wide-set, and so they have 20/20 vision in a 240 degree angle, like Earth's old prey animals. They have a series of fine scales, like a snake's, covering almost the entirety of their skin, sans the bottoms of their feet and the palms of their hands. This is because on these places, Lakartans have a series of millions of tiny adhesive hairs that they can use to stick to almost any surface, even while underwater, or even in space. This causes all Lakartans to wear clothes without either shoes or gloves (Though gloves can be made with the palms removed). They can be of any color, ranging from Black, white, red, blue, green, yellow, and everything in between.
Diet: Mostly carnivorous, they usually eat either fish, or a species of rodent native to their planet that is considered a delicacy.
Behavior: They are hard to characterize as a whole, but more often then not, they are an industrious, though slightly suspicious people. They love to invent (Mostly weaponry, but they have been known to work on almost anything that captures their interest. They treat their own people well (Introducing each other as "Brother" or "Sister", due to their species-wide religion), and while they often do treat other species well, they don't show the same warmness they do their own race. This is usually seen as an act of racisim, but it is actually in part due to the newness of the Lakartans on the Galactic stage.
Physiology: The larkartans are on whole an athletic bunch. This is mostly due to their predatory build, which allows them to be flexible by having special muscles designed to dislocate their bones, and having them be able to leap an average of 3 meters when perched on a wall, though medical advances could increase this by a good percent. They also can run for long distances without resting due to enlarged lungs. They can usually sprint at speeds of 25 miles per hour for a good 30 minutes, while they can walk or jog for several hours without resting. One last important tidbit is their claws, which due to their religion, they sharpen ceremoniously so that they are as sharp as any combat knife. This usually leads most Lakartan to prefer their own natural weapons over manufactured ones.
Language: The Lakartans speak in an incredibly simply language, with everything having only one word to it, and it is almost unheard of for anything to have more than 4 syllables, though their most sacred religious icons have long and poetic names. This makes it an easy language to learn, as there is no "Lakartan Thesaurus" or variations of words to remember. It can be written in English easily, along with it's original alphabet, which is likewise simple as well.
Appearance: Mostly bipedal, Lakartans are lizard-like in appearance. They stand on average at 5 " 8, and possess a mostly humanoid shape. However their heads appear like that of a raptor from earth, with it being a snout with a set of razor sharp teeth, along with a set of five claws (each retractable, as so they can use tools) to match. Their eyes, are wide-set, and so they have 20/20 vision in a 240 degree angle, like Earth's old prey animals. They have a series of fine scales, like a snake's, covering almost the entirety of their skin, sans the bottoms of their feet and the palms of their hands. This is because on these places, Lakartans have a series of millions of tiny adhesive hairs that they can use to stick to almost any surface, even while underwater, or even in space. This causes all Lakartans to wear clothes without either shoes or gloves (Though gloves can be made with the palms removed). They can be of any color, ranging from Black, white, red, blue, green, yellow, and everything in between.
Diet: Mostly carnivorous, they usually eat either fish, or a species of rodent native to their planet that is considered a delicacy.
Behavior: They are hard to characterize as a whole, but more often then not, they are an industrious, though slightly suspicious people. They love to invent (Mostly weaponry, but they have been known to work on almost anything that captures their interest. They treat their own people well (Introducing each other as "Brother" or "Sister", due to their species-wide religion), and while they often do treat other species well, they don't show the same warmness they do their own race. This is usually seen as an act of racisim, but it is actually in part due to the newness of the Lakartans on the Galactic stage.
Physiology: The larkartans are on whole an athletic bunch. This is mostly due to their predatory build, which allows them to be flexible by having special muscles designed to dislocate their bones, and having them be able to leap an average of 3 meters when perched on a wall, though medical advances could increase this by a good percent. They also can run for long distances without resting due to enlarged lungs. They can usually sprint at speeds of 25 miles per hour for a good 30 minutes, while they can walk or jog for several hours without resting. One last important tidbit is their claws, which due to their religion, they sharpen ceremoniously so that they are as sharp as any combat knife. This usually leads most Lakartan to prefer their own natural weapons over manufactured ones.
Language: The Lakartans speak in an incredibly simply language, with everything having only one word to it, and it is almost unheard of for anything to have more than 4 syllables, though their most sacred religious icons have long and poetic names. This makes it an easy language to learn, as there is no "Lakartan Thesaurus" or variations of words to remember. It can be written in English easily, along with it's original alphabet, which is likewise simple as well.
Name: Dirge Renoktan
Age: 35 (Lakartans live almost as long as humans, about 80 years)
Race: Lakartan
Gender: Male
Appearance: He is considered well-looking by his specie's standards, as he is slightly taller then average (about 6 foot), and his scales, which are all jet-black (sans a small white patch on his back, which is a mark of good fortune in Lakartan soceity), are polished to a shine, something he does daily after a bathing. He commonly wears two types of clothing, his "civvie" outfit and his combat suit. His civvie clothes include a loose bright orange shirt, and long red pants, with no shoes. His combat suit is a usually camouflaged to the environment, and consist of a dark colored (Hopefully) shirt with the sleeves rolled up, cargo pants with a hole cut out for his tail, and a tool belt where he stores his guns and cloaking device.
Faction: Kurast Dominion
Homeplanet: Tionterram
Weapons: His GTC-4 .25 automatic Pistol (silenced) and his own claws.
Misc items: A pocket sized religious book, and an amulet he wears at all time that has a blood-red diamond hanging from a dull gold chain.
Role: Scout
Bio: He was born into a lesser house of royalty on his planet, and because of the spot on his back, his parents believed he would bring their house onto the throne of the planet. Because of his high expectations (of which he was never told why), he began to resent his parents, and secretly he hoped to leave his planet for good. So when his planet not only made first contact with the launch of their first space telescope, but also their quick induction into the Kurast Dominion, Dirge saw a way to not only leave his planet, but see the rest of what the galaxy had to offer. He was one of the first in his race to sign up for the Dominion's armed forces, and he quickly proved both his skills at CQC and his own racial abilities made him a great solider, and so he was given a test-spot as an investigator to find out what happened to the Aiora
Age: 35 (Lakartans live almost as long as humans, about 80 years)
Race: Lakartan
Gender: Male
Appearance: He is considered well-looking by his specie's standards, as he is slightly taller then average (about 6 foot), and his scales, which are all jet-black (sans a small white patch on his back, which is a mark of good fortune in Lakartan soceity), are polished to a shine, something he does daily after a bathing. He commonly wears two types of clothing, his "civvie" outfit and his combat suit. His civvie clothes include a loose bright orange shirt, and long red pants, with no shoes. His combat suit is a usually camouflaged to the environment, and consist of a dark colored (Hopefully) shirt with the sleeves rolled up, cargo pants with a hole cut out for his tail, and a tool belt where he stores his guns and cloaking device.
Faction: Kurast Dominion
Homeplanet: Tionterram
Weapons: His GTC-4 .25 automatic Pistol (silenced) and his own claws.
Misc items: A pocket sized religious book, and an amulet he wears at all time that has a blood-red diamond hanging from a dull gold chain.
Role: Scout
Bio: He was born into a lesser house of royalty on his planet, and because of the spot on his back, his parents believed he would bring their house onto the throne of the planet. Because of his high expectations (of which he was never told why), he began to resent his parents, and secretly he hoped to leave his planet for good. So when his planet not only made first contact with the launch of their first space telescope, but also their quick induction into the Kurast Dominion, Dirge saw a way to not only leave his planet, but see the rest of what the galaxy had to offer. He was one of the first in his race to sign up for the Dominion's armed forces, and he quickly proved both his skills at CQC and his own racial abilities made him a great solider, and so he was given a test-spot as an investigator to find out what happened to the Aiora
Hope this isn't too late.
Okay. I removed any mention of the Odyessey from my character sheet and replaced it with something more general.
And, I know its a bit late for this Gent, but yes, if you still want to be an AI that the Sermians created, go ahead. Just know that your character could never harm mine, or allow mine to come to harm... and that you would have to follow my instructions... meaning that you'd probably be my assistant or bodyguard.
And, I know its a bit late for this Gent, but yes, if you still want to be an AI that the Sermians created, go ahead. Just know that your character could never harm mine, or allow mine to come to harm... and that you would have to follow my instructions... meaning that you'd probably be my assistant or bodyguard.
So your character looks like a spider? A big spider!TheDoctor455 said:
This should be interesting considering I speculate we might be spending time aboard the Odyssey, which probably isn't the largest ship out there. If it does come to that I am so, not sharing my room with you.
The estimate of 6 to 8 feet tall was made assuming that a Sermian stands in a position in which the full length of their legs and be seen (i.e. standing in a position similar to bipedal organisms), however, since Sermians rarely do that, they usually appear to be half as tall as that.Kaboose the Moose said:So your character looks like a spider? A big spider!TheDoctor455 said:
This should be interesting considering I speculate we might be spending time aboard the Odyssey, which probably isn't the largest ship out there. If it does come to that I am so, not sharing my room with you.
Hmm... like I said, Sermians can survive in moist environments, it just isn't terribly comfortable for them.avouleance2nd said:I don't think we can share a room either seeing as Lime needs a personal totem in his and her quarters so it rains.TheDoctor455 said:The estimate of 6 to 8 feet tall was made assuming that a Sermian stands in a position in which the full length of their legs and be seen (i.e. standing in a position similar to bipedal organisms), however, since Sermians rarely do that, they usually appear to be half as tall as that.Kaboose the Moose said:So your character looks like a spider? A big spider!TheDoctor455 said:
This should be interesting considering I speculate we might be spending time aboard the Odyssey, which probably isn't the largest ship out there. If it does come to that I am so, not sharing my room with you.
Name : David Wallace
Age : 28
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Tarrage, a large asteroid used as a ship graveyard near Vigon VI, was left desolate for years. Mostly inhabited by salvagers still finding a few odd drops and mercenaries ditching cargo.
Misc items : A Zippo like lighter with the eight of clubs engraved on the back.
Role : Engineer
And he's about 6 ft give or take
Age : 28
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Tarrage, a large asteroid used as a ship graveyard near Vigon VI, was left desolate for years. Mostly inhabited by salvagers still finding a few odd drops and mercenaries ditching cargo.
Misc items : A Zippo like lighter with the eight of clubs engraved on the back.
Role : Engineer
And he's about 6 ft give or take
Weapons: CLS-N29 SMG: Semiautomatic, blowback operated firearm with twin fire modes; burst fire and rapid fire. Fires the standard 9x19mm round.
Modified portable plasma cutter- After playing with a plasma torch David found given a little lee way with discharge mechanism the fuel cells could sent a little farther than intended. This current mod can send a charge 20 metres. Two fuel cells maximum load. Fires out the back of the cutter, can make for an interesting mistake if left about carelessly.
Concussion grenade and a stun grenade/
A combat knife and anti-material vest with redistribution meshing
Modified portable plasma cutter- After playing with a plasma torch David found given a little lee way with discharge mechanism the fuel cells could sent a little farther than intended. This current mod can send a charge 20 metres. Two fuel cells maximum load. Fires out the back of the cutter, can make for an interesting mistake if left about carelessly.
Concussion grenade and a stun grenade/
A combat knife and anti-material vest with redistribution meshing
"Damn grastach is strong, you'd almost think that smuggler had made this stuff a little more volatile. I guess I oughta keep a log of events, wouldn't make much sense not to leave a legacy." *a loud metallic screech sounds* "I'm aboard the Sahara at the moment, some Earth relic piece of shit, surprised it ain't fallen out the sky yet, every time I look at the engine it makes me laugh. Works off an old old mark one Peruvian, my gran daddy probably didn't know what one is, his grandad mightah though. I tell you now if a enforcer catches us with that engine he'll.... Well I guess the engine wouldn't be his first concern what with trinkets we have acquired on this forsaken bucket of rust.
Let's see, I come from astara, a small backwater planet you'd think, or hope had been left for dead. Da was dropped out there with me for doing god knows what, probably upset my Ma, she was a captain of some fancy ship nearest I could figure, but my only source of information on that subject also claims she was some unholy figure coming the bleekness with a temper of one those birds on delwater 5. Anyways, I made my trade fixin parts out of scrap heaps and selling on to prudent investors, or assholes as my da used to call'em. About fifteen years back I picked up on a merc cruiser pretending to be a mechanic. Ain't seen me da since. Anyways turns out the only difference between me and an actual mechanic was years of fumbling through engines to find working parts, and then ya know, attaching'em to other working parts rather than pulling'em.
That job got cut short a few months in though, the authorities picked me up and thought I was older than I was. They put me in to be a qualified engineer so I could help fight the Sorrons, no offence or nothing, but I didn't have time to be fighting a seth lovers war, for some egits with suits. Once I'd finished my training I was serving aboard SCN Forno, I was the only fully trained engineer, the rest of my team were half asked scum like me who got rushed through training. Anyways we got to thinking we could just stroll out the place. So the next time we hit a dead zone we took the engines offline and sent a distress signal, mercs were on top of us before we could crack open the whiskey. Anyway, a few of us had connections so we ended up on another Merc ship making headway to paradise. The rest is just jobs, smugglin, shooting and a little bit of stealing here and there. Okay alot of stealin got me kicked off a ship that, then I ended up on this wonder."
"So what else, oh yeah, a job a few months ago I ran into darla agai" * A man is shouting something, most of it is inaudible* "the hell you mean the air filters aren't, I just routed the damn things through the secondarys.... When was someone going to tell me the secondarys ain't been working, since when no..."
Let's see, I come from astara, a small backwater planet you'd think, or hope had been left for dead. Da was dropped out there with me for doing god knows what, probably upset my Ma, she was a captain of some fancy ship nearest I could figure, but my only source of information on that subject also claims she was some unholy figure coming the bleekness with a temper of one those birds on delwater 5. Anyways, I made my trade fixin parts out of scrap heaps and selling on to prudent investors, or assholes as my da used to call'em. About fifteen years back I picked up on a merc cruiser pretending to be a mechanic. Ain't seen me da since. Anyways turns out the only difference between me and an actual mechanic was years of fumbling through engines to find working parts, and then ya know, attaching'em to other working parts rather than pulling'em.
That job got cut short a few months in though, the authorities picked me up and thought I was older than I was. They put me in to be a qualified engineer so I could help fight the Sorrons, no offence or nothing, but I didn't have time to be fighting a seth lovers war, for some egits with suits. Once I'd finished my training I was serving aboard SCN Forno, I was the only fully trained engineer, the rest of my team were half asked scum like me who got rushed through training. Anyways we got to thinking we could just stroll out the place. So the next time we hit a dead zone we took the engines offline and sent a distress signal, mercs were on top of us before we could crack open the whiskey. Anyway, a few of us had connections so we ended up on another Merc ship making headway to paradise. The rest is just jobs, smugglin, shooting and a little bit of stealing here and there. Okay alot of stealin got me kicked off a ship that, then I ended up on this wonder."
"So what else, oh yeah, a job a few months ago I ran into darla agai" * A man is shouting something, most of it is inaudible* "the hell you mean the air filters aren't, I just routed the damn things through the secondarys.... When was someone going to tell me the secondarys ain't been working, since when no..."
Oh, far too many engineers
re-write in progressName : David Wallace
Age : 28
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Faction : JCA
Homeplanet: Shipborn aboard the Aesirth son of a diplomat
Role : Diplomat
And he's about 6 ft give or take-hey a picture is worth more than thousand words. This picture would have been taken when he was serving against the Sorrons.
Age : 28
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Faction : JCA
Homeplanet: Shipborn aboard the Aesirth son of a diplomat
Role : Diplomat
And he's about 6 ft give or take-hey a picture is worth more than thousand words. This picture would have been taken when he was serving against the Sorrons.
Weapons: Si'aan plasma blaster: Similar caliber to the Taurus pistol but fires the more powerful plasma bolt. Has a significant longer cooldown between shots but has a significantly higher firepower for a handgun.
-few weapons, hope thats okay I didn't think a diplomat would have any bar a pistol.
Reactive body vest(similar to the armor, but less protection and designed to be worn under clothes)
Misc items : A Zippo like lighter with the eight of clubs engraved on the back.(His fathers)
-few weapons, hope thats okay I didn't think a diplomat would have any bar a pistol.
Reactive body vest(similar to the armor, but less protection and designed to be worn under clothes)
Misc items : A Zippo like lighter with the eight of clubs engraved on the back.(His fathers)
"This is diplomat David Wallaces journal, if you're listening to this either I'm gone or you are in breach of section five of JCA laws and statutes surrounding diplomats. This log, to the best of my knowledge contains no sensitive information, I acknowledge that any sensitive information that is divulged will likely result in my incarceration or execution under the darkwater protocol, this recording is only to be used in the event that my death or other restraining circumstance has left the missions details unrecoverable and that the person viewing this has third level diplomatic clearance.
I am currently aboard *sighs* a ship; this ship will be rendezvousing with the Kurast dominion in an attempt to.... well we will be meeting with several high ranking figures among the kurasts in an attempt to free up trade routes between, between planets in a contested system." David pauses the recording, why do they make us write these things, they contain no valuable information and eat up my time David thought while pushing the recording aside rumours of ships missing, tensions rising between the JCA and kryllians, and to top it all off a damaged warship has been taken by mercs. Meanwhile I make meaningless logs of trading disputes.
David rises from his chair and looks out the window, the Aesirth MKII wasn't the vessel intended for this mission, however several malfunctions on the Ralbourne had allowed him to request this ship instead. It had fewer windows than the mark one, but the spacious rooms and compartments were close to the originals. To think twelve years ago I was a marine fighting Sorrons at close quarters aboard warships, heck the battle of Anthem was probably the closest I'd ever come to bieng another statisic he felt at the scar on his cheek. Still fighting I guess, apart from now I use words instead of a gun. He glances at his pistol I wonder if I can still shoot straight.
David was on a diplomatic vessel the Aesirth MKI, he never really knew much about his father other than that he lived on a ship graveyard called Terran, he was then transferred to through several alliance academies. He was trained as an officer among a marine task force serving on the Nebula, at the end of the war he took up more studies and trained as a diplomat. The Aesirth MKI was shot down toward the end of the war with his mother on board.
I am currently aboard *sighs* a ship; this ship will be rendezvousing with the Kurast dominion in an attempt to.... well we will be meeting with several high ranking figures among the kurasts in an attempt to free up trade routes between, between planets in a contested system." David pauses the recording, why do they make us write these things, they contain no valuable information and eat up my time David thought while pushing the recording aside rumours of ships missing, tensions rising between the JCA and kryllians, and to top it all off a damaged warship has been taken by mercs. Meanwhile I make meaningless logs of trading disputes.
David rises from his chair and looks out the window, the Aesirth MKII wasn't the vessel intended for this mission, however several malfunctions on the Ralbourne had allowed him to request this ship instead. It had fewer windows than the mark one, but the spacious rooms and compartments were close to the originals. To think twelve years ago I was a marine fighting Sorrons at close quarters aboard warships, heck the battle of Anthem was probably the closest I'd ever come to bieng another statisic he felt at the scar on his cheek. Still fighting I guess, apart from now I use words instead of a gun. He glances at his pistol I wonder if I can still shoot straight.
David was on a diplomatic vessel the Aesirth MKI, he never really knew much about his father other than that he lived on a ship graveyard called Terran, he was then transferred to through several alliance academies. He was trained as an officer among a marine task force serving on the Nebula, at the end of the war he took up more studies and trained as a diplomat. The Aesirth MKI was shot down toward the end of the war with his mother on board.
[HEADING=1]Accepted Characters[/HEADING]
Name : Felix Leone (pronounced Lee-own-ay)
Age : 33
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Appearance: Roughly 5'9", purple eyes as a result of gene modification as a child, . He is roughly 200 pounds standard gravity, most of which is muscle. His right arm is a cybernetic prosthetic, moderately stronger than a normal human's arm. He keeps his dark brown hair cut short, and his face clean-shaven.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Tagon-Breya, a small, yet densely populated satellite of Capthillius.
Weapons: SAL "Centurion" Revolver, EPR-57 Shotgun
EPR-57: Manufactured by Macris Ballistics, an independent firearms company who sells their blueprints to either the JCA or the Kurast Dominion, whoever pays the most the fastest. The EPR-57 has an 18-round tubular magazine, capable of firing both buck shot and plasma slugs. (Felix favors the slugs for accuracy and stopping power.) Felix affectionately refers to his EPR-57 as "the Bastard."
Misc items : His father's JCA dog tags, and his machete, the blade of which has been carbonized to prevent glare shining off of it.
Role: Security Officer
Bio: Felix is the eldest son of Matthew Leone, an ex-JCA infantry officer. While initially vastly supportive of the JCA, Felix grew an unrivaled hatred for the organization when his father was unjustly court-martialed and dishonorably discharged as a result of a mistake made by one the higher-ups. His father, a veteran of the Great War, had taken the time to teach the JCA's special CQC techniques to him, resulting in a very strong, loyal bond between father and son.
As a result, whenever someone works with Felix for a long enough time, he forms a bond with them, whether they like it or not, and he will defend to the death said someone. He is intensely loyal, but not to a fault. If his commander is doing something he doesn't approve of, he'll either bring up his discontent, or just leave. A trait which has actually saved his life more than once, backing out of an especially shady contract is a skill all veteran mercs learn sooner or later, but Felix has an uncanny knack for it.
After the success of the past few contracts, he has decided to try to take advantage of his winning streak by taking on bigger and more elaborate contracts.
Age : 33
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Appearance: Roughly 5'9", purple eyes as a result of gene modification as a child, . He is roughly 200 pounds standard gravity, most of which is muscle. His right arm is a cybernetic prosthetic, moderately stronger than a normal human's arm. He keeps his dark brown hair cut short, and his face clean-shaven.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Tagon-Breya, a small, yet densely populated satellite of Capthillius.
Weapons: SAL "Centurion" Revolver, EPR-57 Shotgun
EPR-57: Manufactured by Macris Ballistics, an independent firearms company who sells their blueprints to either the JCA or the Kurast Dominion, whoever pays the most the fastest. The EPR-57 has an 18-round tubular magazine, capable of firing both buck shot and plasma slugs. (Felix favors the slugs for accuracy and stopping power.) Felix affectionately refers to his EPR-57 as "the Bastard."
Misc items : His father's JCA dog tags, and his machete, the blade of which has been carbonized to prevent glare shining off of it.
Role: Security Officer
Bio: Felix is the eldest son of Matthew Leone, an ex-JCA infantry officer. While initially vastly supportive of the JCA, Felix grew an unrivaled hatred for the organization when his father was unjustly court-martialed and dishonorably discharged as a result of a mistake made by one the higher-ups. His father, a veteran of the Great War, had taken the time to teach the JCA's special CQC techniques to him, resulting in a very strong, loyal bond between father and son.
As a result, whenever someone works with Felix for a long enough time, he forms a bond with them, whether they like it or not, and he will defend to the death said someone. He is intensely loyal, but not to a fault. If his commander is doing something he doesn't approve of, he'll either bring up his discontent, or just leave. A trait which has actually saved his life more than once, backing out of an especially shady contract is a skill all veteran mercs learn sooner or later, but Felix has an uncanny knack for it.
After the success of the past few contracts, he has decided to try to take advantage of his winning streak by taking on bigger and more elaborate contracts.
Agent Name: Marcus Blank
Codename: Hunter
Faction: Kurast Dominion
Specialisation: Detection - Growing up in the low-visibilty deserts of Tigrinya has gifted Blank sharp eyes.
Perk: Tactical Gear
Tactical equipment: Grappling hook modification attachable to his hunting crossbow.
Magnetic Lockpick
Companion details: N/A
Weapon details: see original character sheet for standard weapons.
Armour details: see original character sheet for standard armour
Agent Background:
After a growing suspicion concerning his parent's deaths, Blank did some personal digging around and found out that it was an unknown JCA Special Operative.
The reason behind the killing's has something to do with his father's brief history as a Dominion soldier, but Blank is still unsure of the details.
The loss of his family has ingrained a deep hatred for the JCA and has only strengthened his resolve to do right by the Dominion, tear down the JCA and make his parent's killer pay.
Codename: Hunter
Faction: Kurast Dominion
Specialisation: Detection - Growing up in the low-visibilty deserts of Tigrinya has gifted Blank sharp eyes.
Perk: Tactical Gear
Tactical equipment: Grappling hook modification attachable to his hunting crossbow.
Magnetic Lockpick
Companion details: N/A
Weapon details: see original character sheet for standard weapons.
Armour details: see original character sheet for standard armour
Agent Background:
After a growing suspicion concerning his parent's deaths, Blank did some personal digging around and found out that it was an unknown JCA Special Operative.
The reason behind the killing's has something to do with his father's brief history as a Dominion soldier, but Blank is still unsure of the details.
The loss of his family has ingrained a deep hatred for the JCA and has only strengthened his resolve to do right by the Dominion, tear down the JCA and make his parent's killer pay.
Name : Lime (Most Crelm are just named the whatever their shade is in English)
Age : 114
Race: Crelm
Gender : Both
Appearance: Even for a Crelm Lime is well built he and she is about 7 feet tall and their three prime eyes are the usual bright orange. To people not used to the species there is little to differentiate her and him from other Crelm asides from their height. Like most Crelm when dealing with Humans Lime "wears" their shade this is mainly out of courtesy but partly to put others at ease. Most species find it rather uncomfortable to have an almost invisible predator around.
Faction : JCA
Homeplanet: The Crelm home world
Weapons: Lime fights with a combination of Alliance weapons (modified to be tentacle friendly) and the Crelm specific weapons. For most missions Lime takes
1 pressure ram: This is the Crelm standard gun similar in size shape and function to a small shot gun but more organic in appearance. Instead of firing standard ammo it fires a pulse of compressed gasses knocking back the target with bone crushing force. It takes a few seconds to arm (which it does by absorbing gas into it is barrel through a semi-permeable membrane) but like all Crelm tech it can function in and out of water.
1G-3C7 "Taurus" laser pistol: Two modes of fire; single shot (powerful burst but slow rate of fire) and blaster (faster rate of fire but longer cool-down required)
2 Thermobaric grenades
and Given the Crelm weakness to blades (one of the downsides of being rather soft) Lime doesn't carry a knife instead carrying a small Crelm hammer about as long as a human forearm. It is built from the shells of the Super Crustaceans native to the Crelm home-world and while not as manoeuvrable as the blades others use it has serious weight and is pretty good at breaking armour.
Misc items : A personal Totem for use when visiting dry worlds and for ensuring it rains in Limes quarters on the ship.
Also a state of the art water proof Translation Orb which floats around Lime helping him and her to communicate with the other species and finally a tank of live super shrimp for food.
Role : Science officer
Bio : Growing up in the Crelm Capital, which the humans call Nelltra, Lime was in the diplomatic centre of the Crelm world. Even when the other sentient species were only just arriving Nelltra was a bustling city.
Most Crelm were tentative of other cultures but certain Celibates (they are the ones that lead the Crelm, mainly because they are the oldest/ most experienced) saw the diplomatic potential. Lime was very young at the time and both his and her parents having given birth had no real guardian, for this reason he and she was selected as part of a cultural exchange program.
The Crelm would send 100 of their best soldiers to be trained as part of the Alliance military.
Thanks to a rather great performance combined with the Crelm's natural talents Lime was selected to be one of the First Crelm special operatives. This and a pretty good knowledge of Crelm environmental manipulation (nothing unusual for someone Celibate educated) gave Lime the qualifications required to work on most human ships on board as a science officer with the occasional bit of field work.
Personality- Apart from the predator complex affecting all Crelm (not their fault they just happen to be predators) that gives them the attitude that all other species are just prey, which thankfully most Crelm can suppress for diplomacy. Lime is obsessed with precession to the point she and he actually suffers a sort of OCD withdrawal when doing things on the fly.
As well as this Lime is very curious sometimes recklessly so. This can make trans-species relationships, romantic or not, difficult when you take in to account most Crelm have no concept of privacy.
Other info- Like all Crelm Lime can't wear armour for two reasons:
1 the skin is used to breathe so wearing anything partially suffocates them.
2 Crelm skin is covered in small eyes giving them a complete sphere of vision, the use of any armour restricts this which most Crelm find deeply unconformable.
For these reasons Lime is even more reliant on stealth
Age : 114
Race: Crelm
Gender : Both
Appearance: Even for a Crelm Lime is well built he and she is about 7 feet tall and their three prime eyes are the usual bright orange. To people not used to the species there is little to differentiate her and him from other Crelm asides from their height. Like most Crelm when dealing with Humans Lime "wears" their shade this is mainly out of courtesy but partly to put others at ease. Most species find it rather uncomfortable to have an almost invisible predator around.
Faction : JCA
Homeplanet: The Crelm home world
Weapons: Lime fights with a combination of Alliance weapons (modified to be tentacle friendly) and the Crelm specific weapons. For most missions Lime takes
1 pressure ram: This is the Crelm standard gun similar in size shape and function to a small shot gun but more organic in appearance. Instead of firing standard ammo it fires a pulse of compressed gasses knocking back the target with bone crushing force. It takes a few seconds to arm (which it does by absorbing gas into it is barrel through a semi-permeable membrane) but like all Crelm tech it can function in and out of water.
1G-3C7 "Taurus" laser pistol: Two modes of fire; single shot (powerful burst but slow rate of fire) and blaster (faster rate of fire but longer cool-down required)
2 Thermobaric grenades
and Given the Crelm weakness to blades (one of the downsides of being rather soft) Lime doesn't carry a knife instead carrying a small Crelm hammer about as long as a human forearm. It is built from the shells of the Super Crustaceans native to the Crelm home-world and while not as manoeuvrable as the blades others use it has serious weight and is pretty good at breaking armour.
Misc items : A personal Totem for use when visiting dry worlds and for ensuring it rains in Limes quarters on the ship.
Also a state of the art water proof Translation Orb which floats around Lime helping him and her to communicate with the other species and finally a tank of live super shrimp for food.
Role : Science officer
Bio : Growing up in the Crelm Capital, which the humans call Nelltra, Lime was in the diplomatic centre of the Crelm world. Even when the other sentient species were only just arriving Nelltra was a bustling city.
Most Crelm were tentative of other cultures but certain Celibates (they are the ones that lead the Crelm, mainly because they are the oldest/ most experienced) saw the diplomatic potential. Lime was very young at the time and both his and her parents having given birth had no real guardian, for this reason he and she was selected as part of a cultural exchange program.
The Crelm would send 100 of their best soldiers to be trained as part of the Alliance military.
Thanks to a rather great performance combined with the Crelm's natural talents Lime was selected to be one of the First Crelm special operatives. This and a pretty good knowledge of Crelm environmental manipulation (nothing unusual for someone Celibate educated) gave Lime the qualifications required to work on most human ships on board as a science officer with the occasional bit of field work.
Personality- Apart from the predator complex affecting all Crelm (not their fault they just happen to be predators) that gives them the attitude that all other species are just prey, which thankfully most Crelm can suppress for diplomacy. Lime is obsessed with precession to the point she and he actually suffers a sort of OCD withdrawal when doing things on the fly.
As well as this Lime is very curious sometimes recklessly so. This can make trans-species relationships, romantic or not, difficult when you take in to account most Crelm have no concept of privacy.
Other info- Like all Crelm Lime can't wear armour for two reasons:
1 the skin is used to breathe so wearing anything partially suffocates them.
2 Crelm skin is covered in small eyes giving them a complete sphere of vision, the use of any armour restricts this which most Crelm find deeply unconformable.
For these reasons Lime is even more reliant on stealth
Name : Shard Iceblood
Age : 26
Race: Human.
Gender : Male
Appearance: : Like many Telchar natives, Shard is a bit on the short side, standing only 5'9. However, years of mining ore and trudging through show have made him powerfully muscled with strong legs for leaping and kicking. Shard has thick shoulder-length blond hair and a blond beard as well as light-green eyes. His arms and hands are covered in scars from various fights.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Shard is from the small moon of Telchar. A small moon in Kurast Dominion space, Telchar is owned by the MerComFleet Corporation which purchased it from the tribal groups native to the moon. A frozen, ice filled moon covered in glaciers, ice storms and ice-cold waters, the natives exist by fishing, hunting and working in the fish-processing and ore-mining facilities built by the corporation.
Weapons: TTR-6X Cobalt Shotgun modified to fire both shells and rounds of non-lethal compressed air powerful enough to knock down and stun a full grown man.
SAL "Centurion" revolver
Telchar tribal spike-knife
Concussion grenades.
Misc items : Telchar Tribal Shark-tooth Pendant
Green Wool hat
Anti-material vest with redistribution meshing
Telchar coat
Bottle of Selnik Whiskey
Role : Tactical officer
Bio : For the first 16 years of his life, Shard grew up on Telchar, starting work in the ore mines when he was 12. He hated the work and longed to leave the frozen moon. Brash and short-tempered, Shard met and impressed a security chief on a corporate transport ship taking a delivery of processed fish off the small moon.
The man, Timothy Stevens, took Shard on as his apprentice, teaching him about weapons, combat and tactical skills, as well as how to read and write. The two of them rose in the company ranks as skilled security personnel, fighting off everything from pirates to mutinies. When Stevens was killed in an engine explosion on a transport ship he was providing security for, and unfairly blamed by the company for the accident, a disgusted Shard quit and set off on his own. He was 21 at the time.
Over the next 5 years, Shard bounced from company to company and ship to ship, hiring himself out as a security chief on various vessels or a gun for hire. While never staying in one place long, Shard quickly gained the reputation as a brutal combatant and a man who would risk anything and get the job done, if a bit of a drunk.
Age : 26
Race: Human.
Gender : Male
Appearance: : Like many Telchar natives, Shard is a bit on the short side, standing only 5'9. However, years of mining ore and trudging through show have made him powerfully muscled with strong legs for leaping and kicking. Shard has thick shoulder-length blond hair and a blond beard as well as light-green eyes. His arms and hands are covered in scars from various fights.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Shard is from the small moon of Telchar. A small moon in Kurast Dominion space, Telchar is owned by the MerComFleet Corporation which purchased it from the tribal groups native to the moon. A frozen, ice filled moon covered in glaciers, ice storms and ice-cold waters, the natives exist by fishing, hunting and working in the fish-processing and ore-mining facilities built by the corporation.
Weapons: TTR-6X Cobalt Shotgun modified to fire both shells and rounds of non-lethal compressed air powerful enough to knock down and stun a full grown man.
SAL "Centurion" revolver
Telchar tribal spike-knife
Concussion grenades.
Misc items : Telchar Tribal Shark-tooth Pendant
Green Wool hat
Anti-material vest with redistribution meshing
Telchar coat
Bottle of Selnik Whiskey
Role : Tactical officer
Bio : For the first 16 years of his life, Shard grew up on Telchar, starting work in the ore mines when he was 12. He hated the work and longed to leave the frozen moon. Brash and short-tempered, Shard met and impressed a security chief on a corporate transport ship taking a delivery of processed fish off the small moon.
The man, Timothy Stevens, took Shard on as his apprentice, teaching him about weapons, combat and tactical skills, as well as how to read and write. The two of them rose in the company ranks as skilled security personnel, fighting off everything from pirates to mutinies. When Stevens was killed in an engine explosion on a transport ship he was providing security for, and unfairly blamed by the company for the accident, a disgusted Shard quit and set off on his own. He was 21 at the time.
Over the next 5 years, Shard bounced from company to company and ship to ship, hiring himself out as a security chief on various vessels or a gun for hire. While never staying in one place long, Shard quickly gained the reputation as a brutal combatant and a man who would risk anything and get the job done, if a bit of a drunk.
Name: Logan "Roach" Rift
Age: 28
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: Logan stands at an average height of 6'1". His piercing green eyes and black hair makes him stand out amongst the crowd but more so for his blue beanie that he wears to every conceivable occasion.
Faction: Mercenary
Homeplanet: Vorenus Prime in the Dun-Karrack System
Weapons: His CLS-N29 Sub Machine Gun (Primary), the dual ASCA "Viper" pistols (secondary), 2 concussion grenades and the combat knife (default)
Misc Items: Pack of gum, a small incumbriated compass and a map of the galaxy
Occupation: Pilot
Bio: Curiosity had always been right up Logan's alley. As a child he loved spending his time gazing up at the stars, reading about far away places and galaxies and loved living a fantasy explorer's life. Perhaps it was in his blood to explore, after all he was the son to both a famous stellar cartographer and a commander in the Colonial Navy. Or perhaps it was just destiny. An only child growing up on Vorenus Prime, a volcanic planet shrouded by a massive planetary ring system, where the splendor of the final frontier could only be witnessed at dawn and dusk. Who wouldn't want to take a step further and see what else space had to offer?
Whatever the cause was, Logan had only one passion in life; to become a pilot and travel the stars.
At age 18 he sat through the NAPCAT exam and passed with flying colours and was offered a spot to join the prestigious Constellation Academy where he would be thought by the best and brightest minds in the field to become a renowned space pilot or "Navigational Engineer" as they were referred to.
Two years passed and while Logan quickly mastered the basic and advanced sections of navigational training, he found that he needed to dabble in something more challenging to set himself apart from his peers at the academy. So one day, when the combination of boredom and alcohol went catastrophically awry, Logan found himself "borrowing" a Space Junker to test some unconventional navigation protocols in JCA space..without clearance. By the time the authorities were alerted and managed to board the commandeered Junker, Logan had already invented two new space-faring maneuvers (one that would be later dubbed "The Roach Approach") and had traveled the greatest distance across the void into Dominion territory without being detected. His actions, while impressive, were deemed reckless and irresponsible and thus was promptly disqualified from the academy. On the account of piloting under the influence, negligence and subjected to criminal charges, Logan was banned from piloting any air and space vessels for seventeen years. Barred from his life's passion, he retreated to the outer clusters of space in hopes of redemption.
It wasn't until a chance encounter in a pub on Salvatore IV, a distant mining moon in the Smuggler's Nebulae, that Logan stumbled upon his salvation. A mercenary guild was looking for a pilot who was wiling to take risks for some off the record aid missions to the far reach planets. The captain needed a pilot and Logan needed something to fly, it was a match made in heaven. Ever since then Logan came to appreciate the world and freedoms of the Mercenary creed and he never looked back. During his time with this renegade faction he earned the nickname "Roach", for being unfazed like a bug.
Age: 28
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Appearance: Logan stands at an average height of 6'1". His piercing green eyes and black hair makes him stand out amongst the crowd but more so for his blue beanie that he wears to every conceivable occasion.
Faction: Mercenary
Homeplanet: Vorenus Prime in the Dun-Karrack System
Weapons: His CLS-N29 Sub Machine Gun (Primary), the dual ASCA "Viper" pistols (secondary), 2 concussion grenades and the combat knife (default)
Misc Items: Pack of gum, a small incumbriated compass and a map of the galaxy
Occupation: Pilot
Bio: Curiosity had always been right up Logan's alley. As a child he loved spending his time gazing up at the stars, reading about far away places and galaxies and loved living a fantasy explorer's life. Perhaps it was in his blood to explore, after all he was the son to both a famous stellar cartographer and a commander in the Colonial Navy. Or perhaps it was just destiny. An only child growing up on Vorenus Prime, a volcanic planet shrouded by a massive planetary ring system, where the splendor of the final frontier could only be witnessed at dawn and dusk. Who wouldn't want to take a step further and see what else space had to offer?
Whatever the cause was, Logan had only one passion in life; to become a pilot and travel the stars.
At age 18 he sat through the NAPCAT exam and passed with flying colours and was offered a spot to join the prestigious Constellation Academy where he would be thought by the best and brightest minds in the field to become a renowned space pilot or "Navigational Engineer" as they were referred to.
Two years passed and while Logan quickly mastered the basic and advanced sections of navigational training, he found that he needed to dabble in something more challenging to set himself apart from his peers at the academy. So one day, when the combination of boredom and alcohol went catastrophically awry, Logan found himself "borrowing" a Space Junker to test some unconventional navigation protocols in JCA space..without clearance. By the time the authorities were alerted and managed to board the commandeered Junker, Logan had already invented two new space-faring maneuvers (one that would be later dubbed "The Roach Approach") and had traveled the greatest distance across the void into Dominion territory without being detected. His actions, while impressive, were deemed reckless and irresponsible and thus was promptly disqualified from the academy. On the account of piloting under the influence, negligence and subjected to criminal charges, Logan was banned from piloting any air and space vessels for seventeen years. Barred from his life's passion, he retreated to the outer clusters of space in hopes of redemption.
It wasn't until a chance encounter in a pub on Salvatore IV, a distant mining moon in the Smuggler's Nebulae, that Logan stumbled upon his salvation. A mercenary guild was looking for a pilot who was wiling to take risks for some off the record aid missions to the far reach planets. The captain needed a pilot and Logan needed something to fly, it was a match made in heaven. Ever since then Logan came to appreciate the world and freedoms of the Mercenary creed and he never looked back. During his time with this renegade faction he earned the nickname "Roach", for being unfazed like a bug.
Agent Name: Michael Ialim
Codename: Regret
Faction: JCA
Specialization: Gun Smith
Perk: Companion
Tactical equipment: Grappling Hook
Michael Ialim was born on the world of Gicter-Tialum Prime, a world within the mid-rim colonies of the Allied Council. The planet was composed largely of the middle class, with Michael himself being part of the upper middle class, the son of a politician. During the first fifteen years of his life, Michael was taught to be a good upstanding citizen. To obey his parent, the law, and the rule of the Allied Council. He was a smart, young, kind boy who believed that every human was good inside. He held on to that belief until the Allied-Sorron War began.
His planet was not one of those whose suns were drained for resources, or their planets incinerated and crush to ash, but the effects were still apparent. A small force of Sorron forces arrived to that planet, cut off and isolated from the main fleet, to assault the planet. Almost immediately, the population of the world crumbled. It's population, consumed with fear, turned into animals, who believed they had nothing to lose. They invaded his house, and though he successfully hid in between the walls, he saw his father butchered and his mother raped by the crowd. Though they burnt the house down, Michael survived from the wreckage. He wandered the streets, attempting to ask help from those he once knew as friends. They, seeing his condition, spurned him out into the streets. So he learned his first lesson, in the end, everyone was an animal inside. Even though they yelled and screamed at the Alliance Dogs who left them to die, all Michael saw were dogs as their dwelling burnt to the ground. He hated them, both for their ugliness, and their hypocrisy.
Sorron forces clashed with Gicter-Tialum Planetary Defense Forces. Due to their act of defense, they delayed their planet's destruction by 2 hours. Michael found an escape ship, filled to the brim with refugees and he found himself amongst a gaggle of children. They were like him, lost and confused, but unlike him they were still soft. Still weak. Michael hated them too. They reminded him of what he was. When it came time for him to board, he found his way cut off by a eighteen year old who decided that he was the perfect plaything to boss around. Michael looked around him, and noticed that the children he had met earlier began to distance themselves from him, some even joining in with the older child's thoughts. Michael acted first, intending to release all the hatred in his heart onto the fifteen year old's pimply face. When it was over, his opponent was sniveling on the ground, begging for mercy. He looked around again, the children were avoiding the one on the ground now, and insulted him as though they were always on Michael's side. So it was that he learnt another lesson, everyone respected power.
So their craft left, and Michael could see his planet forced into a size smaller than a pinhead as Sorron forces utilized black hole generators on the planet, killing the entire planet's population. They left, and realized that those Sorron forces were likely the last of their kind. The war was over.
Michael found themselves denied into Alliance territory. Michael heard a gaggle of reasons, from reconstruction to insufficient space for all those people but he could see they were lying. His father, before he died, taught him the signs of a liar, and the man was lying through his teeth. Even then, it was obvious enough that with the large amount of Alliance forces, that they had the capacity to repel Sorron forces in the first place. Though the rest of the people on his ship yelled about them being unjust, he laughed, and some thought him insane. But he laughed not because his mind cracked, but because the thought of Liars and Murderers complaining to other Liars and Murderers was Hilarious.
So they moved to the fast organizing Dominion space. While he was taken cared off in some orphanage for kids without parents, he snorted at that, a lie to make the liars feel good about themselves, he still appreciated the assistance of the naive fools who helped him. Those who believed in patriotism, god, human decency, altruism. Whatever delusions they had was irrelevant to him, they helped him, so he was grateful for them.
He stayed there until he reached 18, where he was summarily inducted into the Dominion armed forces. No one took him in, both because he was too old and that the cynical black eyes they saw into seemed to both loathe and laugh at them. Seemingly both sickened and amused at them.
With his time in the army, his aggression was tempered by military training and discipline. He learnt a myriad of close combat techniques, how to move in the night without being detected, etc. It was noted that he could have excelled at anything he put his mind to, but he had a preference for weapons training.
He loved them, he loved them all. Pistols, Assault Rifles, Explosives, Flame Throwers! Oh god the Flame Throwers. He stayed in the Dominion Armed Forces, and believed he would have stayed there forever until he reached the age of 21.
He was one of the guards in a military encampment on a fairly armed outpost. It was such that, on one relatively peaceful night as they were all having dinner, the military camp exploded in plasma fire and experimental weaponry.
Michael was, like a good portion of the encampment, not yet battle tested. Unlike them though, he Loved it. He found that he loved the Plasma Weaponry being thrown against him almost as much as he loved flame throwers, damn those projectile weapons anyway. Fire was the way to go!
So it was that all of the Dominion forces with him died. Violently. Michael himself was saved only by the fact that an Armored vehicle saved him by being in the way of a particularly nasty looking weapon. Unlike any other sane human who would have attempted to run and hide, he went and tried to hunt down the one who did all of this, after taking any weapon he could find of course.
He eventually found him, an unexpectedly tired and old looking man. He was parked near a very impressive looking spacecraft and, naturally, Michael tried to kill him. The old bastard was particularly tough though, sensing the Magnetically Accelerated Round before it blew the better portion of his head away. Immediately after though, the old man vanished from sight. Michael guessed it was a stealth system, so he pulled out his flame thrower and burnt the surrounding area.
He managed to track the guy down and kill him after a few hours of fighting though. He was curious about the man though, and the fact that he killed his entire base. Probably ordered too as well. So he jumped onboard the ship, brining the old man's body with him and, after messing around with the autopilot, set the ship to wherever the hell the old man came from.
JCA forces found Specialist Doubt's ship, and his body, with Michael Ialim as the ship docked in JCA Special Forces Base code named Raven Rock. The previous story stated was what Michael Ialim's personal record stated when captured. It is unknown whether or not he is telling the truth.
However, it is a matter of record that, he was only supressed after encountering 3 teams of special operations operatives and eliminated 2 before that. He was given the option of working with the Special Operations Group of the JCA and accepted. Eagerly.
His only requirement is that each of his missions require either a low survival rate, or the termination of an organic being. The terms were accepted, and Observation-Combat Drone Reticent Inhibition was given to Agent Regret's care. Both to assist, and observe him.
Training proceeded, with Regret's skills being honed with to an admirable edge. As of this date, Regret is the JCA's premier marksman and has survived multiple attempts at his life. However, it is noted by JCA psychologists that Regret serves the JCA only because of his own reasons. He cares as much for the individual, or group, of JCA citizens with the same empathy he sees cockroaches, and eliminates them just as carelessly should they get in his way. It is theorized that, once he has no more use of the JCA, he would leave it, probability of a large amount of casualties incurring is high.
However, it is noted he has not attachment to any other faction, either Dominion or Mercenary. He serves the JCA willingly and, contrary to his codename, without Regret or Mercy. Every attempt to turn him has resulted in the mutilated and burnt husk of the person who attempted it. As of now, Regret is one of the JCA's most Deadly agents, albeit also being the most Sociopathic and Psychotic.
Codename: Regret
Faction: JCA
Specialization: Gun Smith
Perk: Companion
Tactical equipment: Grappling Hook
Agent Background:Companion said:
Michael Ialim was born on the world of Gicter-Tialum Prime, a world within the mid-rim colonies of the Allied Council. The planet was composed largely of the middle class, with Michael himself being part of the upper middle class, the son of a politician. During the first fifteen years of his life, Michael was taught to be a good upstanding citizen. To obey his parent, the law, and the rule of the Allied Council. He was a smart, young, kind boy who believed that every human was good inside. He held on to that belief until the Allied-Sorron War began.
His planet was not one of those whose suns were drained for resources, or their planets incinerated and crush to ash, but the effects were still apparent. A small force of Sorron forces arrived to that planet, cut off and isolated from the main fleet, to assault the planet. Almost immediately, the population of the world crumbled. It's population, consumed with fear, turned into animals, who believed they had nothing to lose. They invaded his house, and though he successfully hid in between the walls, he saw his father butchered and his mother raped by the crowd. Though they burnt the house down, Michael survived from the wreckage. He wandered the streets, attempting to ask help from those he once knew as friends. They, seeing his condition, spurned him out into the streets. So he learned his first lesson, in the end, everyone was an animal inside. Even though they yelled and screamed at the Alliance Dogs who left them to die, all Michael saw were dogs as their dwelling burnt to the ground. He hated them, both for their ugliness, and their hypocrisy.
Sorron forces clashed with Gicter-Tialum Planetary Defense Forces. Due to their act of defense, they delayed their planet's destruction by 2 hours. Michael found an escape ship, filled to the brim with refugees and he found himself amongst a gaggle of children. They were like him, lost and confused, but unlike him they were still soft. Still weak. Michael hated them too. They reminded him of what he was. When it came time for him to board, he found his way cut off by a eighteen year old who decided that he was the perfect plaything to boss around. Michael looked around him, and noticed that the children he had met earlier began to distance themselves from him, some even joining in with the older child's thoughts. Michael acted first, intending to release all the hatred in his heart onto the fifteen year old's pimply face. When it was over, his opponent was sniveling on the ground, begging for mercy. He looked around again, the children were avoiding the one on the ground now, and insulted him as though they were always on Michael's side. So it was that he learnt another lesson, everyone respected power.
So their craft left, and Michael could see his planet forced into a size smaller than a pinhead as Sorron forces utilized black hole generators on the planet, killing the entire planet's population. They left, and realized that those Sorron forces were likely the last of their kind. The war was over.
Michael found themselves denied into Alliance territory. Michael heard a gaggle of reasons, from reconstruction to insufficient space for all those people but he could see they were lying. His father, before he died, taught him the signs of a liar, and the man was lying through his teeth. Even then, it was obvious enough that with the large amount of Alliance forces, that they had the capacity to repel Sorron forces in the first place. Though the rest of the people on his ship yelled about them being unjust, he laughed, and some thought him insane. But he laughed not because his mind cracked, but because the thought of Liars and Murderers complaining to other Liars and Murderers was Hilarious.
So they moved to the fast organizing Dominion space. While he was taken cared off in some orphanage for kids without parents, he snorted at that, a lie to make the liars feel good about themselves, he still appreciated the assistance of the naive fools who helped him. Those who believed in patriotism, god, human decency, altruism. Whatever delusions they had was irrelevant to him, they helped him, so he was grateful for them.
He stayed there until he reached 18, where he was summarily inducted into the Dominion armed forces. No one took him in, both because he was too old and that the cynical black eyes they saw into seemed to both loathe and laugh at them. Seemingly both sickened and amused at them.
With his time in the army, his aggression was tempered by military training and discipline. He learnt a myriad of close combat techniques, how to move in the night without being detected, etc. It was noted that he could have excelled at anything he put his mind to, but he had a preference for weapons training.
He loved them, he loved them all. Pistols, Assault Rifles, Explosives, Flame Throwers! Oh god the Flame Throwers. He stayed in the Dominion Armed Forces, and believed he would have stayed there forever until he reached the age of 21.
He was one of the guards in a military encampment on a fairly armed outpost. It was such that, on one relatively peaceful night as they were all having dinner, the military camp exploded in plasma fire and experimental weaponry.
Michael was, like a good portion of the encampment, not yet battle tested. Unlike them though, he Loved it. He found that he loved the Plasma Weaponry being thrown against him almost as much as he loved flame throwers, damn those projectile weapons anyway. Fire was the way to go!
So it was that all of the Dominion forces with him died. Violently. Michael himself was saved only by the fact that an Armored vehicle saved him by being in the way of a particularly nasty looking weapon. Unlike any other sane human who would have attempted to run and hide, he went and tried to hunt down the one who did all of this, after taking any weapon he could find of course.
He eventually found him, an unexpectedly tired and old looking man. He was parked near a very impressive looking spacecraft and, naturally, Michael tried to kill him. The old bastard was particularly tough though, sensing the Magnetically Accelerated Round before it blew the better portion of his head away. Immediately after though, the old man vanished from sight. Michael guessed it was a stealth system, so he pulled out his flame thrower and burnt the surrounding area.
He managed to track the guy down and kill him after a few hours of fighting though. He was curious about the man though, and the fact that he killed his entire base. Probably ordered too as well. So he jumped onboard the ship, brining the old man's body with him and, after messing around with the autopilot, set the ship to wherever the hell the old man came from.
JCA forces found Specialist Doubt's ship, and his body, with Michael Ialim as the ship docked in JCA Special Forces Base code named Raven Rock. The previous story stated was what Michael Ialim's personal record stated when captured. It is unknown whether or not he is telling the truth.
However, it is a matter of record that, he was only supressed after encountering 3 teams of special operations operatives and eliminated 2 before that. He was given the option of working with the Special Operations Group of the JCA and accepted. Eagerly.
His only requirement is that each of his missions require either a low survival rate, or the termination of an organic being. The terms were accepted, and Observation-Combat Drone Reticent Inhibition was given to Agent Regret's care. Both to assist, and observe him.
Training proceeded, with Regret's skills being honed with to an admirable edge. As of this date, Regret is the JCA's premier marksman and has survived multiple attempts at his life. However, it is noted by JCA psychologists that Regret serves the JCA only because of his own reasons. He cares as much for the individual, or group, of JCA citizens with the same empathy he sees cockroaches, and eliminates them just as carelessly should they get in his way. It is theorized that, once he has no more use of the JCA, he would leave it, probability of a large amount of casualties incurring is high.
However, it is noted he has not attachment to any other faction, either Dominion or Mercenary. He serves the JCA willingly and, contrary to his codename, without Regret or Mercy. Every attempt to turn him has resulted in the mutilated and burnt husk of the person who attempted it. As of now, Regret is one of the JCA's most Deadly agents, albeit also being the most Sociopathic and Psychotic.
Name : Armaminion: The smell created when an apple and a lemon explode
Human Translation: Alexandria
Age : 37 human years, 74 Armaminion years
Race: Armaminion
Gender : Female, pure
Appearance: : 2 meters tall, deep purple compound eyes, rust colour exoskeleton, black antenna, exoskeleton appears lumpy in some places due to implanted nanobot storage chambers, has a robotic right leg
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Artrum II, Ion system
Weapons: AT Flechette pistol: Fires saber darts about 10 cm long. Deadly against flesh and some types of armour, less effective against thick armour and energy shields.
AT Plasma knife: A knife made out of ceramic that can withstand high temperatures. Superheated plasma is projected along the blades edge, kept in place by a magnetic field. The blade can easily slice through many materials. Powered by nano batteries embedded in the hilt.
Misc items : AT Nano Exoskin: A transparent skin made up of special carbon nanofibers. Augment Alexandria?s muscles to allow her to lift heavy objects. Provides little protection from elements or weapons. Keeps her at a steady 50°C.
AT Nano Armour: Armour made up of nanobots. Extremely resistant to weaponry and the elements. Sustained fire can break open the armour and high powered lasers and explosives can cut through the armour like butter. Nanobots are embedded with energy dispersers, allowing the armour protection from many energy weapons. The armour is stored within her own body and in tanks attached to her body.
AT Nano-Arm ESI 7: A standard nano-computer arm issued to Armaminion military engineers. Capable of field repairs to equipment as well as remote manipulation of friendly and enemy equipment. Remote manipulation is achieved through nano-bots launched from the arm into equipment, setting up a remote connection between the arm and the piece of equipment. The arm is also capable of projecting holograms.
AT Computer Implant: A brain implant that connects with special chips in Armaminion computers that allow them to be manipulated with the mind. The nano-arm is capable of launching nano-bots that connect with the implant.
Role : Engineer
Bio : Born on Artrum II in the Ion system, Alexandria enjoyed a life a moderate luxury as being one of the few pure Armaminions left. Almost all of her family and ancestry had worked in the military and she could trace her genetic line back all the way into the Iron Legion. From the day she was born she was trained to enter the military. When she turned 20(10 human years) she entered into the Armaminion military academy and began formal military training. She choose to become a field engineer. After she graduated she served for a while in the Armaminion military. She served in a few minor skirmishes during the final glory days of the Armaminion military until an accident with a flechette grenade crippled her right leg and she had to have it amputated. She spent a year in recovery, where she and the robotic specialists designed a replacement robotic leg that suited her. She spent another year learning to manage the leg. During her time away the Armaminion military slowly became less and less important as peace in the Armaminion State became a reality. The military sometimes became involved in very minor issues on the borders of the state but these attempts to keep the military active proved futile.
She returned to the military for a few more years. She eventually grew bored, as the Armaminion State military had become used only as a symbol and for ceremonious purposes. She put herself on indefinite leave, purchased a ship and left Armaminion space. She hired herself out as an engineer for mercenary teams and wandered around space for a long time. She eventually made her way into the Pillar of Hope quadrant.
Human Translation: Alexandria
Age : 37 human years, 74 Armaminion years
Race: Armaminion
Gender : Female, pure
Appearance: : 2 meters tall, deep purple compound eyes, rust colour exoskeleton, black antenna, exoskeleton appears lumpy in some places due to implanted nanobot storage chambers, has a robotic right leg
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Artrum II, Ion system
Weapons: AT Flechette pistol: Fires saber darts about 10 cm long. Deadly against flesh and some types of armour, less effective against thick armour and energy shields.
AT Plasma knife: A knife made out of ceramic that can withstand high temperatures. Superheated plasma is projected along the blades edge, kept in place by a magnetic field. The blade can easily slice through many materials. Powered by nano batteries embedded in the hilt.
Misc items : AT Nano Exoskin: A transparent skin made up of special carbon nanofibers. Augment Alexandria?s muscles to allow her to lift heavy objects. Provides little protection from elements or weapons. Keeps her at a steady 50°C.
AT Nano Armour: Armour made up of nanobots. Extremely resistant to weaponry and the elements. Sustained fire can break open the armour and high powered lasers and explosives can cut through the armour like butter. Nanobots are embedded with energy dispersers, allowing the armour protection from many energy weapons. The armour is stored within her own body and in tanks attached to her body.
AT Nano-Arm ESI 7: A standard nano-computer arm issued to Armaminion military engineers. Capable of field repairs to equipment as well as remote manipulation of friendly and enemy equipment. Remote manipulation is achieved through nano-bots launched from the arm into equipment, setting up a remote connection between the arm and the piece of equipment. The arm is also capable of projecting holograms.
AT Computer Implant: A brain implant that connects with special chips in Armaminion computers that allow them to be manipulated with the mind. The nano-arm is capable of launching nano-bots that connect with the implant.
Role : Engineer
Bio : Born on Artrum II in the Ion system, Alexandria enjoyed a life a moderate luxury as being one of the few pure Armaminions left. Almost all of her family and ancestry had worked in the military and she could trace her genetic line back all the way into the Iron Legion. From the day she was born she was trained to enter the military. When she turned 20(10 human years) she entered into the Armaminion military academy and began formal military training. She choose to become a field engineer. After she graduated she served for a while in the Armaminion military. She served in a few minor skirmishes during the final glory days of the Armaminion military until an accident with a flechette grenade crippled her right leg and she had to have it amputated. She spent a year in recovery, where she and the robotic specialists designed a replacement robotic leg that suited her. She spent another year learning to manage the leg. During her time away the Armaminion military slowly became less and less important as peace in the Armaminion State became a reality. The military sometimes became involved in very minor issues on the borders of the state but these attempts to keep the military active proved futile.
She returned to the military for a few more years. She eventually grew bored, as the Armaminion State military had become used only as a symbol and for ceremonious purposes. She put herself on indefinite leave, purchased a ship and left Armaminion space. She hired herself out as an engineer for mercenary teams and wandered around space for a long time. She eventually made her way into the Pillar of Hope quadrant.
Name: Thev Perov
Age: 26
Race: Terran
Gender: Male
Appearance: What meets the eye, should you happen to direct yours directly at Mr. Perov, is nothing special. A tall and lanky young man, though by no means athletic, with a fair complexion and slightly juvenile face, with only limited facial hair growth. His dark blond hair tied in a short pony tail.
The skin on his hands are discolored by the innumerable different and often dangerous substances and plasma burns that he has dealt with throughout his career.
Faction: Dominion
Homeplanet: Kvanti, Argor Sector
Weapons: He has one weapon, developed by himself during the long travel times between destinations with the Kurast Dominion fleet, a heavily modified Dajun Plasma Cutter with clever upgrades for rate of fire and range, as well as a much more efficient power source. However, while p theoretically unleashing a sea of ouch and flames at close range, it still lacks a bit in range.
Misc items: His welding equipment, with accompanying protective gear (although he is not very strict in using it), and a multitool that also can integrate with electronic systems. Also, whenever he is on a ship, he prefers to have (or know the location of) a complete manufacturer?s manual over engines and life support maintenance.
Role: Chief of Engineering
Bio: It takes something special for a kid to flourish, growing up in a family of poverty on edge of a radioactive zone on the poor backwater world of Kvanti, a system that seemed to be forgotten even by the dominion (at least if you ask the man on the street). If you?re lucky enough to be born without horrible mutations, you?re off to a good start, but chances are you?ll end up in crime (or simply be dead) before you even come of age, as gang wars and robbery-murders are everyday events. Thev lived in an area controlled by a large -primarily alien- gang that controlled a large part of the city. Racism was very present on all sides, and a sort of apartheid was even established for humans and other less unfortunate races.
Fortunately, Thev managed to avoid these things (and no notable mutations either!), mostly due to his loving mother (he never knew his father, only child) setting him straight whenever he strayed from the true path, that and a significant amount of luck. Thev early on found out about his natural knack for mechanics, and theoretical science, and started earning an income as a mechanic for smaller vehicles when he was 12, acquiring a job in a smaller shop after the owner realized his talent.
The years passed, and he became of age. His mother fell ill, and required treatment, treatment his job as a mechanic could never pay for. He enlisted to the Dominion space corps, the pay was meager on an interplanetary level, but it lasted significantly longer on Kvanti than in most places.
Shortly thereafter his mother died, but he had already signed the contract. He scored very well on the initial practical knowledge test, and was pulled out from the lines of the other grunts as engineer material. He was moved to the Dominion Space Corps. Academy on Vallarrim II. The new world amazed the poor backwater planet boy to no end. Everything was shiny, starvation was low, and he read and learned about the history of the alliances, and repaired and maintained ships he could only have dreamt about as a child. After much struggle he graduated, the only field where he really excelled at was practical mechanics- he saw solutions and systems where others saw obstacles. He earned a reputation for being a natural and performing well under stress.
He was quickly assigned to a small front line scout ship, and he saw his first combat within a week. The chief of engineering got burned as a reactor heating vent overloaded when the ship was ambushed by JCA fighters in a border system clash. Thev managed to stabilize the system and allowing the pilot to fly them out of there. After the event Dominion Command realized his true potential and transferred him to a Nova-Class destroyer, where he acted as Junior Engineer chief in the Engines section of maintenance. This is where he is currently operating.
He is known to his superiors as a very talented and stable mechanic, although he has been known to be very stubborn and completely ignore orders he see as unnecessary or stupid, always inventing his own solutions. Subordinates of alien race has also said (off the record- no official reports) that he tends to treat them slightly odd. He takes out his monthly ration of calming meds, and it is rumored he buys the rations of other mechanics as well. An investigation has not been launched as he is deemed too much of an asset, and has showed no signs of instability.
Age: 26
Race: Terran
Gender: Male
Appearance: What meets the eye, should you happen to direct yours directly at Mr. Perov, is nothing special. A tall and lanky young man, though by no means athletic, with a fair complexion and slightly juvenile face, with only limited facial hair growth. His dark blond hair tied in a short pony tail.
The skin on his hands are discolored by the innumerable different and often dangerous substances and plasma burns that he has dealt with throughout his career.
Faction: Dominion
Homeplanet: Kvanti, Argor Sector
Weapons: He has one weapon, developed by himself during the long travel times between destinations with the Kurast Dominion fleet, a heavily modified Dajun Plasma Cutter with clever upgrades for rate of fire and range, as well as a much more efficient power source. However, while p theoretically unleashing a sea of ouch and flames at close range, it still lacks a bit in range.
Misc items: His welding equipment, with accompanying protective gear (although he is not very strict in using it), and a multitool that also can integrate with electronic systems. Also, whenever he is on a ship, he prefers to have (or know the location of) a complete manufacturer?s manual over engines and life support maintenance.
Role: Chief of Engineering
Bio: It takes something special for a kid to flourish, growing up in a family of poverty on edge of a radioactive zone on the poor backwater world of Kvanti, a system that seemed to be forgotten even by the dominion (at least if you ask the man on the street). If you?re lucky enough to be born without horrible mutations, you?re off to a good start, but chances are you?ll end up in crime (or simply be dead) before you even come of age, as gang wars and robbery-murders are everyday events. Thev lived in an area controlled by a large -primarily alien- gang that controlled a large part of the city. Racism was very present on all sides, and a sort of apartheid was even established for humans and other less unfortunate races.
Fortunately, Thev managed to avoid these things (and no notable mutations either!), mostly due to his loving mother (he never knew his father, only child) setting him straight whenever he strayed from the true path, that and a significant amount of luck. Thev early on found out about his natural knack for mechanics, and theoretical science, and started earning an income as a mechanic for smaller vehicles when he was 12, acquiring a job in a smaller shop after the owner realized his talent.
The years passed, and he became of age. His mother fell ill, and required treatment, treatment his job as a mechanic could never pay for. He enlisted to the Dominion space corps, the pay was meager on an interplanetary level, but it lasted significantly longer on Kvanti than in most places.
Shortly thereafter his mother died, but he had already signed the contract. He scored very well on the initial practical knowledge test, and was pulled out from the lines of the other grunts as engineer material. He was moved to the Dominion Space Corps. Academy on Vallarrim II. The new world amazed the poor backwater planet boy to no end. Everything was shiny, starvation was low, and he read and learned about the history of the alliances, and repaired and maintained ships he could only have dreamt about as a child. After much struggle he graduated, the only field where he really excelled at was practical mechanics- he saw solutions and systems where others saw obstacles. He earned a reputation for being a natural and performing well under stress.
He was quickly assigned to a small front line scout ship, and he saw his first combat within a week. The chief of engineering got burned as a reactor heating vent overloaded when the ship was ambushed by JCA fighters in a border system clash. Thev managed to stabilize the system and allowing the pilot to fly them out of there. After the event Dominion Command realized his true potential and transferred him to a Nova-Class destroyer, where he acted as Junior Engineer chief in the Engines section of maintenance. This is where he is currently operating.
He is known to his superiors as a very talented and stable mechanic, although he has been known to be very stubborn and completely ignore orders he see as unnecessary or stupid, always inventing his own solutions. Subordinates of alien race has also said (off the record- no official reports) that he tends to treat them slightly odd. He takes out his monthly ration of calming meds, and it is rumored he buys the rations of other mechanics as well. An investigation has not been launched as he is deemed too much of an asset, and has showed no signs of instability.
Name : Arthur Mcreary.
Age : 29.
Race: Human.
Gender : Male.
Appearance: Arthur is a man of Caucasian descent who stands tall at six feet with an athletic build, and weighs in at a total of 170 pounds (77 Kilograms). He has hazel green eyes that settle in contrast to his often slicked black hair of medium length, and unkempt stubble that covers the disillusioned face of a cynical charmer.
Faction : JCA
Homeplanet: Quintus Prime, an M-class planet located within the Pegasus System, a planet mostly inhabited by Humans, where respect within it?s cities is measured in wealth, pride, and knowledge. While it?s more peaceful features include rainy highlands, and green plains.
Weapons:
1: The X-14 "Shadow" Carbine, medium range to long range. Arthur's customized weapon comes with an advanced holographic sight and retractable stock. It has two fire rates semi automatic and a shotgun like burst shot that drains it's energy cell. (Caution increases risk of weapon failure, and on some occasions has caused the weapon to explode, ouch.)
2: SAL "Centurion" revolver:, Arthur opted to grab the energy cell variant of this weapon
Misc items: His wife's wedding band that he wears on a small silver chain.
Role : Field Agent
Bio : Arthur was born into wealth in Dias the cultural heart of Quintus Prime, spending much of his easygoing youth enjoying the benefits of his upbringing.
However as he matured his families wealth dissipated, finally coming to a head with the loss of the families crucial properties with the rise of the Kurast Dominion, and Arthur's subsequent estrangement.
His enlistment into the JCA came after years of dealing with a change of social standings, along with the development of a resilient, sarcastic, and at times cynical character, the latter two put in slight check whenever he was around his future Wife Sylvie.
Arthur while often at odd ends with his handlers proved to be rather skilled in stealth and recon, his handlers often finding him to be a respectable asset.
But tragedy struck as Arthur returned home to Sylvie for their third anniversary only to find her mutilated in their apartment, a crushing and shattering blow to Arthur as the perpetrator left no trace or evidence.
Though Arthur hid his mental scars deep behind his work, the ill health of insomnia fed by night terrors caused him to be put on suspension,
Seeing little hope of conventional recovery his psychiatrist suggested he enroll for an experimental surgery involving nano bots inserted into the cerebral cortex via the bloodstream.
It was effective for a time, but the dreams of what he lost disappeared only to haunt his reality in times of stress, at first it was manageable, and easy to hide but in the last year it has become volatile.
Even coming close to ending Arthur?s life, however just recently he has found a way to medicate the condition temporarily, and now he seeks a mission of some distant redemption.
Age : 29.
Race: Human.
Gender : Male.
Appearance: Arthur is a man of Caucasian descent who stands tall at six feet with an athletic build, and weighs in at a total of 170 pounds (77 Kilograms). He has hazel green eyes that settle in contrast to his often slicked black hair of medium length, and unkempt stubble that covers the disillusioned face of a cynical charmer.
Faction : JCA
Homeplanet: Quintus Prime, an M-class planet located within the Pegasus System, a planet mostly inhabited by Humans, where respect within it?s cities is measured in wealth, pride, and knowledge. While it?s more peaceful features include rainy highlands, and green plains.
Weapons:
1: The X-14 "Shadow" Carbine, medium range to long range. Arthur's customized weapon comes with an advanced holographic sight and retractable stock. It has two fire rates semi automatic and a shotgun like burst shot that drains it's energy cell. (Caution increases risk of weapon failure, and on some occasions has caused the weapon to explode, ouch.)
2: SAL "Centurion" revolver:, Arthur opted to grab the energy cell variant of this weapon
Misc items: His wife's wedding band that he wears on a small silver chain.
Role : Field Agent
Bio : Arthur was born into wealth in Dias the cultural heart of Quintus Prime, spending much of his easygoing youth enjoying the benefits of his upbringing.
However as he matured his families wealth dissipated, finally coming to a head with the loss of the families crucial properties with the rise of the Kurast Dominion, and Arthur's subsequent estrangement.
His enlistment into the JCA came after years of dealing with a change of social standings, along with the development of a resilient, sarcastic, and at times cynical character, the latter two put in slight check whenever he was around his future Wife Sylvie.
Arthur while often at odd ends with his handlers proved to be rather skilled in stealth and recon, his handlers often finding him to be a respectable asset.
But tragedy struck as Arthur returned home to Sylvie for their third anniversary only to find her mutilated in their apartment, a crushing and shattering blow to Arthur as the perpetrator left no trace or evidence.
Though Arthur hid his mental scars deep behind his work, the ill health of insomnia fed by night terrors caused him to be put on suspension,
Seeing little hope of conventional recovery his psychiatrist suggested he enroll for an experimental surgery involving nano bots inserted into the cerebral cortex via the bloodstream.
It was effective for a time, but the dreams of what he lost disappeared only to haunt his reality in times of stress, at first it was manageable, and easy to hide but in the last year it has become volatile.
Even coming close to ending Arthur?s life, however just recently he has found a way to medicate the condition temporarily, and now he seeks a mission of some distant redemption.
Name : Tayna Carill
Age : 26
Race : very human
Gender : female
Appearance : Tayna edges fairly close to the definition of plain. She's a bit on the short side with not even 160cm in height and has occasionally been accused of having the figure of a stick. That's probably because she's missing the signature curves of the female gender, and hides whatever she does have in her selection of comfortable, baggy clothing. Her skin has a pale, but smooth complexion, which offers a stark contrasts to the black hair and the dull, fawn coloured eyes. She keeps said hair short and usually works it off with a scissor of her own, which gives her cuts a very erratic look. She never bothered to practice.
When first seen, folks tend to mistake her for a young boy instead of a woman.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet : The Drill orbiting Vulain. Vulain is a resource rich moon orbiting a large gas giant. The moon itself is too small to support human life, but that did not stop the harvesting. Quite the contrary. Vulain has attracted a lot of attention since its discovery, and the result is a bustling space station lovingly nicknamed "the Drill". Mostly because drilling for the moons resources was what it's inhabitants did first, but also because of its architecture that makes it resemble and actual drill.
Weapons: She does not own a weapon, though she has undergone training in physical combat, including self defence and useful grips to subdue unruly patients.
Misc items : She is usually seen wearing a pair of soft, tip-less black gloves. When not appropriate she tends to stuff them into her belt; and occasionally forgets about them, which ends up with her having to buy a new pair when she loses them. Again.
Role : Medic
Bio : She was born on the Drill, back when the only occupations of it were miners, their families and the station's crew. Her father served as a mechanic (a section overseer, actually) and her mother worked at the medical bay as a doctor. Both were full-time jobs, and so the girl learned to look after herself at an early age. And by the time she finished her mandatory school subjects, Tayna was already fully integrated into the Drill's society. At first she bounded back and forth between the two jobs her parents held, but she eventually distanced herself from the machinery and decided to follow her mother's footsteps instead.
The Drill kept expanding, the girl kept growing up, and one day she found love. Love for adventure, love for exploration. All the tales she would pick up from traders and smugglers (along with the occasional maniac tourist) had her craving for seeing more than just the Drill; even if the vista of Vulain and the gas giant it orbits is, admittedly, stunning.
So what's a girl to do that wants to be out there and see the world, excuse, the galaxy? She did the only thing she knew how; hiring herself out as a medic to the first mercenary ship that would take her. It took a little bit more than persuasion, and the previous medical officer they had on-board would never again look at bars (or latrines) the same way again, but at least she managed to get off the Drill.
A year and a half later the ship she hired onto lost its Captain, and she is currently stranded on an orbital port sitting above Yeek Rae Po (a planet of little significance except to those who call it home) along with the rest of the crew.
And once more, Tayna is looking for a job. Sooner, rather than later, as the company she keeps right now seems to have a few unfriendly tendencies. Might have something to do with how they lost their Captain. Might.
Age : 26
Race : very human
Gender : female
Appearance : Tayna edges fairly close to the definition of plain. She's a bit on the short side with not even 160cm in height and has occasionally been accused of having the figure of a stick. That's probably because she's missing the signature curves of the female gender, and hides whatever she does have in her selection of comfortable, baggy clothing. Her skin has a pale, but smooth complexion, which offers a stark contrasts to the black hair and the dull, fawn coloured eyes. She keeps said hair short and usually works it off with a scissor of her own, which gives her cuts a very erratic look. She never bothered to practice.
When first seen, folks tend to mistake her for a young boy instead of a woman.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet : The Drill orbiting Vulain. Vulain is a resource rich moon orbiting a large gas giant. The moon itself is too small to support human life, but that did not stop the harvesting. Quite the contrary. Vulain has attracted a lot of attention since its discovery, and the result is a bustling space station lovingly nicknamed "the Drill". Mostly because drilling for the moons resources was what it's inhabitants did first, but also because of its architecture that makes it resemble and actual drill.
Weapons: She does not own a weapon, though she has undergone training in physical combat, including self defence and useful grips to subdue unruly patients.
Misc items : She is usually seen wearing a pair of soft, tip-less black gloves. When not appropriate she tends to stuff them into her belt; and occasionally forgets about them, which ends up with her having to buy a new pair when she loses them. Again.
Role : Medic
Bio : She was born on the Drill, back when the only occupations of it were miners, their families and the station's crew. Her father served as a mechanic (a section overseer, actually) and her mother worked at the medical bay as a doctor. Both were full-time jobs, and so the girl learned to look after herself at an early age. And by the time she finished her mandatory school subjects, Tayna was already fully integrated into the Drill's society. At first she bounded back and forth between the two jobs her parents held, but she eventually distanced herself from the machinery and decided to follow her mother's footsteps instead.
The Drill kept expanding, the girl kept growing up, and one day she found love. Love for adventure, love for exploration. All the tales she would pick up from traders and smugglers (along with the occasional maniac tourist) had her craving for seeing more than just the Drill; even if the vista of Vulain and the gas giant it orbits is, admittedly, stunning.
So what's a girl to do that wants to be out there and see the world, excuse, the galaxy? She did the only thing she knew how; hiring herself out as a medic to the first mercenary ship that would take her. It took a little bit more than persuasion, and the previous medical officer they had on-board would never again look at bars (or latrines) the same way again, but at least she managed to get off the Drill.
A year and a half later the ship she hired onto lost its Captain, and she is currently stranded on an orbital port sitting above Yeek Rae Po (a planet of little significance except to those who call it home) along with the rest of the crew.
And once more, Tayna is looking for a job. Sooner, rather than later, as the company she keeps right now seems to have a few unfriendly tendencies. Might have something to do with how they lost their Captain. Might.
Name: Dirge Renoktan
Age: 35 (Lakartans live almost as long as humans, about 80 years)
Race: Lakartan
Gender: Male
Appearance: He is considered well-looking by his specie's standards, as he is slightly taller then average (about 6 foot), and his scales, which are all jet-black (sans a small white patch on his back, which is a mark of good fortune in Lakartan soceity), are polished to a shine, something he does daily after a bathing. He commonly wears two types of clothing, his "civvie" outfit and his combat suit. His civvie clothes include a loose bright orange shirt, and long red pants, with no shoes. His combat suit is a usually camouflaged to the environment, and consist of a dark colored (Hopefully) shirt with the sleeves rolled up, cargo pants with a hole cut out for his tail, and a tool belt where he stores his guns and cloaking device.
Faction: Kurast Dominion
Homeplanet: Tionterram
Weapons: His GTC-4 .25 automatic Pistol (silenced) and his own claws.
Misc items: A pocket sized religious book, and an amulet he wears at all time that has a blood-red diamond hanging from a dull gold chain.
Role: Scout
Bio: He was born into a lesser house of royalty on his planet, and because of the spot on his back, his parents believed he would bring their house onto the throne of the planet. Because of his high expectations (of which he was never told why), he began to resent his parents, and secretly he hoped to leave his planet for good. So when his planet not only made first contact with the launch of their first space telescope, but also their quick induction into the Kurast Dominion, Dirge saw a way to not only leave his planet, but see the rest of what the galaxy had to offer. He was one of the first in his race to sign up for the Dominion's armed forces, and he quickly proved both his skills at CQC and his own racial abilities made him a great solider, and so he was given a test-spot as an investigator to find out what happened to the Aiora
Age: 35 (Lakartans live almost as long as humans, about 80 years)
Race: Lakartan
Gender: Male
Appearance: He is considered well-looking by his specie's standards, as he is slightly taller then average (about 6 foot), and his scales, which are all jet-black (sans a small white patch on his back, which is a mark of good fortune in Lakartan soceity), are polished to a shine, something he does daily after a bathing. He commonly wears two types of clothing, his "civvie" outfit and his combat suit. His civvie clothes include a loose bright orange shirt, and long red pants, with no shoes. His combat suit is a usually camouflaged to the environment, and consist of a dark colored (Hopefully) shirt with the sleeves rolled up, cargo pants with a hole cut out for his tail, and a tool belt where he stores his guns and cloaking device.
Faction: Kurast Dominion
Homeplanet: Tionterram
Weapons: His GTC-4 .25 automatic Pistol (silenced) and his own claws.
Misc items: A pocket sized religious book, and an amulet he wears at all time that has a blood-red diamond hanging from a dull gold chain.
Role: Scout
Bio: He was born into a lesser house of royalty on his planet, and because of the spot on his back, his parents believed he would bring their house onto the throne of the planet. Because of his high expectations (of which he was never told why), he began to resent his parents, and secretly he hoped to leave his planet for good. So when his planet not only made first contact with the launch of their first space telescope, but also their quick induction into the Kurast Dominion, Dirge saw a way to not only leave his planet, but see the rest of what the galaxy had to offer. He was one of the first in his race to sign up for the Dominion's armed forces, and he quickly proved both his skills at CQC and his own racial abilities made him a great solider, and so he was given a test-spot as an investigator to find out what happened to the Aiora
Name : David Wallace
Age : 28
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Faction : JCA
Homeplanet: Shipborn aboard the Aesirth son of a diplomat
Role : Diplomat
And he's about 6 ft give or take-hey a picture is worth more than thousand words. This picture would have been taken when he was serving against the Sorrons.
Age : 28
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Faction : JCA
Homeplanet: Shipborn aboard the Aesirth son of a diplomat
Role : Diplomat
And he's about 6 ft give or take-hey a picture is worth more than thousand words. This picture would have been taken when he was serving against the Sorrons.
Weapons: Si'aan plasma blaster: Similar caliber to the Taurus pistol but fires the more powerful plasma bolt. Has a significant longer cooldown between shots but has a significantly higher firepower for a handgun.
-few weapons, hope thats okay I didn't think a diplomat would have any bar a pistol.
Reactive body vest(similar to the armor, but less protection and designed to be worn under clothes)
Misc items : A Zippo like lighter with the eight of clubs engraved on the back.(His fathers)
-few weapons, hope thats okay I didn't think a diplomat would have any bar a pistol.
Reactive body vest(similar to the armor, but less protection and designed to be worn under clothes)
Misc items : A Zippo like lighter with the eight of clubs engraved on the back.(His fathers)
"This is diplomat David Wallaces journal, if you're listening to this either I'm gone or you are in breach of section five of JCA laws and statutes surrounding diplomats. This log, to the best of my knowledge contains no sensitive information, I acknowledge that any sensitive information that is divulged will likely result in my incarceration or execution under the darkwater protocol, this recording is only to be used in the event that my death or other restraining circumstance has left the missions details unrecoverable and that the person viewing this has third level diplomatic clearance.
I am currently aboard *sighs* a ship; this ship will be rendezvousing with the Kurast dominion in an attempt to.... well we will be meeting with several high ranking figures among the kurasts in an attempt to free up trade routes between, between planets in a contested system." David pauses the recording, why do they make us write these things, they contain no valuable information and eat up my time David thought while pushing the recording aside rumours of ships missing, tensions rising between the JCA and kryllians, and to top it all off a damaged warship has been taken by mercs. Meanwhile I make meaningless logs of trading disputes.
David rises from his chair and looks out the window, the Aesirth MKII wasn't the vessel intended for this mission, however several malfunctions on the Ralbourne had allowed him to request this ship instead. It had fewer windows than the mark one, but the spacious rooms and compartments were close to the originals. To think twelve years ago I was a marine fighting Sorrons at close quarters aboard warships, heck the battle of Anthem was probably the closest I'd ever come to bieng another statisic he felt at the scar on his cheek. Still fighting I guess, apart from now I use words instead of a gun. He glances at his pistol I wonder if I can still shoot straight.
David was on a diplomatic vessel the Aesirth MKI, he never really knew much about his father other than that he lived on a ship graveyard called Terran, he was then transferred to through several alliance academies. He was trained as an officer among a marine task force serving on the Nebula, at the end of the war he took up more studies and trained as a diplomat. The Aesirth MKI was shot down toward the end of the war with his mother on board.
I am currently aboard *sighs* a ship; this ship will be rendezvousing with the Kurast dominion in an attempt to.... well we will be meeting with several high ranking figures among the kurasts in an attempt to free up trade routes between, between planets in a contested system." David pauses the recording, why do they make us write these things, they contain no valuable information and eat up my time David thought while pushing the recording aside rumours of ships missing, tensions rising between the JCA and kryllians, and to top it all off a damaged warship has been taken by mercs. Meanwhile I make meaningless logs of trading disputes.
David rises from his chair and looks out the window, the Aesirth MKII wasn't the vessel intended for this mission, however several malfunctions on the Ralbourne had allowed him to request this ship instead. It had fewer windows than the mark one, but the spacious rooms and compartments were close to the originals. To think twelve years ago I was a marine fighting Sorrons at close quarters aboard warships, heck the battle of Anthem was probably the closest I'd ever come to bieng another statisic he felt at the scar on his cheek. Still fighting I guess, apart from now I use words instead of a gun. He glances at his pistol I wonder if I can still shoot straight.
David was on a diplomatic vessel the Aesirth MKI, he never really knew much about his father other than that he lived on a ship graveyard called Terran, he was then transferred to through several alliance academies. He was trained as an officer among a marine task force serving on the Nebula, at the end of the war he took up more studies and trained as a diplomat. The Aesirth MKI was shot down toward the end of the war with his mother on board.
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There are a few more sheets left still in the evaluating pile and some are still been tweaked. So expect more sheets soon
[HEADING=1]NPC Character Sheets[/HEADING]
Name: William Swift
Age : 37
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Appearance: Tall, slender and deceptively well built, Will Swift can easily blend into crowds. He has no distinguishable features save for the slight stubble forming on his face and combined with his generic brown eyes and dark hair he finds himself at home wherever there is a dense human population. Will is also known to wear his long dark black trenchcoat more for dramatic effect that convenience as he is a fan of theatrics.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Sailon V, Pegasus System
Weapons: TTR-6X Cobalt Shotgun, SAL revolver and concussion grenades
Misc items: A deck of cards and a rare box of Jaraang cigars
Role : Captain of the Odyssey
Bio : Born Eligro Tassildrim to a military family, William had the skills for leadership instilled into him at a very early age. Picked by the Colonial forces for his tactical prowess in simulated combat he was sent to military school to be trained as a future marine, much to his parent's delight. Life on the move though was tough for William as he spent many years training on space platforms and alien worlds; this was a future he did not wish for himself. He hated combat and conflict and wanted to escape from his fate.
He knew he was contractually obliged to serve the military for the next 25 years and the only way he could get out any earlier was to go rouge. The only way this could be achieved was when he was tasked with his first and subsequently final live-fire training missions.
The escape from military school itself wasn't as impressive as the tactic of evading countless checkpoints by hiding inside a sewage treatment ship that was preparing to depart off-world. By the time he reached his final destination well inside Dominion Space he had already been branded as a traitor and deserter back home.
For the next five years he evaded both Dominion and JCA law, changed his name to William Swift and joined an illusive band of mercenaries who survived by scavenging the Deep for wreckage and derelict items. It was on one such scavenging mission where he came about his future ship the Odyssey , rusting away in a JCA scrapyard and together with his fellow mercs managed to commandeer the ship and make a clean getaway.
Years later he had formed his own crew and moved into the fully restored Odyssey where he began his own transport and salvaging operations in the Deep.
Age : 37
Race: Human
Gender : Male
Appearance: Tall, slender and deceptively well built, Will Swift can easily blend into crowds. He has no distinguishable features save for the slight stubble forming on his face and combined with his generic brown eyes and dark hair he finds himself at home wherever there is a dense human population. Will is also known to wear his long dark black trenchcoat more for dramatic effect that convenience as he is a fan of theatrics.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Sailon V, Pegasus System
Weapons: TTR-6X Cobalt Shotgun, SAL revolver and concussion grenades
Misc items: A deck of cards and a rare box of Jaraang cigars
Role : Captain of the Odyssey
Bio : Born Eligro Tassildrim to a military family, William had the skills for leadership instilled into him at a very early age. Picked by the Colonial forces for his tactical prowess in simulated combat he was sent to military school to be trained as a future marine, much to his parent's delight. Life on the move though was tough for William as he spent many years training on space platforms and alien worlds; this was a future he did not wish for himself. He hated combat and conflict and wanted to escape from his fate.
He knew he was contractually obliged to serve the military for the next 25 years and the only way he could get out any earlier was to go rouge. The only way this could be achieved was when he was tasked with his first and subsequently final live-fire training missions.
The escape from military school itself wasn't as impressive as the tactic of evading countless checkpoints by hiding inside a sewage treatment ship that was preparing to depart off-world. By the time he reached his final destination well inside Dominion Space he had already been branded as a traitor and deserter back home.
For the next five years he evaded both Dominion and JCA law, changed his name to William Swift and joined an illusive band of mercenaries who survived by scavenging the Deep for wreckage and derelict items. It was on one such scavenging mission where he came about his future ship the Odyssey , rusting away in a JCA scrapyard and together with his fellow mercs managed to commandeer the ship and make a clean getaway.
Years later he had formed his own crew and moved into the fully restored Odyssey where he began his own transport and salvaging operations in the Deep.
Name: Chey'ana "Antje" Chalimaera
Age : 140
Race: Saiyyari
Gender : Female
Appearance: The Saiyyari race is identical to humans in most ways with the exception that they are more agile, posses a longer life-span and have heightened reflex and senses. Physically they also differ from humans in height (being taller overall) and possessing slit-like irises allowing for greater vision at night.
Chey'ana, much like most Saiyyari is tall at about 6'7" and posses the telltale deep green eyes of her race. She keeps her dark brown hair short up to her shoulders and is often seen wearing the deep blue uniform of the Navy despite never holding a military career. On her hips are her two revolvers which she never parts with.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Talannaroc, Plyron sector
Weapons: Twin Gorgon revolvers and poison tipped throwing knives.
The Gorgon revolver is much like the Centurion with the exception that it fires a smaller caliber magnum round allowing for a much faster rate of fire. The barrel additionally hold three more bullets than any other revolver
Misc items: A carved talisman symbolising her birth star and home planet and a few novels which she purchases from bookstores.
Role : Second-in-command, Odyssey
Bio : Chey'ana learned how to adapt to humans quite quickly. Despite looking similar overall, the human culture, language and emotions confused and irritated her as it was well removed from the humble, non-materialistic lives of the Sayyari. Still, leading a nomadic life meant that Chey'ana had to deal with her human neighbors because no matter where she went a human civilization had cropped up. Unsurprisingly, this very nature of human adaptability and resilience would eventually rub off on Chey'ana to allow her to finally see the worth of these creatures, even to the point where she adopted a human name "Antje" for convenience.
As the only daughter to a mercenary family aboard a generation ship, Chey'ana only knew the mercenary creed. She was trained at an early age with an array of skills befitting a mercenary ranger and this was quickly spotted by a Captail Will Swift who had flown alongside her on a number of missions to the Deep. After a particularly risky mission she decided to abandon her clan in favor of joining Captain Will's crew claiming she admired the risks and sense of danger aboard the Odyssey.
Age : 140
Race: Saiyyari
Gender : Female
Appearance: The Saiyyari race is identical to humans in most ways with the exception that they are more agile, posses a longer life-span and have heightened reflex and senses. Physically they also differ from humans in height (being taller overall) and possessing slit-like irises allowing for greater vision at night.
Chey'ana, much like most Saiyyari is tall at about 6'7" and posses the telltale deep green eyes of her race. She keeps her dark brown hair short up to her shoulders and is often seen wearing the deep blue uniform of the Navy despite never holding a military career. On her hips are her two revolvers which she never parts with.
Faction : Mercenary
Homeplanet: Talannaroc, Plyron sector
Weapons: Twin Gorgon revolvers and poison tipped throwing knives.
The Gorgon revolver is much like the Centurion with the exception that it fires a smaller caliber magnum round allowing for a much faster rate of fire. The barrel additionally hold three more bullets than any other revolver
Misc items: A carved talisman symbolising her birth star and home planet and a few novels which she purchases from bookstores.
Role : Second-in-command, Odyssey
Bio : Chey'ana learned how to adapt to humans quite quickly. Despite looking similar overall, the human culture, language and emotions confused and irritated her as it was well removed from the humble, non-materialistic lives of the Sayyari. Still, leading a nomadic life meant that Chey'ana had to deal with her human neighbors because no matter where she went a human civilization had cropped up. Unsurprisingly, this very nature of human adaptability and resilience would eventually rub off on Chey'ana to allow her to finally see the worth of these creatures, even to the point where she adopted a human name "Antje" for convenience.
As the only daughter to a mercenary family aboard a generation ship, Chey'ana only knew the mercenary creed. She was trained at an early age with an array of skills befitting a mercenary ranger and this was quickly spotted by a Captail Will Swift who had flown alongside her on a number of missions to the Deep. After a particularly risky mission she decided to abandon her clan in favor of joining Captain Will's crew claiming she admired the risks and sense of danger aboard the Odyssey.
Name: "Lor"
Model : Lithannium Industries "0-Romeo-2" version 3.2.1
Classification: Service Robot
Appearance: Lor is at specification height of 3.5 feet, the cylindrical body is built using diffused Technitium metal which has now rusted slightly giving him a brown/burnt orange hue overall. At the center of the body, which doubles as a hollow cavity for storing materials, sits the 6" VDU (Visual Display Unit) panel which can depict various requested information as well as indicate Lor's current mood via an animated face. Atop the body lies two-stereoscopic cameras that serve as the eyes and ears for Lor and below the cylindrical body is the anti-gravity thrusters that allow Lor to however 3 feet off the ground.
Role : Supply-bot, systems analyst, chef and repair drone
specification : Constructed 25 years ago, the OR2 model is considered outdated by most robotic cooperations. However, this was the model that first showcased the 4.4 AI system at the Solinial Technology Expo demonstrating to the world the advancements in autonomous intelligence and harboring a new age of AI guided robots. Even to date while the hardware is considered a relic, the software is a much valued entity making the OR2 a vital kit for off-world exploration and non-organic based activities.
The OR2 model is also favored among those in backwater planets and people who spend a great deal of time off world due to the lack of maintenance required for each unit. The high maneuverability aspect of these units also makes them favorable for use in confined spaces such as long range space ships
Model : Lithannium Industries "0-Romeo-2" version 3.2.1
Classification: Service Robot
Appearance: Lor is at specification height of 3.5 feet, the cylindrical body is built using diffused Technitium metal which has now rusted slightly giving him a brown/burnt orange hue overall. At the center of the body, which doubles as a hollow cavity for storing materials, sits the 6" VDU (Visual Display Unit) panel which can depict various requested information as well as indicate Lor's current mood via an animated face. Atop the body lies two-stereoscopic cameras that serve as the eyes and ears for Lor and below the cylindrical body is the anti-gravity thrusters that allow Lor to however 3 feet off the ground.
Role : Supply-bot, systems analyst, chef and repair drone
specification : Constructed 25 years ago, the OR2 model is considered outdated by most robotic cooperations. However, this was the model that first showcased the 4.4 AI system at the Solinial Technology Expo demonstrating to the world the advancements in autonomous intelligence and harboring a new age of AI guided robots. Even to date while the hardware is considered a relic, the software is a much valued entity making the OR2 a vital kit for off-world exploration and non-organic based activities.
The OR2 model is also favored among those in backwater planets and people who spend a great deal of time off world due to the lack of maintenance required for each unit. The high maneuverability aspect of these units also makes them favorable for use in confined spaces such as long range space ships