The Western Frontier: An Episodic, Schizotech Science Fiction RP. (Started, closed)

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Nukey

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Apr 24, 2009
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[HEADING=1]The Western Frontier: An Episodic, Schizotech Sci-Fi RP[/HEADING]​

Awhile back I hosted this piece that you see before you, but due to some unexpected issues I was made to put it down. A lot of time has passed since then and I'm giving it another shot, with a lot of changes to the overall plot and mechanics being put in place.

The players are newly recruited bounty hunters working for Blackhearts, a small group of hunters who tackle some of the most dangerous criminals in the lawless section of space known as the Western Frontier, which has been separated from the rest of humanity for longer than anyone can remember. The group has recently taken significant losses, thus requiring them hire replacements, which is where the players shall be stepping in.

The story, as you probably have noticed via the title, shall be played out via episodes, with each bounty acting as their own episode. While there is a story, it will remain in the background for quite some time, and the players will have plenty of room do their own thing.

As of now, I'm still editing somethings, such as spelling and information, but submitting a sheet now is perfectly fine.

Nerin stood, motionless, his arms tightly crossed as he gazed towards the bright electrical pulses that shot around the ship as it entered hyperspace. A cold, uncaring look filled his eyes as each individual spark collided against the plate glass, dissipating into nothingness upon impact. A loud crackle emitted from the rear of the vessel as the engines powered up, echoing throughout the ship's hull as it prepared to launch. It was an unusual, almost mesmerizing display, but Nerin was accustomed to it all, no longer finding it the slightest bit enticing. He listened to the crackle that echoed off the glass pane, but through the disorganized static, he heard another, even more familiar noise, his focus suddenly shifting from the void towards the pair of metallic feet stepping behind him, all too aware of who they belonged to.

"So, what's up?" Nerin asked, his eyes still gazing out towards the void. The reply he anticipated did not come immediately, which made him somewhat uneasy, only showing in the sudden stiffness of his posture.

"Nothing out of the ordinary." The man behind him finally answered. "Those rookies who phoned in for the job are waiting for us at Tanra Sta-"

"Hey, Gira, my good friend," Nerin interrupted, his voice shockingly calm despite the nature of the next words to exit his mouth, "remind me again, why in the bloody hell are we recruiting?"

"Because Nerin, on our last bounty everyone other than us and Hiener got killed in that fucking explosion! That one you blindly drove us in to!"

"That's not true, Haar's still aliv-."

"He's in the goddamn hospital, idiot, he lost both his legs and an arm! The fact the doctors are still able to patch him up with cybernetics is nothing short of a miracle!" Gira paused, placing a hand on his forehead, then continued, "Not that he's our problem anymore, he quit. He said the whole business was too risky for someone about to get married."

"Good for him. He's gonna be one of the few who leave this business not in a bloody casket." Nerin muttered, his eyes rolling at the thought. "Anyway, when are we picking up these newbies..."

There was a bright flash of light as the vessel fully entered hyperspace, launching itself forward through the glowing energy field at an alarming rate, suddenly vanishing from sight and from this very plane of existence. The duo's conversation continued within the confines of their vessel, but fell into silence mere moments later.

---------​

In farthest region of the galaxy, in the farthest future imaginable, lies the Western Frontier, a lost portion of humanity surrounded on all sides by the threats that lurk in void and those that lie hidden underneath its own skin. Once a proud symbol of human expansion and a trade, thriving on the very edges of space deemed uninhabitable, this small grouping of systems now fights a never-ending war on corruption and anarchy. Whole sectors of space are now controlled by pirates, murderers and the rest of their ilk, while the politicians openly speaking out against it are in truth powerless to oppose it.

In order to provide a defense against these threats, the government, private companies and police forces began to employ bounty hunters in order to bring these criminals to justice and protect their assets. Among all of these, Blackhearts carved out their domain in the system, founded by countless planetary governments and supported by even more. At their peak, they bolstered over a hundred hunters, but those days are long past, and their numbers have dwindled dramatically since its founding ten years ago, as only three of the original founders remain. However, the stubborn trio are unwilling to allow their business to sink so easily, and have once more opened their doors to recruitment.

The pay's lousy, the work's dangerous, and one rarely stays in the same spot for long, but hey, it's a living...

- - - -The Western Frontier, Important Notes- - - -

Conventional firearms as we know them, that being a weapon that fires a solid shell via a contained explosion, have changed little since the Age of Exploration. The standard technology they use still remains, with many of current weapons being sold nowadays using mechanisms that date back to the Solar Conquest. However, they are fairly crude due the technological setbacks of the Great Divide, and also hard to obtain. As such, revolvers, bolt action rifles and other seemingly primitive guns are the most commonly used, with any weapon capable of rapid fire mostly likely being an artifact from days long past. As of now, there are no dedicated manufactures of firearms, only small time hobbyists who produce these cheap guns and ammunition for an even cheaper buck.

On the contrary, melee weapons such as knives and other bladed tools have advanced quite a bit, far enough in fact they are used more frequently than firearms. They are often forged from the same metals used to make spacecraft, which enables them to be incredibly sharp and durable, and can be fitted with a number of devices to improve their lethality. Electric emitters are popular upgrades for batons and other melee weapons in order to non-fatally incapacitate a target, with spinning/vibrating blades being the most common means of improving the lethality of swords, daggers and other similar weapons.

Long distance space travel, classified as going from one star system to another, is conducted by means of warp gates, which launch the vessel that entered into hyperspace; a space beyond our own where FTL is not only achievable, but nothing is there to get in the way expect other ships, though two ships being in the same plane of hyperspace is almost unheard of. The ships exit at the next gate, where the momentum of the vessel is lowered to what is was before entering, along with just about everything else. The exact workings of hyperspace and the warp gates is a lost knowledge, with many professors, scientists and physicists baffled about how they got there or how they work, only that humanity built them long ago in the Age of Exploration.

Outside of hyperspace, ships abide by the laws of physics as we know them, with the common vessel moving a fraction the speed of light, so going from one planet to another can be a bit of a wait, but is relatively safe and can be achieved in a ship of any size, whether it be a large scale cruise vessel or a one man pod.

Ship engagements, usually referred to as "dog fights", are disturbingly frequent in Western Frontier, normally occurring far above the atmosphere of a planet, in an asteroid belt, or in the space between planets; areas that are impossible to monitor effectively without extensive man power. In these engagements, ships openly duke it out with all manners of weaponry, armor and devices, ranging from simplistic magnetic cannons to electrical emitters and kinetic shields. Normally, these boil down to whoever can react the quickest and who has the most tricks up their sleeve.

Surgery has been one of the few things to advance significantly since the Great Divide, along with healthcare in general. The majority of diseases known to the frontier have been wiped out, with the exception of the some of the viruses still lingering in the long abandon vessels sometimes encountered in space.

Cybernetic replacements and upgrades are a common sight on the Western Frontier; roughly 30% of the civilian populace has them, with that percentage rising to 80% with those serving as bounty hunters, law enforcement, or military personal. There is little that cannot be replaced with electronic components and, as such, having a digestive track or even one's whole body replaced is entirely possible, though the procedure is definitely risky.

Finally, there's biochemical augmentation, the process of manipulating the cells in a person's body and altering their chemical and physical build. Normally, these alterations are very minor, such as a small strength boost or heightened reaction time. However, large scale alterations are known to exist, but these are incredibly dangerous to perform and normally illegal due to the violent and grotesque side effects.

The Bounty System was first adopted sometime after 600 SY, in order to counter the crime rings that were too dispersed for the police force to handle effectively. Legally, they operate outside the law and are not connected to the police force, so they alone are responsible for anything that might happen to them while "hunting". They are expected to provide their own equipment as well, ranging from ship parts, body armor, firearms and other manners of gear.

This is usually ignored considering bounty hunters make a fair deal of money. A lot of money, to be honest. The even the smallest bounty head brings in roughly 10,000 or so credits. The more dangerous and more desired criminals can have prices up in the millions, though it is worth noting that anyone worth that much is flat out suicidal to try to track down, as they likely have a small army backing them up.

Bounty "killing" is also a common practice, though the jobs are far rarer to come across than simply hunting. They also pay better, though as mentioned above, are very, very dangerous, more so with Bounty Killers, seeing as these are criminals so dangerous that the authorities have deemed there capture impossible, so they are to be shot on sight.

The government controlling the Western Frontier is best described as a long, perplexing flowchart of checks, balances and general confusion. For everyone position, there is another that has the power to oppose it and counter any actions they might be trying to make. While this does make things very confusing, it prevents a single person from having too much power, thus preventing authoritarian rule from ever taking over the Western Frontier.

Each system has their own governing council, divided into cabinets comprised from each planet, and each region of the planet. This, of course, means there are millions of representatives in total, and even an elected official from the largest governing body still faces tremendous opposition. Stagnation seems the only thing that they can accomplish.

Credits are the universally accepted currency used by all planets on the frontier, though many colonies also have their own currency which they'll prefer to use. The value of a credit tends to vary depending on where one is spending it; on some planets a single credit would be enough to purchase a case of bullets, though on another a credit is equivalent to a cheap burger at best.
Credits are stored digitally on chips, making transaction easy and preventing them from being stolen, as they require a password to access.


The Age of Earth: N/A - 2093 AD

This time period covers all that has occurred before space exploration and colonization became a common practice, laying the foundation for technology in all forms and how humanity would progress out in the galaxy. The Age of Earth is considered a rather vague term, seeing it includes every event ranging from the stone ages to the beginning of the Solar Conquest, and many events in history have been misplaced, forgotten, or corrupted beyond belief due to centuries of debate and revisions, so the good majority of it is considered little more than myth.

The Solar Conquest: 2093AD - 2314

The Solar Conquest, as it is called, was when mankind began colonizing the planets, asteroids, and moons in its native star system.

There is little to note about this age, but it served as the testing grounds for many innovations that were vital to human expansion, so it was deemed worthy of being considered its own age, despite only lasting a few hundred years.

The only truly noticeable thing to happen, though, was the emergence of wormhole near the far end of Pluto, which led to another solar system with a number of planets that supported proper conditions that were able to support human life. This allowed not only for continued expansion, but for the physics behind a wormhole to be closely examined, and eventually, to be manipulated. The knowledge behind it remains a mystery.

The Age of Exploration: 2315AD - 5671

Considered to be humanities golden age, The Age of Exploration is considered the apex of mankind's scientific knowledge, technological power and economic prosperity. It was in this age where humanity started manipulating the forces of space and time by the generation of warp gates or by traveling through wormholes, using them to access hyperspace and colonize planets beyond their native star, such as in the case of the western frontier.

The majority of known diseases were wiped out because of medical advances, the unemployment rate was at an all time low, warp gates became a common sight and humanity seemed to be an unstoppable force. And they would've been, too, if not for what followed.

The Great Divide 5671AD - 1 SY (Stranded Years)

Sadly, all good things most come to an end, such as humanities golden age. It didn't gradually die down as many expected it would; instead, it violently crashed in a manner of hours.
What exactly happened during this age remains unclear, with hundreds of thousands of theories floating around, though none of them backed by fact. All that is known is the connection between the Western Frontier (The west arm of the galaxy) and the rest of human settlement was lost, along with the very knowledge of what the connection was to begin with.

After the link between was lost, the Western Frontier predictably fell into chaos, with space becoming impossible to navigate with the majority communications and tracking equipment having been destroyed, and the good majority of technology having been lost along with it.

Still, it wasn't as horrid as many make it out to be, as communications between planets in the same system was still possible and local planetary governments kept their population's under control with more than enough bribery and force. In fact, some people (mainly philosophers, religious scholars, etc.) thought it may have actually been better than modern times, but historians and people with actual jobs seem to disagree.

It is expected that this age lasted anywhere between one thousand to two thousand years, but with every planet having a different time, historical records being lost and mass confusion that occurred, these are estimates as best.

This ended with the Rebirth, beginning the calendar referred to as the Stranded Years.

Rebirth SY 1 - Present Day (SY 679)

It seemed likely that the systems of the Western Frontier would remain isolated from each other for all eternity, but then something completely unexpected happened: The gates linking the countless systems of the frontier reactivated, but for reasons unknown, the rest of human expansion was still isolated. No-one knows why or how, but to be fair, not a single person paid much attention.

Within a few short years, a governing body was established, regulating trade, banning the commercial sale of dangerous products and installing laws. However, they had little in the way of enforcing these rulings other than a small policing force, not at all capable of handling what lurked out there. Criminals had grown bold out in lawless space. Some stole to make a living, others committed atrocities for religious purpose, and there were more than a few "thrill killers" roaming hyperspace in battleships for kicks. In order to combat these menaces, planets adopted bounty systems to employ mercenaries, hunters and detectives to capture them in exchange for pay.

And so our story begins...

- - - - Sheet Format/Example- - - -

Name: (Please refrain from using names such as Eric, Dave or Jason, as with all the times that has passed those names have mutated beyond recognition. Instead, your name should be some akin to that found in a fantasy RP, odd and unrecognizable. If you're having trouble, use a generator. If they have a nickname, I'd advice including it here too.)

Age: (You can still look fairly young with the current standards of cosmetics and medicine, so feel free to go nuts with the age. My only request is that it remains above 18 and below 200. )

Gender: (Should be fairly obvious. . .)

Appearance: (Eye color, hair color, skin tone, height, clothing, etc. Please try to remain as a normal human, though with planetary evolution, cosmetics and augmentation thrown in the mix, you are allowed to be somewhat creative. A picture is acceptable, though even if you use one, I'd still like a written description.)

Augments: (Cybernetics and biochemical augmentation are allowed, but be advised that too many can severely hurt you in the long run. Also, they essentially are opposites and can negatively affect each other, so if you want to have a lot of robotic components you aren't going to be able to have a lot of biochemical upgrades. These can be purely cosmetic and are completely optional)

Equipment: (Guns, knives, batons, shields, grenades, hacking equipment, tools, etc. Remember that any guns you have are probably crude, so I'd recommended packing a melee weapon, as firearms are rather ineffective and the majority of combat will be taking place at close range anyway. Considering the characters are, of course, bounty hunters, you should have a non-lethal weapon at your disposal in order to take in perps alive.)

Skills/Specialization: (What you do and what you're good at. Are you a highly trained sniper? An explosives expert? A skilled negotiator? A doctor? Please, elaborate for us. The crew needs to have a wide variety of specializations, therefore anything from a fry cook to an accountant to a tracker will suffice.)

Personality: (How they interact with others, their interests, dislikes, quirks, etc.)

Homeworld: (Please, for the love of god, detail this. I want every one of these to be a viable location for later on in the story, so go into everything you possibly can think of.)

Notes: (Anything you wish to include, but couldn't do so above.)

I want bios to PMed to me. In them, please describe how your character became a bounty hunter and if they have any inner demons troubling them or some sort of troubled past, more likely than not I will have these appear at some point in the story if they are sufficiently entertaining.

Name: Nerin Oeyll Sanaa (Near-rin O-ell Sa-nay)

Age: 31

Gender: Male.

Appearance: Nerin is a slender yet powerful individual, standing at about 5'10 with a thin build comprised of wiry muscle. His body, despite what one might think at first glance, is shockingly strong, capable of throwing a person to the ground without much issue. His skin is moderately tan, though can still appear pale in poor lighting.

Dark brown hair sits atop his head and ends towards the center of his neck, occasionally getting in the way of his eyes on the rare occasions that they aren't being held back by his black bandana or his tinted red goggles. On the topic of his eyes, they are commonly regarded as being a complete oddity, even amongst compared to those that have been dyed absurd colors. Suffering from both Central Heterochromia and Complete Heterochromia, one of his eyes is gray with a violet center, and the other is green with blue center. These are normally covered by his goggles, however, so very few people have had a good look at them.

Nerin can often be seen in a light blue mechanic's jumpsuit covered in a number of oil stains, scratches and cuts. He wears a pair of metal elbow guards, knee guards and shoulder pads above his mechanic's outfit in order to provide himself some protection. In addition to this, he has numerous leather straps that wrap around his attire in order to prevent it from being too loose. He also wears a harness over his chest, holding numerous throwing knives and flash bang grenades.

Augments: Nerin is a rare example of bounty hunter who exhibits no apparent augmentation whatsoever, his flesh seemingly untouched by mechanical and cybernetic parts, though his "purity" is only skin deep. On the surface, he's just another normal human, though in actuality he has a electronic brain implant that allows him to control his heart rate, breathing rate, blood pressure, reaction time, adrenaline and so forth, but only to a certain extent. Because of this, he is far stronger, quicker and more dangerous than any person his size has the right to be, though has to focus incredibly hard in order to control it all, meaning that he rarely has control over his own abilities in situations where he feels his life is threatened. His muscles have also been enhanced via artificial steroids, increasing his strength dramatically. He also has a pair of augmented lungs, which enable him to breathe comfortably in even the most toxic environments.

Equipment: Nerin keeps a number of throwing knives tucked into his harness, roughly a dozen or so. Along with these, he has flash bang grenades, which his goggles seem to do a good enough job protecting himself from. Should he be forced into range combat, he has a bulky, five shot revolver stored in the holster at his side, though he's not very skilled with it. Finally, he has a machete strapped across his back, sharpened to the point it can cleave through a man with ease.

Skills/Specialization: Nerin is first and foremost a mechanic, repairman and an expert salvager. There is little that he can't fix, and should it be beyond repair, he'll be able to repurpose its materials for future use with ease provided he is given something to work towards. He's also fairly talented at knife throwing and hand to hand combat, mostly due to his implant.

He also acts as Blackhearts commanding officer, though Gira is the one truly in charge of the operation.

Personality: Nerin is a clam, sarcastic and sometimes unusual man, often replying to a statement that would normally offended someone else with either sarcasm or simply no reaction at all. While he might not be easily upset, he is easily amused and rather eccentric, finding a fair deal of pleasure in things that most people dismiss as being ordinary or even frustrating, such as gambling, sports and even combat, regardless of how well he may or may not be doing. He has no moral issues with killing, though he tends to refrain from doing so if possible.

Homeworld: Novalisis - An industrial world, famous for exporting ships and other pieces of heavy machinery. This planet is unusual in that all natural aspects of the world have long since vanished; there are no trees, grass or wild animals. Instead, the surface of Novalisis is a single, gigantic metropolis with skyscrapers and factories stretching out for as far as the eyes can see. Naturally, the planet's atmosphere is rather toxic, loaded with chemicals of all kinds, and oxygen tanks, respirators and air filters have become a common sight. Water is hardly scare, though all of it is polluted, and must be chemically treated before it becomes suitable for human consumption.

However, despite the hardships of living aboard a world that is almost uninhabitable, the people of Novalisis are surprisingly friendly, the crime rate is low and the world is financially secure due to its exports. Poverty is almost nonexistent, few are unemployed and healthcare is universal, with many thousands immigrating to the toxic world from other planets in order to provide for themselves and their families on a yearly basis. The cybernetics industry is also booming, most likely due to the demand for artificial lungs that are able to breathe the poisonous air.

Notes: Along with his normal set of weapons and tools, he carries around a small, silver colored dagger which seems to be serve little purpose in combat.

- - - - Rules - - - -
1) Be respectful of the GM and other players
2) No Godmodding, Trenchcoating or mary sueing.
3) It is possible, through poor combat decisions on your part, to die. I'll give you a lot of chances to avoid death, but more likely than not if you try to do something too risky you?re going to be injured at the very least. I?ll explain more about combat once the game is in motion.
4) Don't argue with me.
5) Have fun.​
 

Nukey

Elite Member
Apr 24, 2009
4,125
0
41
- - - -Blackhearts' Assets- - - -​
Name: Nerin Oeyll Sanaa (Near-rin O-ell Sa-nay)

Age: 31

Gender: Male.

Appearance: Nerin is a slender yet powerful individual, standing at about 5'10 with a thin build comprised of wiry muscle. His body, despite what one might think at first glance, is shockingly strong, capable of throwing a person to the ground without much issue. His skin is moderately tan, though can still appear pale in poor lighting.

Dark brown hair sits atop his head and ends towards the center of his neck, occasionally getting in the way of his eyes on the rare occasions that they aren't being held back by his black bandana or his tinted red goggles. On the topic of his eyes, they are commonly regarded as being a complete oddity, even amongst compared to those that have been dyed absurd colors. Suffering from both Central Heterochromia and Complete Heterochromia, one of his eyes is gray with a violet center, and the other is green with blue center. These are normally covered by his goggles, however, so very few people have had a good look at them.

Nerin can often be seen in a light blue mechanic's jumpsuit covered in a number of oil stains, scratches and cuts. He wears a pair of metal elbow guards, knee guards and shoulder pads above his mechanic's outfit in order to provide himself some protection. In addition to this, he has numerous leather straps that wrap around his attire in order to prevent it from being too loose. He also wears a harness over his chest, holding numerous throwing knives and flash bang grenades.

Augments: Nerin is a rare example of bounty hunter who exhibits no apparent augmentation whatsoever, his flesh seemingly untouched by mechanical and cybernetic parts, though his "purity" is only skin deep. On the surface, he's just another normal human, though in actuality he has a electronic brain implant that allows him to control his heart rate, breathing rate, blood pressure, reaction time, adrenaline and so forth, but only to a certain extent. Because of this, he is far stronger, quicker and more dangerous than any person his size has the right to be, though has to focus incredibly hard in order to control it all, meaning that he rarely has control over his own abilities in situations where he feels his life is threatened. His muscles have also been enhanced via artificial steroids, increasing his strength dramatically. He also has a pair of augmented lungs, which enable him to breathe comfortably in even the most toxic environments.

Equipment: Nerin keeps a number of throwing knives tucked into his harness, roughly a dozen or so. Along with these, he has flash bang grenades, which his goggles seem to do a good enough job protecting himself from. Should he be forced into range combat, he has a bulky, five shot revolver stored in the holster at his side, though he's not very skilled with it. Finally, he has a machete strapped across his back, sharpened to the point it can cleave through a man with ease.

Skills/Specialization: Nerin is first and foremost a mechanic, repairman and an expert salvager. There is little that he can't fix, and should it be beyond repair, he'll be able to repurpose its materials for future use with ease provided he is given something to work towards. He's also fairly talented at knife throwing and hand to hand combat, mostly due to his implant.

He also acts as Blackhearts commanding officer, though Gira is the one truly in charge of the operation.

Personality: Nerin is a clam, sarcastic and sometimes unusual man, often replying to a statement that would normally offended someone else with either sarcasm or simply no reaction at all. While he might not be easily upset, he is easily amused and rather eccentric, finding a fair deal of pleasure in things that most people dismiss as being ordinary or even frustrating, such as gambling, sports and even combat, regardless of how well he may or may not be doing. He has no moral issues with killing, though he tends to refrain from doing so if possible.

Homeworld: Novalisis - An industrial world, famous for exporting ships and other pieces of heavy machinery. This planet is unusual in that all natural aspects of the world have long since vanished; there are no trees, grass or wild animals. Instead, the surface of Novalisis is a single, gigantic metropolis with skyscrapers and factories stretching out for as far as the eyes can see. Naturally, the planet's atmosphere is rather toxic, loaded with chemicals of all kinds, and oxygen tanks, respirators and air filters have become a common sight. Water is hardly scare, though all of it is polluted, and must be chemically treated before it becomes suitable for human consumption.

However, despite the hardships of living aboard a world that is almost uninhabitable, the people of Novalisis are surprisingly friendly, the crime rate is low and the world is financially secure due to its exports. Poverty is almost nonexistent, few are unemployed and healthcare is universal, with many thousands immigrating to the toxic world from other planets in order to provide for themselves and their families on a yearly basis. The cybernetics industry is also booming, most likely due to the demand for artificial lungs that are able to breathe the poisonous air.

Notes: Along with his normal set of weapons and tools, he carries around a small, silver colored dagger which seems to be serve little purpose in combat.

Name: Gira Solimun

Age: 123

Gender: Male

Appearance: An older man, Gira Solimun appears to most as an unthreatening individual with obvious signs of his advanced age. He is a stout, portly fellow, being no more than 5'5 whilst also being overweight. Gira, due to his military career, is more machine than man, having lost both of his original legs and replaced them with large, bulky cybernetic prosthetics. His right hand has also been substituted with a spindly, three pronged claw. The little flesh he has remaining is incredibly tan and covered in a spider web of wrinkles. Gira has light blue eyes and is completely bald, save for a gray ponytail and a short beard.

A fan of formal attire and flaunting his wealth, Gira is often seen sporting expensive business attire and plenty of jewelry. He can often be seen wearing golden rings, encrusted with diamonds, on each of his fingers; additionally, he also seems to collect watches.

Augments: Gira has a number of cybernetic augments, the most notable of these being his massive metallic legs and robotic hand. He, furthermore, has a cybernetic heart, optical implants and a prosthetic jaw.

Equipment: Gira, although almost never participating in the actual groundwork of Blackhearts, still insists on keeping himself armed at almost all times. He is in the possession of an old, bolt-action sniper rifle, a semi-automatic handgun and a bowie knife, all of which he is proficient in using.

Skills/Specialization: One of the primary founders of Blackhearts, Gira is the brains behind all of the logistics of the organization?s functions, dealing with the political, legal and financial aspects of the business. He, while a veteran of multiple wars and a long-time bounty hunter, rarely involves himself with the actual apprehension of targets and usually sticks to the office work. He is, of course, still a capable combatant, being a superb shot with a rifle, though prefers to avoid using one altogether.

Personality: A stubborn, practical minded individual, Gira is, first and foremost, a businessman, whom most find to be an unpleasant character to work with due to his uncouth behavior. He is not above utilizing underhanded tactics in order to keep Blackhearts in business and seems to care solely about personal gain. He is typically rather reserved and unfriendly, though warms up towards others after a few drinks.

Homeworld: Chardon 8 - A small, relatively barren moon which orbits the desolate and inhospitable planet Terimun Vul; Chardon 8 is, for the most part, little more than a refueling station for those traveling between star systems. It is an unremarkable moon, only notable for being able to support human life without having needed to be terraformed.

Name: Hiener Woldensul

Age: 53

Gender: Male

Appearance: A horrifically over-augmented man, Hiener bares little resemblance to a human-being and most tend to mistake him for an android. He is, for starters, abnormally tall, towering above most at a tremendous 7'3, which would be intimidating enough on its own even without his robotic appearance. His frame is supported by eight, slender spider-like legs, which enable him to scuttle about at a rather quick pace. The upper-half of his body, on the contrary, is a little more conventional in appearance, seeming a little more humanoid although still very machinelike; in essence, it appears not unlike a metallic skeleton with several robotic appendages. His entire form has painted over time and time again, covered in uneven patterns of red, black, yellow and white paint.

He covers the upper-portion of his metallic form with a brown full-body cloak and has a number of dark-colored fabrics wrapped around each of his robotic limbs.

Augments: Hiener is, for the most part, completely augmented. In fact, it would seem is brain is the only organic part of his original body that remains, and even this had been enhanced with a number of implants; the most notable of these being one that melds his consciousness with the WhiteStar?s systems, enabling to control every aspect of the ship down to the most insignificant details.

Skills/Specialization: Hiener is Blackhearts' primary navigator and pilot, being perhaps one of the most talented in all of the Western Frontier. He also has a background in cyber-security and engineering.

Personality: A surprisingly warm, laid back and generally cheerful fellow, Hiener's sunny disposition catches many off guard due to his unsightly appearance. He is rather open-minded, selfless and non-violent, being the only one in Blackhearts to have not killed another in his entire time working as bounty hunter and genuinely seems to care about making the Western Frontier a safer place for its inhabitants.

Homeworld: Novalisis

A retired military spacecraft, the WhiteStar is a medium-class interstellar battleship, which is the most valuable asset owned by Blackhearts. It is the primary residence and transport for the crew, with a number of small bedrooms for the employees, a kitchen, a command room, storage facilities, a workshop, a sickbay, a hangar capable of storing a handful of personal spacecraft and a cell for transporting captured criminals. It is a rather antiquated vessel, being roughly two hundred years old, though has been rather well maintained. It has been upgraded with more powerful engines, armor-platting, kinetic shielding and armed with two large turrets.

Its age is readily apparent in it's appearance, being a rather bulky vessel covered in dents and rust.

A small, slow-moving vessel that resides within the WhiteStar's hangar, the Vulture is a dropship that is used to deploy the Blackheart's crew to planets and spaceports when the WhiteStar is incapable of landing. It also can act as lifeboat if the WhiteStar needs to be evacuated. The Vulture has no armaments of its own, though does have some impressive shielding capabilities.

Still in progress...
 

NeoAC

Zombie Nation #LetsRise
Jun 9, 2008
8,574
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Welcome back Nukey! I will throw up a reserve to commemorate your return.
 

Lotus_Gait

New member
Jan 3, 2014
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First impressions are great! Need to spend a little more time reading the details a bit more thoroughly but I will more than likely have a sheet up at some point next week!
= ]
 

Athol

New member
Sep 15, 2010
2,563
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Name: Silwey Cherlyn (Prefers to go by Sil)

Age: 40 (Looks 25)

Appearance: Sil appears to be a slender built woman in her mid-20s, standing at only about 5'5". Her shoulder length naturally light blonde hair is now a lustrous silver colour, thanks to some cosmetic biochem treatments; her hair also hides a universal system port/connector set up at the base of skull. Her skin has a naturally pale, almost porcelain like appearance to it; a side effect of being born and raised on a frozen world. These features, combined with silvery, pupiless, cybernetic eyes, gives her an eerie, almost wraithlike appearance...assuming she's wearing a long-sleeved top. If not, one can see she has her left arm sleeved to the wrist in tattoos, while her right arm is fully cybernetic.

She generally wears a fairly form fitting black jumpsuit, with a right sleeve that ends at mid-bicep. She keeps the suit legs tucked into a pair of well made leather knee high boots, while over top of it she wears a leather harness that holds a revolver under her left arm, and some spare ammunition (secured under her right). If she's somewhere where unconcealed weapons are frowned upon, she also has a dark grey crop top jacket to throw over it all.

Down on her waist she has a leather thigh bag strapped to her right side, where she keeps useful bits of kit, as well as her knife.

Augments: Sil has three, very expensive, cybernetic augmentations. The two most obvious is her fully artificial right arm, and her cybernetic eyes, while the third is a quantum co-processor neuro implant, wired directly into her brain.

The right arm is made of a high end, light weight, alloy with a soft polymer 'skin' over top. While it is similar in appearance to Sil's own skin tone, it is obviously not real. The forearm conceals a mico-capacitor bank through which Sil can disable and civilian grade computer system; though she tries to only use it as a last resort, as the discharge plays merry hell with her own body, and it takes forever to recharge. Theoretically it could be used to disable a person, but that is trickier as it was never intended for such a use, and it may cause the target serious harm. Her right hand is what's know as a 'hacker's hand', because each finger (and the thumb) can each split into two separate digits, allowing her to work a physical interface much faster.

Her eyes, aside from looking creepy as hell...a personal choice, allow Sil so see the electromagnetic spectrum from 300 MHz (VHF transmissions) to 300 PHz (X-ray). When tied into a computer system, they also provide a HUD display, letting her work without needing a visible screen. Aside from all that they also provide all the same features as a high-end set of digital binoculars (zoom, image capture, range/speed extrapolation).

The neuro implant allows her to not only use her 'hacker's hand' with great efficiency, but interoperate streams of data from and computer she?s interfaced with as well. It also functions as an onboard storage device, letting her carry several different types of useful software, record both audio and visual information (in a variety of spectrums, thanks to its own receiver, and her eyes), and remotely access systems with its own short-rang transmitter.

On the biochemical side, she only has a couple of augmentations, but they are no less pricey. Her hair is an augmented silver colour, done purely for the hell of it; though she paid good money for an aug that only required one treatment. The other aug is an age rejuvenator that keeps her, physically at least, in her mid-20s; despite its high price it does requires regular reapplications.

Equipment: Since she prefers to do her fighting digitally whenever possible, she's not armed to the teeth, just carrying a revolver and a good quality alloy knife...plus if need be she does have a nasty right cross.

Gear-wise she carries a host of proprietary hack programs and viruses in her head, as well as various electronic odds and ends, and soldering gear, in her thigh bag; should she need to take a more hands-on approach to her work.

Skills/Specialization: In terms of marketable skills, Sil is a top tier hacker and cyber warfare expert. If there is a system out there that she can't break into she has yet to meet it, and if you cross her you'll be lucky if you are left with a pot to piss in.

Weapons wise, she's a decent shot (the cybernetics help a lot) and a fair hand with a blade, but generally she prefers not to physically engage in a fight if she can help it.

Personality: Friendly but reserved, she prefers to keep others at a distance maintaining a sense of emotional detachment from others; on the other hand if she feels she's been seriously insulted or cheated she will do everything in her power to destroy the object of her ire.

Homeworld: Whitefall - A mineral rich world at the outer edge of the 'Goldilocks' zone, it is barely habitable. As the name might suggest, it's an ice covered planet where the average 'summer' temperature barely makes it into the single digit positives (Highest recorded temperature since colonization, +5 Celsius). While the weather may make Whitefall a frozen nightmare, its rich ores make in incredibly wealthy. Each domed city was and is built around the mine that employs it, each producing tens of millions of tonnes of ores, which are smelted down and used for everything from electronics to starship hulls.

While the mines are prosperous, each city is essentially a 'company town' where the mining companies pay their employees in company scrip that is worthless off planet. This ensures the workforce is entirely indebted to the mining companies, and unable to buy their way off-planet and tell anyone else of the conditions on Whitefall. The mining companies essentially own the planet, buying of any and all levels of government and all of the media outlets, allowing them to suppress and squash any attempts at revolt as soon as they are spotted; dissenters are usually taken away without any sort of formal arrest being issued, and tossed out into the wild to freeze to death or be eaten by the local fauna.

Because of the mining companies policies and enforcement the crime and unemployment rates are almost nonexistent, but there is massive unrest amongst the planetary population. There are dozens of hacktivist usenets on Whitefall, full of people wanting to overthrow the current system, but they limit their activities to cyber warfare attacks, as the companies are very good at putting down any real world disruptions.

Notes: Sil is a pretty fair cook, and a lover of fine cigars.
 

evilengine

New member
Nov 20, 2009
306
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Name: Gwangi Quinn, aka Peppered Lizard, aka Pepper

Age: Unknown (looks between 60-70)

Gender: Male

Appearance: If a 300 year old oak tree turned into a human, it would look like this man. Dark skinned and black haired, his face is a mess of deep wrinkles and scars, forming an almost bark-like skin texture (or try to imagine a cross between Charles Bronson and Mickey Rourke). Descending from a community similar to Native Americans, Pepper is an imposing man, not especially tall or muscular, but has a mysterious and striking air about him, his eyes scrunched up and nearly invisible, save for an unsettling black glint. Smells strongly of tobacco.

His near permanent attire consists of a thick heavy jacket, nearly as old as he is by the looks of it. Scuffed up and patched, with numerous stains and questionable small holes all around it. Under that is a thoroughly unclean vest, just as stained and unpleasant as his jacket, a rather empty-lookng bandolier across his chest. Around his neck he wears a bandana/neckerchief. Trousers look incredibly worn out, like his jacket, it's hard to tell how exactly he is keeping all his garments in one piece. A pair of heavy boots pokes out under the trouser cuffs. Lastly, he wears an Australian outback hat with the sides folded upwards, again, very old and tattered.

Has a very large and peculiar circular scar that covers nearly all of his stomach, dark grey like he was burned and speckled with whitish dots.

Augments: Has had several biochemical implants that improve his senses, these include eyes that adapt superbly to all light levels, meaning no longer requires sunglasses, can reduce the effects of flash bangs and can see just as well in the dark. Also his hearing has been upgraded, helping him pinpoint exact locations of the sounds he hears, as well as a small cybernetic implant that helps comprehend most basic spoken languages.

His muscles and stamina have been improved via biochemicals, so much so he has been known to walk for days at a time without stopping to rest. Modified internal organs allowing him to survive much longer without food or water, and a filtration system that makes it safer to drink poisonous food and dirty water.

Has metal coating on the bones in his hands to the extent he punches like he is constantly wearing knuckle dusters, and lastly a cybernetic lighter built into his thumb, producing a small flame from the tip, usually performs a lighter-like click to show this off.

Equipment: Carries a shoddy looking sawn-off lever action shotgun that is usually hidden under his right arm inside his jacket. Has a large knife on his belt and a sizeable length of strong rope that he either wears across his chest with his bandolier or hangs on his belt. Also carries a small telescope.

Skills/Specialization: An expert ranger and tracker, easily makes his home in nearly any sort of wilderness. He's good shot with a rifle, having hunted both animals and people most of his life, he takes careful aim as he appreciates how few shots he has and tries to make every bullet count.

Personality: A fairly quiet man, he is used to living and working alone, so don't expect too much of a conversation from him. Deep voiced and calm, not much is known about him as he does not talk much about his past with strangers, or even that much with the few friends he has had. Has been a bounty hunter for good part of his life, and is known to be very reliable, if rather strange and imposing. Quietly assesses his situations before acting.

Homeworld: Deepsun - Very reminiscent of the American west, its equator is mostly desert, with enormous grassy plains towards the north and south. This is due to the planet being the closest to the sun in its solar system, there are no real seasons there, just a near permanent summer.

The desert is a barren wasteland of sand, dirt and massive peculiar-shaped rock formations, the plains not fairing much better, mile after mile of bleached grass and the occasional dried tree. Wildlife is scarce, requiring inhabitants to farm or take long treks to hunt down food or capture them live.

Settlements range from ancient homes built into the rocks and cliffs, to ramshackle shanty towns. The planet would be just another unpleasant rock in the void of space; however by a twist of fate Deepsun is rumoured to hold an untold wealth of fossil fuels and raw ores. Some see it as suicide, seeing how only moderate amount of oil has ever been found, more daring raiders venture into the deserts to find this untapped wealth, only to return empty handed... or not at all.

Communities range from tiny clans living in the wastelands, to the few sprawling metropolises that surround and leach off the few bodies of water that exist there. These places are rife with criminal activity and unpleasant folk, so much so it is a goldmine for the bounty hunters that regularly visit. The actual people of Deepsun are very similar to today's Native Americans, though they do not practice in any of our Indian folklore.
 

CloggedDonkey

New member
Nov 4, 2009
4,055
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Welcome back, Nukes! I've actually come out of my tomb to see this, and I'm so old on this place that the guys before me are practically myths, so getting all of those cobwebs off my mummy wraps suck.

Name: Salish Nufor

Age: 75, appears somewhere in the mid-to-late thirties

Gender: Male

Appearance: With an ambiguous "brown" skin color, pale green eyes, and thin, short, blonde hair, Salish looks out of place just about anywhere in known space. This is by design, as the rest of his body is well muscled and cared for, lacking many other common identifiers like tattoos, piercings, or scars, all surgically removed. He stands at 6'4", even taller at nearly seven feet in his preferred combat armor, and his muscles make him look even larger.

Augments: A simple PDA type interface installed throughout his body. This helps him remember objectives, gives him a digital clock he can easily set to regional times, has a contact book on it for various employers, teammates, or contacts in the area. He also has rather outdated "combat rig" setup, various mechanical pieces that gave him faster reaction time and stronger muscles, as well as slightly advanced healing (a wound that would take a month to heal would take three weeks, for a rough time estimate).

Equipment:

Weapons (non-lethal): A "Persuader," a stun-gun and cattle prod combo meant to look like an overly large, bulky double-barreled pistol. Used mostly for intimidating contacts and civilians that can't tell the different between a proper firearm and this weapon. He also carries two stun batons "liberated" from the police on one rather daring raid that left most of his former crew dead and him looking for a job far, far away from his home cluster.

Weapons: (lethal): A set of an assault rifle and service pistol from the Tir Na Nog military, both firing large caliber rounds, as well as a pair of officer's swords. The assault rifle, a TAR 22, is bulky and boxy, looking almost like a rectangular, gunmetal gray box with a stock, grip, barrel and magazine shoved into it. It is highly modified for accuracy and adaptability, needing only a few minutes to switch out barrels and mechanism to fire larger rounds. The pistol, a Tir Na Nog Arms Scatter 55, is similarly designed to the assault rifle, being function over form and throwing large rounds down range. It is a backup weapon, only used when all else fails. It is less modified than the rifle, but has been made a little more accurate than the base model.

The swords are two Tir Na Nog Marine officer's swords, or at least were at some point. They have been modified in an array of ways, being better balanced, having the blades replaced with sharper, sturdier metal, and having a small vibration engine installed. They are meant primarily for dealing with lightly or unarmored targets, but have some use for taking down heavier armored combatants.

Armor: A heavily modified, normally outdated combat armor suit, worn roughly fifty years ago by the Tir Na Nog military. Over the years it has collected scars and scratches, and most of the colors of the military that used it have been washed out and replaced with a paintjob, most of the time different for each mission so as to keep others from tracking Salish. It still bares the green, white and orange colors of his home planet on a small patch on the shoulder, however, and he never repaints it.

Misc: Repair tools for his weapons and armor, as well as basic printed star maps and even more basic pathfinding tools of a compass and chalk.

Skills/Specialization: In essence, a no-nonsense bounty hunter and soldier. Salish will fight, kill, and capture when asked, and will do it well. Negotiations are for someone else, the Persuader is for intimidation factor, not for diplomatic measures. He's skilled in rifles and pistols but, due to how advanced melee weapons had become, he is especially skilled with military and police melee weapons, feeling uncomfortable with much else.

Personality: Salish is highly trained and disciplined, focusing on missions and what needs to be done. He is in no way afraid to hurt or even kill civilians, police, or unnecessary targets if it means getting the mark. He will try to avoid them, since they often mean less payout and needing a safe house for a while, but he won't be overly torn if cops end up dead to get a paycheck. The only people he will never betray or leave in his line of fire are other bounty hunters so as not to cause too much strife, and as a professional courtesy.

In his personal life, he enjoys fine things. Expensive, if modest suits, fine dining, and luxury cars are some of his favorites, but he enjoys exotic locations and expensive "toys" just slightly less. He carries himself as a professional most of the time, but allows for some fun to come out when he wants. He would never be caught dead at a night club, but he does occasionally go and do various activities such as see movies or visit plays and concerts.

Homeworld: Tir Na Nog ? One of the oldest colonies outside of the first solar system, Tir Na Nog was founded originally in the Age of Exploration as the United Kingdom's Offworld Colony. Most occupants, however, were Irish and not English, as most Englishmen were going to more lucrative colonies. Several leaders called for it to become separate from other United Kingdom settlements, and, eventually, a brief rebellion lead to Tir Na Nog, an ancient name that no one quite knew the name for, but knew it was an important place to the largely Irish settler's ancient ancestors.

The planet was very swampy, with most arable land being terraformed or extremely rare. While the atmosphere was made breathable after a few years of terraforming, the swamps were, and still are, a dangerous place, with large, poisonous insects and reptiles lurking in them.

It was largely left alone for the remainder of the Age of Exploration, with only the occasional UK (and her eventual secession states) coming every once in a while to try to bring them back into the fold. By the end of the age, Tir was mostly multiracial like any other world and the only thing that kept it different was the odd name and some isolationist policies.

During the Great Divide, Tir had largely left itself out of the affairs of the rest of the worlds in the region. It didn't want anything to do with them, and they mostly felt the same about them. It wasn't until well into the 300 SYs when a massive Tir Na Nog assault fleet descended on the system that anyone seemed to care about that green ball of swamp gas.

While the fleet was eventually stopped by a coalition of the other planets in the system, the fleet being destroyed to a man at the Battle of Warmac it did untold damage to several worlds. For this, the coalition demanded that Tir Na Nog soldiers be stationed on these planets as their military, under the command of the local government. This lead to an uneasy alliance that, if Tir attacked again, they would be fighting other members of the Tir Na Nog military and not the poorly trained and equipped men of the rest of the cluster.

This lasted until the Rebirth, where Tir Na Nog was in contact with the wider universe and saw itself severely outgunned. In a last ditch effort, the Tir Na Nog military launched another massive offensive against the cluster of planets it was in during 624 SY. This fleet managed to conquer most every planet in the cluster before a fleet dispatched by a much wider coalition, encompassing a fair amount of planets from around the universe.

The Tir fleet fought bravely, but was ultimately brought down in the Battle of Drak Seven to overwhelming numbers. Since then, Tir Na Nog has been forbidden to keep a fleet or standing army of any kind, instead relying on neighbors for protection. It's from this that many Bounty Hunters got their start, as former Tir soldiers found themselves trained, equipped, and out of work.

Today, Tir Na Nog is a bit of a backwater, the skies polluted and the swamps still as grey and horrible as before, but now with industrial toxins dumped in. Their government is entirely economics and civil, with the military being handled by any planet that is still on speaking terms with them. Most people on the planet want off it, and no one wants on it, leaving eerie sights like huge mansions or entire skyscraper areas completely abandoned without a soul in sight, right next to walled in slums with homes built upon one another.
 

Lotus_Gait

New member
Jan 3, 2014
36
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Name: Torean Pelivar

Age: 38

Gender: Male

Appearance: Torean stands at 5'5", with a very lean - yet muscular - build. He is an incredibly pale man, made all the more striking by his entirely bald head. Emerald green eyes stare feverishly out of sunken sockets, giving Torean the look of a man unhinged.

Torean's clothing is fairly simple. He wears scuffed black combat boots, with a pair of close-fitting black cargo pants tucked into them. A grubby white vest graces his wiry torso and hanging from his neck are three items: a brown and sand-coloured scarf, a pair of clear-lensed goggles and a small corked vial of - what appears to be - sand attached to a leather cord.

Perhaps most interestingly of Torean's clothing however, is the sand coat he wears. At first glance, it appears to be made from suede, but is in fact the hide of a yak found on Torean's homeworld, Tigrinya, giving it surprising durability. The inside is also lined with the thin brown hairs from the same creature, giving the coat remarkable protection against both hot and cold climates.

Augments: Unlike many bounty hunters of his era, Torean has no augmentations or biochemical modifications, instead relying on his own natural skills to get jobs done.

Equipment: Torean's ranged weapon of choice is a high quality crossbow that he carries strapped over his right shoulder. It has been modified so it's barrel and limbs fold together. Although Torean often chooses to do without one, a scope can also be fitted to the crossbow. The bolts sit in a quiver strapped over his left shoulder.

For close combat, Torean has two heavy-bladed hunting knives belted at his left hip, one above the other. A smaller, slightly rusted knife is strapped across his chest in front of his heart although he is rarely seen to use it.

Torean's final weapons are for usually non-lethal force. Two chrome telescopic batons sit behind his belt, used for breaking bones and knocking heads, but more than capable of cracking skulls if need be.

Skills/Specialization: Torean is a highly skilled interrogator, able to glean the most private aspects of even the most hardened men's lives. He is also very proficient in guerilla-style tactics; hit and run, stealth and trap-laying are all things he has experience with.

Personality: Torean is, above all, an angry man. He has a hundred shades of fury from the ice-cold calm to the volcanic eruptions of unbridled violence. His mood changes quick as lightning and he is prone to flashes of extreme violence before settling back into an indifferent calm. Many who have worked with Torean describe him as rabid

As a result of life surrounded by scientifically enhanced superioirity, Torean harbours a deep disdain for augmentations and biochemicals that enhance skills. He believes that anyone who relies on such technology are weak and that anyone who would only survive with such augmentations shouldn't have gotten themselves fatally wounded anyway. Torean believes in his own natural abilities and that's enough for him.

Homeworld: Tigrinya - A lonely planet orbiting it's own enormous sun, Tigrinya's sand-cursed lands have very little to offer anyone who wishes to settle there. But settled it was, hundreds of years ago, when a few thousand humans wanted to get away from the confused bustle of the multi-governmented Frontier. Tigrinya was small - and uninviting - enough to allow these humans to make a colony of their own without being bothered.

However, the planet quickly broke up the colony into hundreds of smaller bands that had to become nomadic to survive. Tigrinya is a desert planet with constantly swirling sandstorms that can be so violent, a man would be ripped to shreds within minutes if he couldn't find shelter. This is why the original colonists became nomads; constantly pursued by the harsher sandstorms, they had to keep moving or die.

The nomads made their living farming what is known as the Tigrin Yak, a hulking creature with thick horns half the length of a man and long, coarse hair covering it's body. The yaks have incredibly hard skin that could withstand any except the most violent of sandstorms, and fur that cooled them during the long, hot days and kept them warm during the bitterly cold nights. As a result of the tigrin yak's hardiness, the colonists began to farm them; using their milk, fur and hides to make high quality products that were rare and could be sold at a high price.

For a time, the people of Tigrinya prospered despite their constant fleeing of the sandstorms. Soon though, the solitary location of the planet became a draw for smugglers and criminals, wanting to do deals without notice. The native people weren't affected much by this, as they were always moving but the peace of Tigrinya could not last when two rival crime syndicates decided to claim Tigrinya as their own base of operations.

During the years of what is known as the Sandstorm War, Tigrinya's sand soaked up the blood of thousands of mercenaries and criminals fighting for the two syndicates' claims on the planet. Whereever the sandstorms were softest, battle raged the hardest, and the Tigrin Nomads had nowhere safe to go. Some managed to evacuate on ships, but many chose - or were forced - to stay. Many more died.

Now, Tigrinya's Nomads are thought to number less than five-hundred, and the Tigrin yak is thought to only exist within the nomad tribes, it's extinction in the wild caused by the Sandstorm War. Tigrinya's brief life as a colonised planet is now more well-known as a haven for criminal activity than the once sought-after Tigrin yak products it boasted.
 

EnigmaticSevens

New member
Sep 18, 2009
265
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My, my, looks interesting, very interesting indeed. I do believe I have something in mind that should suit this nicely. I'll try my best to have it up shortly, though I apologize in advance for any slight delay, this week is terribly hectic and wont settle until after Sunday.
 

NeoAC

Zombie Nation #LetsRise
Jun 9, 2008
8,574
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0
Name: Riikka "Angel" Valimaa

Age: 28

Gender: Female

Appearance: Riikka is 5'11" with a slim body that was gifted with endowments that made life a lot easier growing up. Her legs are shapely as ever, and her curves still pop out upon a first glance. Her skin retains that pale coloring that comes with a lifetime with little sun, although it has deepened with her recent time spent travelling.

Her shoulder-blade length hair is naturally blonde, but it has been streaked with sea blue, most prominently on her bangs, which were completely surrendered to the darker color. Varying streaks appear behind it, and they stand out when tied back in the ponytail she usually wears, although when out gathering info, it falls back down into place once she gets talking with her contact. Riikka's eyes are a lighter shade than her hair, an icy lake blue to contrast the sea blue. If one stared into them, they could see a faintly glowing ring in her right eye, an orange when she is lost in thought. She has a pair of tattoos; an outline pair of angel wings across her shoulder blades and a snowflake tramp stamp.

Outfits for Riikka vary based on what's necessary for meeting with her contacts, but her primary outfit consists of a tight white t-shirt cutoff at the midriff, a pair of black shorts reaching two thirds the way down her thighs, and a pair of shin-high black lace up boots. It's accessorized with a choker necklace consisting of a golden chain with a morganite pendant hanging from it, a thin white belt, and the slim leather holsters on her legs that hold her main weapons of choice. She does have a jet black jumpsuit used for missions where she has advanced knowledge of what's going on and what is necessary, but she prefers to keep things casual whenever she can.

Augments: Riikka's right eye has that glow to it because it is a cybernetic replacement. It serves as an enhanced reality display, allowing for better aim when throwing one of her daggers, better info when trying to talk a dealer down from an exorbitant price on bounty info, or better reviews on whether or not the restaurant in front of them has been condemned for biochemcial weapons use. It wasn't cheap to get it looking like it's twin, but no expense was spared.

That is the only cybernetic in her body, although Riikka has had some biochemical work done. Her body was infused with steroids critical for boosting the healing process. These allow her to recover quickly from any exertion, and give a strength boost, although given the lack of upkeep, the latter effect has faded over time. What hasn't faded is the blue in her hair, a permanent enhancement given to her on her 23rd birthday by a friend.

Equipment: Not used to working with a heavy tool kit, Riikka doesn't carry much. She has her non-lethal weapon, a small hand-held stun gun, capable of shocking a Tigrin yak into submission. A newer model to replace the one she previously owned, this tiny black model looks sleeker and packs a bigger wallop, but it lacks the nostalgic touch of her prior large black and blue one. This one is easily concealable though, and allows for unexpected take downs of targets.

Her main lethal weapons are a pair of daggers she keeps strapped to her thighs. She's put in a lot of time practicing with the bladed weapons and is now very efficient at getting them out quickly and getting them into whoever or whatever she wants stabbed, no matter if she is up close and personal, or far away enough to have to fling them.

Skills/Specialization: Riikka is a very good negotiator, usually able to charm her way in close with whoever she needs to talk to. Most of the time, she's able to get into the good graces through her looks alone, but she's learned some subtle verbal and tactile tricks to help her own cause. As such, she's also able to coerce a lot of valuable information out of most of the unsavory people she has to deal with.

In addition, Riikka's body is in very good shape. Despite getting too close to 30 for her liking, it's maintained it's flexibility, allowing her access into spots that otherwise might be unreachable. Of course, the biochemicals helped a bit with this upkeep.

Personality: Riikka is a very outgoing person. She will chat up everyone and anyone, in an effort to get info, to meet people who might be of use to her, or to get what she wants. She has is very positive, a necessity to make people feel comfortable with her, but a natural extension of her personality. However, if you somehow manage to end up on her shitlist, you are permanently marked in her books. She will ruthlessly seek retribution. It may not come immediately, but her vengeance will be great.

Homeworld: Criado - A mostly barren planet, Criado's poles are uninhabitable ice lands that repel even the hardiest of travelers, but it's equatorial belt is close enough to it's sun that it can sustain life. The belt of green breaks through the brown temperate zone and ice blue polar regions to create a weirdly colored planet from a distance.

The main attraction is the largest city, uncreatively named Criado City. The sprawling metropolis occupies a full two degrees of longitude along the belt, and has been built up into one of the Frontier's premier capitals of pleasure, a hedonistic orgy juxtaposed by the wastelands around it. If you want to do something in the city, chances are there is a building solely dedicated to it, and for a fee, you can enjoy it. The most popular are the old; staples are the most popular; gambling, prostitution, drugs of all states and levels of effect. The municipal services are ineffective and corrupt, as money talks in Criado. The rich control most of the goings on, and if you want something done, you have to convince them of it's value. If you can get in with one of them though, you have a powerful ally to be sure.

The areas outside Criado along the livable regions are rural throwbacks, consisting mostly of farms and other dirtier but life-sustaining business that the city dwellers don't want to deal with. It's a quieter area for those who detest the neon excess that the city represents. Those who need supplies head to the other city on the planet, Viani, which does have the affinities of a city, but none of the extraneous business that set up shop in Criado.

Notes: Riikka's favorite food is fettucine alfredo.
 

Knife-28

New member
Oct 10, 2009
5,293
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0
Tons of old faces? Fantastic premise? Count me in.
Name: Aizto Ertzean (Ayz-toe Ert-zan)


Age: Physically he looks like he's in his late 30's/early 40's, though not even he knows his actual age anymore, other than he's pretty damn old.


Gender: Male


Appearance: Aizto has blue eyes, stands at about average height with a muscular frame, a mop of shaggy, dirty blond hair and similarly coloured stubble. He as a deep tan and several scars across his body from growing up on Cuburra the most striking of which is a three pronged slash across his chest result of a tangle with a Desert Ngarrang, a species of reptile that lives on Cuburra. It's also the same lizard who's pelt he now wears as a coat. Similar ventures resulted in the cybernetic replacements of his right hand, after it was bitten off by a Giant Burumurring and left leg, which he lost in a rockfall while traversing the Duwal Canyon. His right ring finger contains a gold band build into the digit.
His normal apparel is rather plain in comparison. A pair of sturdy boots, some jeans that were once dark gray but have faded considerably since, a blue button up shirt, a pair of darkened aviators and battered brown akubra hat. He also wears a leather glove on his left hand.
His prized possession is his longcoat. Made from the hide of a Desert Ngarrang that he hunted down and killed (Not that it didn't put up a fight first) the last time he was on his homeworld, the sand coloured scales that once protected the great lizard now not only protects Aizto from the elements but also function as a (somewhat crude, admittedly) armour. Not that it's impenetrable, it won't stop a bullet but it'll stop a blade, or at least prevent a potentially life threatening injury, depending on how prolific the attacker is with a blade.


Augments: While the original was digested long ago, Aizto's current right hand, wrist and part of his arm are entirely cybernetic. In it are several gadgets that he has added over the years. These include;
A lighter in the thumb activated when Aizto clicks his fingers. This is also used as the pilot flame for a miniaturized flamethrower concealed in the hand. A hidden nozzle in the palm is connected to a cartridge located just behind the wrist. When the pilot flame is active and Aizto holds his hand up the nozzle extrudes from the palm. If he bends his thumb so the flame is in line with the nozzle a thin stream of flammable gel will be shot from the nozzle at high velocity, which will be ignited by the flame with and adhere to most surfaces. The cartridge only holds enough for 10 seconds of continuous fire, so it's only a last resort weapon.

His index and middle finger are capable of simultaneously or independently injecting chemicals and substances through thin needles in the finger tips. These are again drawn from cartridges located just behind the wrist. Depending on the substance (Such as a sedative) these cartridges have to be measured to the exact percentage, as the entire cartridge is used in the injection.

The wrist also contains a micro-computer linked to Aizto's aviators and is capable of projecting a holographic keyboard.
His leg on the other hand is a rather run of the mill unit, though it contains a hidden compartment for Aizto's revolver located just below the thigh and a 2nd containing a small blade just above the ankle.



Equipment: In terms of lethal weapons Aizto has his fathers revolver, passed down to him on his 16th birthday and 2 tanto, one on each side of his hip, both the handles of the revolver and the tanto are carved from the wood of a Ciliata tree, which make up Cuburra's famous red forests. As they share the wood's dark, nearly blood red colour. He also has a survival knife hidden in his boot and alongside the small blade hidden in his leg.

On the non-lethal side of things Aizto's glove on his left hand is capable of emitting an electric shock comparable to a standard stun gun, though it has a limited charge before he has to allow it to recharge. He also has a plethora of chemical compounds such as sedatives, hallucinogens and even poisons that can be delivered through the needles in his index and middle fingers and is capable of simply incapacitating someone to outright killing them if the need arises with a simple tap to the wrist or the side of the neck.

He keeps these concoctions in a small case concealed in his coat, along with the necessary tools to repair his cybernetics if needed and other odds and ends that come in handy in the bounty hunting business, such as handcuffs, duct tape and a flask of whiskey kept in the left pocket of his jeans. He also has a pair of aviators that function as a heads up display for the computer in his wrist.


Skills/Specialization: Aizto is a born fighter. He relishes it and he's had a long time to hone his skills since the schoolyard scraps of his youth and is capable in most forms of combat, though he prefers getting up close and personal with his opponents, whether it be with his fists or with a blade. While he's a pretty good hunter and outdoors man, truth be told most of the animals he hunted on Cuburra weren't exactly hard to find.

Unfortulently Bounty Hunting requires its targets alive more often than not and simply stunning your target then carting them off only gets you so far. Aizto luckily took a liking to chemistry during his schooling, while he couldn't tell you the chemical process used in the formation of Adamantane he does know the exact amount of Crais flower to mix in with Chabon leaf to form a powerful sedative (Diluted, it can be also used as a salad dressing). He can also whip up some pretty nice (if exotic) meals and drinks given the chance.


Personality: Aizto is a rather sociable bloke, if a little abrasive at times. He's not one to water down his opinions and will say exactly what he's thinking, a trait that's gotten him into more than a few fights (Not that it bothers him). He also fancies himself as a bit of a storyteller and he has no shortage of material.
Beneath it all though he has a heck of a temper, so it's not a good idea to get on his bad side.


Homeworld: Cuburra (Coo-burra), one of the moons of the gas giant Guwiyang and the only one that was capable of human habitation without terraforming. Cuburra is a world of extremes, despite its size (barely larger than Earths own moon) it has a vast and varied ecosystem with forests of amazing red trees, deserts of silver sand, valleys of pale brown rock carved by rivers leading to oceans of deep purple. Despite its stunning appearances though the native plant and animal life of Cuburra is...more than a little unfriendly to human life with huge reptiles to size of cars, fiercely territorial flying monstrosities that can hassle a single man fighter alone and nearly take down a decent sized freighter if it's unlucky enough to encounter a flock. Even the relatively benign animals are deadly if you're not careful, the Banggarai, or 'Woolly Raptors' are exactly what they sound like, great hairy herbivores the size of a man with claws that could disembowel an elephant in one kick.

The Age of Exploration was well underway when Guwiyang was discovered by a lone scout probe and when its moons were scouted. When it found Cuburra, lush, fertile and inhabitable by humanity despite its somewhat hostile ecosystem, it presented an interesting problem. While habitable planets were by no means common, no one wanted to move to what was (And still is) a world so far out on the edge of space to be eaten by a creature they'd never heard of. The distance, coupled by the wildlife meant that the only people interested in the moon were scientists and industrialists, attracted for the moon's mineral wealth. Oddly enough, a 3rd party entered the scene; the prison industrial complex. While the discovery of new worlds meant the human race could expand like never before, not many of the new colonies wanted to build prisons to house their criminals, so what did they do? Ship them off world to already existing facilities. As these existing facilities were reaching the breaking point, Cuburra presented a shining opportunity.

Partnering with the mining companies that wanted the wealth beneath the moon's surface, facilities were built on Cuburra to house the convicts who the mining companies could be used as cheap labour. When their sentences were up, many couldn't afford the shuttle off world, so they stayed, built cities and towns, and eventually adapted to Cuburra's hostile wildlife. They learned where it was safe to build their settlements, what foods could be farmed and what couldn't. Towns sprang up all over the moon, carved into the sides of its deep valleys, hidden under its shimmering sands and on the coasts of its majestic oceans.

Nearly half a century, many can remember where they were during The Migration, when the great lizards of the north, the Ngarrang moved their way south, and The Extermination, a mass military and civillian effort to destroy the creatures.

Notes: Aizto's favourite drink is whiskey, and the flask he carries with him never stays full for very long.
 

Yorgmiester

New member
Feb 3, 2009
1,767
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Here I am, Nukey!

Name: Oazel Clattuq

Age: 30

Gender: Male

Appearance: Oazel appears young for his age, and notably androgynous. Besides an angular jaw and large nose that give away his masculinity, his features are soft and rather feminine. He has full lips and large green eyes, and a very slim body that would look more at place in a swimming pool than on a battlefield. He accents his pale skin with makeup and keeps his dark hair long, adding to the illusion. His height is average at just under six feet, though his thinness can make him appear taller. He has two large areas of scar tissue on opposite sides of his torso, just below the heart, and a number of other smaller scars dotting his head and body. His left ear is half missing, though it has been cleverly concealed with a stylish metal earpiece depicting a feathered serpent.

Augments: Oazel's only cybernetic augment is an NCONU, or Neural-Control Omnidirectional Navigation Unit (more commonly referred to as a helipack or rotorpack). The device looks like a backpack sporting twin aerial propellers on either side, in as setup similar to that of tilt-rotor aircraft. The unit is detachable, snapping into a neural dock on Oazel's back, where it allows him to control the direction and power of each propeller with his brain. The propellers are capable of a very wide range of motion, giving him impressive maneuverability in the air. When powered off the propellers can fold down and to the side, much like the wings of an insect. There are pouches on the sides of the pack for storing small items, and four sturdy straps can aid in securing distributing its weight across his body.

It is notable also that Oazel has a mostly titanium rib cage. The original was destroyed by a sniper shot that nearly ended his life and left him with the two large scars on either side of his chest.

Equipment: A medkit and toolkit usually accompany Oazel into combat, both of which hang on a belt around his waist. He also typically has a pair of infrared/night-vision goggles slung around his neck. His firearms consist of a standard revolver and a high-capacity bolt action rifle. He carries a single-edge blade similar to the Chinese broadsword, and a small combat knife. His non-lethal weapon of choice is a compact net-gun that uses tungsten weights and a biosteel mesh with just enough electrical charge to stun most targets.

Skills/Specialization: Oazel is a well-rounded fighter as well as an experienced combat medic. He is able to quickly and effectively treat minor wounds and stabilize more serious patients until they can get the proper medical attention. Being a sort of tinkerer, he can fix many small machines and devices by hand. He has had passing success doing minor engine repair and maintenance in the past.

Personality: Oazel is mostly a quiet, unassuming individual. He is friendly, but introverted, and tends to keep his own counsel. Hardships in his youth taught him the importance of family and friendships, so he places a high value on loyalty. He takes care of those close to him. Though his kindness has been calloused over by years of struggle, he can be warm, and does not kill without remorse. These days he avoids conflict unless his job demands it.

Homeworld: Seswon 2. This large planet, named after the father of modern science, Sintacri Seswon, was settled as a research colony in 2600 during the Age of Exploration after it was discovered to possess some unique characteristics useful to the scientific developments of the time. It is firstly notable for being abnormally large for a hospitable planet (nearly 300,000 km in circumference), and secondly for having a gravitational center that is several hundred kilometers away from its geometric center, creating a marked difference in gravitational force on opposing sides of the planet. This disparity also causes both a short-term planetary wobble much like that experienced on Earth and much longer slow wobble that takes several hundred thousand years to complete. The first results in rapid seasons and poles with a wide range of travel. The second wobble, called Vom's Wobble, has resulted in a planet that over the past several billions years has had no definitive climate, geological, or even gravitational zones. Seswon 2's flora, fauna, and environs are as a consequence incredibly diverse, having out of necessity had to adapt to a world where everything down to elevation and air pressure will always be changing relatively rapidly.

It comes as no surprise, then, that a planet with such high biodiversity and geological activity was a prized scientific outpost and as such a natural magnet for wealth and progress. Even after science had moved past the need to so intensely study this planet's unique attributes, it remained a hub of technological development. It flourished during the Golden Age and its system became one of the most successful in the Frontier. The chaos following the Great Divide made no exception for Seswon 2, however, and three millennias of progress was lost in a few short years of confusion and turmoil. The Rebirth dawned on a planet that was a shadow of its former glory.

Despite this, the people of Seswon 2 have held on to their heritage and in the years since have made great technological contributions to the Western Frontier. It was home to a sort of scientific renaissance in the SY 200s and has reclaimed its place as one of the Frontier's central systems. It is of course subject to the rampant corruption and lawlessness that now pervade this measly corner of the galaxy. Gun Warlords are a big problem on Seswon 2, and there is a growing rift between those who get to benefit from the planet's scientific advances and a dissatisfied lower class. The technology loss of the Great Divide also reintroduced geography such as mountains and oceans as boundaries to an unaccustomed population, and there still exist many isolated pockets of people living in various levels of primitivity.

Notes: He's good in bed.
 

Lost In The Void

When in doubt, curl up and cry
Aug 27, 2008
10,128
0
0
Name: Loss Weltschmerz

Age: 67

Sex: Male

Description: He wears a black button up shirt that shows obvious wear. Scuffs and tears litter the shirt, making it such an article only by name. His tattered appearance continues onto the pants he wears, a pair of black trousers with the knees torn out and one of the back pockets ripped and left hanging, as if something had been torn from its care.

He face, by contrast is practically unblemished, save for a faint scar from an old surgery above his left eye. The eye itself is a pale blue, a stark difference from his right eye that twinkles a deep blue instead. He has a slight five o clock shadow, the dark hairs matching the trim and well-kept brown hair on his head. His skin is Caucasian, but well-tanned from a life in the desert. Pale white scars run from the back of his neck, onto his shoulders and through to his arms and wrists. Thicker, more knotted scars run down his back, down his legs, to his ankles and feet.

Augments: His left eye is a Mark I Hausser Enhanced Reaction Package, configured to trigger nerve responses in his legs and arms. Using this ER package, his senses are slightly faster than the average man. This is achieved by having the primary sensory nerves in these limbs removed and replaced with the Hausser ER Artificial Nerve Package, commonly used only in medical emergencies for heavy nerve damage.

Equipment: Strapped to his hip are two blades, each about 9 inches at the hilt. The handles are carved from a white bone from a large beast native to the deserts of Loch?Run. Painstakingly carved into the now rusted steel are the words ?Mercy,? on the left blade and ?Vengeance,? on the right blade. If one has a chance to look over the blades carefully, one might also note the verses carved into the handle, though they are almost worn away.

He travels light, save for these weapons, carrying a small military grade canteen and, most of the time, dried and salted meat, mixed with dehydrated berries. He also carries a small medical kit with basic supplies such as alcohol, bandages and blood clot.

Skills: If someone was to label Weltschmerz as anything, it would be a survivor. Having lived most of his life on the road or hired out to various governments and agencies, the fact that he has even lived to be 67 has been noted by multiple merch organizations interested in contracting him. He is very skilled with the blades at his side, competent with a fire arm if need be and out of combat, he is known for being a skilled medic and cook.

Personality: A man with a smile for everyone. Being a man of God means that, at least to those who don?t know him, he?s a friendly man who acts like the near 70 year old that he is, rather than the young man he looks like. Prone to introspection, his smile is what people see most of the time, as he?s commonly lost in thought. That said though, he still finds a way to enjoy bounty hunting, despite its less than moral implications on his conscious. The smile never leaves his face, even as he captures or ends life in the name of a credit.

Homeworld: Loch?run, the second moon of Yurth, a massive gas giant, was one of the first terran locations to be terraformed. Needless to say, they didn?t do a good job of it and didn?t bother to fix it once they realized what they had done. The first stage of creating the new Loch?run was to install an artificial axis rotation. With methods unknown to current populations on the moon; the Complex Rotator was installed. While one would assume that the axis was once at normal North and South polar dimensions, Loch?run now has a horizontal axis rotation. The reasons for this are unknown. Extreme weather changes are common on the moon as its parent planet carries it on an orbit around the Red Giant that is its sun.

The seasons are unusually long, due to its slow rotation around Yurth and Yurth?s even slower rotation around the Sun. As such, one defined season can last generations, and current history even implies that Loch?run has yet to even have one recorded ?year? since the SY system began. Right now the season is summer, in what would be called the Eastern half of the moon, and winter on the Western half. Due to the axis tilt however, they are now called the North and South halves respectively for convenience.

The moon is relatively small, its surface area less than 1 000 000 square kilometres and has a small population to match that. It is estimated that less than 500 000 people live permanently on the moon. Due to the rapid changing seasonal weathers, combined with the abnormally long seasons means that wildlife migrates between the two halves of the moon en mass, with the human population following. Thus much of what could be called society on Loch?run could be called nomadic, shifting from two major cities on either side of the moon. Much of the surface is either tundra or dessert with two scattered water bodies. Beside these two are where the cities Loch and Run are located.
 

booksv2

New member
Aug 17, 2012
632
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Name: Juruzli Dhuafrlo, Nickname; Airm

Age: 112

Gender: Male

Appearance: Tall(6'8") hulking man with overly broad shoulders and arms which end at the elbow and continue with cybernetic arms. Skin rough and dark brown, over thick muscles that ripple under his skin all over his body. His head clean of any hair, including his eyebrows. bright green eyes and a thick stubby nose over a wide mouth.
His boots are thick leather which tie up to the middle of his calves. The pants and vest he wears more modern they are thin heat, cold and electricity proof wear that don't hold onto himself to hard and don't catch on plants in the wild or metals in a ship. A sleeveless brown vest with several pockets inside and out. A large metal flask sits on his belt. His upper arms dark brown and thick the cybernetic arms don't disappoint in their thickness and heft, the outside from elbow to wrist covered in a dull grey-copper color where as the hands themselves are a more silvery color.
Augments:
Cybernetic;
From the elbow down on both arms is a cybernetic replacement with several extra features added at Airms request. On top of an extra large battery set inside the arm the knuckles are spiked slightly and when activated act much like a high powered tazer. An 18 inch blade is held in the arm itself under the outside but along the entire length and can be extended and locked into place when activated, this blade is made out of spaceship material and sharpened as far as it is possible. The outside is sheathed in an armor so he can electrify it.
Biochemical;
Bones and muscles are both enhanced to roughly 1.9X's normal humans. Twitch and natural reflexes are both enhanced to 1.9X's normal humans. Skin thickened to roughly what boar hide would be, hard to get a normal knife into and absorbing punch's and kicks easily.

Equipment:
2 cybernetic arms starting from his elbows. Both have small studs on the knuckles and they can be used as tazer fists, they both also have 18 inch blades made from spaceship material that slide out and lock above the hands. Extra large battery's in both arms. The outside edge is an allow that gives the hardness of spaceship armor and the conductivity of copper, when he uses them to block metal weapons he can electrify them.
Brown vest that has 4 pockets on the outside, 2 pockets for his hands and 2 breast pockets. Fire, Cold, Electricity resistant.
Pack holding one change of clothes and a roll of knives and other cooking utensils, one deep pan and a lid.

Skills/Specialization:
Specializing in tracking and neutralizing targets.
Skills are tracking, hand-to-hand fighting and he is a better than average cook.
Able to track through a planets atmosphere or, with the right equipment, someone through space. His cooking talents are better than the average person you'll find on the street, if lower than professional cooks.

Personality: He has a straightforward attitude, not noticing small slights and the obvious ones he responds in kind either with straightforward remark about something about them or, if its warranted, a resounding punch. People around him he leaves alone, doesn't trust or un-trust. Friends he will help to hell and back, as well as hunting any enemy's down until they are dead and burned.

Homeworld: Brimronek- Independent world within the western frontier it was originally a prison world with the criminals on the southern most continent and several city's for guards and family's in the more northern continents, this was a very long time ago. Now there's 3 large city's and several smaller ones spread across the whole of the world.
Large forests cover the world and several hundred different types of dangerous animals and plants are inside. The smaller city's all work to keep they forests back from around themselves and send groups of people out into the forest to keep the population of the larger and more dangerous animals down.
Main export from this world would be men, their training living in this overly dangerous world making them great at fighting and tracking, not many leaving the world but those that do make an impact in far away worlds. The secondary is an incredibly strong alcohol, it being some of the most powerful sold in several dozen light-years.
 

EnigmaticSevens

New member
Sep 18, 2009
265
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0
Name: Preacher Three

"The Preachers are the primary emissaries of the Shahai Caliphate to the varied and multiplex nation-states of the Western Frontier. They serve as ambassadors, messengers, priests, and at times... instigators and propagandists. The term 'Preacher' is both title and primary designation, as they allow themselves no other name save their numeric descriptors, male and female alike. They are the main link between Shahai converts on the worlds of the Frontier and the Caliphate's home system. As the majority of these converts seem to spring from the disgruntled and discontent portions of any given planetary population, the Preachers have had questionable dealings with many sectarian political splinter groups and known terrorist organizations. While those Preachers with sizable, planet-bound congregations tend to focus on the needs of their flock, they will seize secular power should the mandate present itself and the laity press the issue. Any territory so controlled by a Preacher becomes the de jure sovereign demense of the Caliphate. This has only occurred once on a planetary scale, and nearly provoked a war.

In spite of the political tension at times caused by the presence of a Preacher, many have proven perfectly obliging towards secular authorities and several large pockets of Shahai converts are scattered throughout the more civilized major metropolitan areas of the Western Frontier. The Faith has become a nearly ubiquitous sight, even if it is not always readily accepted. As the role of the Preacher is first and foremost evangelical, they consider this a sign of success. There are never more than 100 Preachers, and the title and status may be rescinded or transferred (though never outside the bounds of the Caliphate). A Preacher's flock may vary in size from a few hundred in one village on one planetary backwater, to several million spread across a number of systems, and they delegate as needed.

It should be noted that only Preachers with the designations 11 to 100 fit the above descriptions. The Preachers 1 through 10 are referred to only as the Firstborn, and their role outside of the Caliphate is unknown. Encounters with these 'Firstborn' are rare at best, as they only seem to manifest around or within points of potentially system-wide conflict or instability."

Catholic Encyclopedia, ed. 17


Age: Unknown. All Preachers appear to be in their early to mid-twenties and Three is no exception. The bodies of Preachers are so riddled with biochemical and genetic adaptations that they don't so much age as they do... mentally drift, as they near retirement.

Gender: Male

Appearance: Save for the eyes, Preacher Three appears to be little more than a mildly attractive if utterly forgettable young man. He keeps his mop of golden brown hair cut short, if a touch unruly. Most of Preacher Three's appearance seems almost specifically constructed to produce the visage of someone slightly naive, youthful, and immature, from the slight ruddiness that peaks out from beneath light, honey colored skin, to the dimples set in a face already full of soft angles. Three is a relatively small man, standing at only about 5?7? and possessing a slight frame. The image is one of carefully cultivated helplessness and non-importance. It is easy to forget that Three is in a room when one isn't actively engaged with him.

Such ready dismissal could very well prove fatal, and the eyes are a reminder of that simple fact.

The Faithful call them the eyes of the Sarfa, the eyes of the abyss. To know the love of God, one must know its opposite. To know the point farthest from that love is to know the infinity of the void, the emptiness that tears apart the soul. Shahai practitioners claim that the righteous have nothing to fear from such eyes, but that the wicked will taste of the fruit of Hell. Theological banter aside, most citizens of the Western Frontier find a Preacher's eyes unnerving. They are black entire, black as ink, black as the big empty at the edge of known space, and at times they seem to swirl and pulse with strange currents. In truth, the odd coloration is merely a sign of biological modification. Three keeps a pair of large contacts designed to cover iris and sclera, in case a certain situation require a measure of discretion.

In most instances, Three wears the traditional vestments of his station: trousers, simple boots, and a black cassock with bronze detail, buttoned along the right lapel and bound with a black sash embroidered with intricate designs in bronze thread. Of course, the day may require tattered combat armor, or dirty rags, or something made of leather with a profusion of buckles, Three remains flexible, aware that the day's attire rarely matters, only the attention it attracts or does not attract.

Augments: "Almighty is God and blessed are his works. Highest of these is man, and within man lies Perfecta Portentus, the potential to enter into the Holy Presence. In the beginning, the Lord put before man the two-fold path unto his Glory. To pass through the first path, the flesh must be forsaken, as only the soul may proceed. This is the Tahaddi Al-Burhan, the road of mirrors, and along it is the Heaven and the Hell a man makes for himself. The second path is the yoke of the righteous man, the noble aspiration, the ever forward work of bringing the perfection of the flesh to bear through the power of the mind. This is the Sakar Nabwy, the road of light, the union of flesh and the soul, the spark of life within made manifest, that the Holy Presence may be known without the taste of death.

Blessed are the walkers of the two-fold path, for they are the Faithful and to God they belong. God will shepherd them and guide the way in which they tread. But be wary, beloved, of the straying from the way and the fall into Sarfa. Those that stray have succumbed to the corruption of pride. In their vanity to quicken the way, they have cheapened it, and are thus abandoned. Accursed is the union of the living with the non-living, the union of flesh and steel and stone and ink. Hyam hyam sha'whaadi. Hurry, fallen children, back onto the path."

~ 1st Epoch 3:1-7, Lexicon (Holy Book of the Shahai Faith)

Commentaries on the Lexicon, Alver Magnus of Selk V: ?This is the most commonly referenced portion of the Lexicon as regards the Shahai aversion to cybernetics. Shahai faithful view the modification of the body by inorganic means, to any extent, as abhorrent: from extensive cybernetics to traditional tattoos. It should of course be noted that just as the religious proscription against cybernetics runs throughout the entirety of Shahai culture, so does the call to 'improve' the body via biochemical and genetic means. The 'Perfecta Portentus' encompasses the idea that humanity was created with the potential to ascend to a higher state of being, and that this ascension occurs by applying the intellect to the enhancement of the flesh. To date, the Shahai are the foremost producers of biochemical upgrades, cloned and modified organs and tissues, and retroviral therapies and enhancers. Their innovations in the fields of biochemistry, biotechnology, and microbiology form the backbone of the Caliphate's economy. Additionally, they make no attempts to hide what is very clearly a sort of nationalized eugenics program, still a subject of much debate among scholars of ethics. Regardless of the nightmares such wanton abandon towards the limits of human modification may breed, it must be noted that citizens of the Caliphate have distinctly longer life spans than most citizens of advanced Frontier planets."


~~~~

"Varly, this is a glorious opportunity! Long have I suspected the treasures that hide in the flesh of these lunatic 'Preachers,' and long have I been scorned! But with this, my hypotheses are vindicated! It has been observed that a Preacher's flesh decays within seconds of death, until nothing but so many handfuls of dust remain. It has made any potential study absolutely infuriating to conduct, but I have solved the problem! It took some plotting, a great deal of credits, and a great deal of dumb, mercenary muscle, but I finally lured one of those insipid zealots to a location of MY choosing! Some place suitably frigid enough to inhibit the enzymatic activity I suspected was responsible for the defense mechanism. Let us simply say that a very strange woman suffered an unfortunate accident, and I would've been remiss in my duties as a medical professional if I hadn't conducted a full autopsy.

Here is a summary of my initial findings: Cutting through the woman's flesh required use of a vibrating scalpel to penetrate the second and third dermal layers of the skin. The tissue samples all revealed the same complex, carbohydrate lattice structure that makes up the bioweave so popular among mercenaries for its capacity at stopping small arms fire and basic cutting implements. Beneath the flesh lies something even more remarkable. While the base structure of a typical human nervous system is readily discernible enough, there seems to be a profusion of excess nerve tissue and ganglia, almost insectoid in layout. The muscle tissue and bone composition are all somewhat denser than the norm, and the large intestine is a great deal longer than usual. The appendix is radically different from stock humanity, and appears to be connected to a half dozen small bladders and organs that I cannot quite identify. The appendix itself is multi-chambered and seems to contain a number of precursor chemicals, some relatively benign and others highly toxic. I suppose some sort of autonomic control system could've been used but I can find no microprocessors or other evidence of cybernetic wetware.

The blood samples I've taken all decay rapidly when not preserved at sub-zero temperatures, and that has made analysis difficult, but even my feeble stumblings have uncovered exciting findings. At first I thought I was looking at some sort of cancerous cell or overlarge organelle, but further inspection reveals the presence of an almost mechanical structure comprised entirely of nucleic acids in a lipid sheath. I think it's some sort of virus or retrovirus, but I can't fathom what it does, as it performs both gross mechanical functions and protein translation at some level or another. I can't wait to see what you make of the samples I've sent you, Varly!

Alas, I could make no examination of the brain. I told that damn fool Leppish to perform the 'deed' with the paralytic I'd provided, but that blustery idiot claims his close quarters teams were killed down to a man. That ignorant savage damn near had this woman's head blown off by sniper fire. Excessive, and above all else, wasteful! No matter, what was schemed up once can be schemed again, and once we begin to publish these findings, we'll have no lack of credits! I can promise you that, Varly old boy!"

- Intercepted Communique between Dr. Tesh Esagi (deceased) and Dr. Varly Ommsen (deceased) of Gorrinth, concerning the murder of Shayla Ibyn Arrai, formerly Preacher Twenty Six. Sealed and CLASSIFIED under the Authority of the Caliphate. Wahad sha za er Allah - assad Shahai. With great speed and unrelenting fury, God avenges the Faithful.


Equipment: ?Haven?t you ever noticed dem preachers only wears one glove? Ain't you never wondered about it? Bet you jus thought it was some more holy hoodoo, eh, dem preachers love der hoodoo after all. Well I knows you won't believe me, but I gots me a look at one! That preacher pup, him whats we call Roe cuz he won't damn call himself nuthin' but some number. Well he lets me have a look at it, said it was troublin' him and he knows I'm the best fixit man hearabouts. Well I peels back dat fancy black leather and would ya believe it! Things got more twisty bits than a console! S'meant to take in and put out a helluva lot a current. Shit, sent my boy Seaan halfway cross the room, and we thought the thing was drained. So I asked the preacher 'bout it, and he tells me it's 'Gevurah', the left hand a God hisself. Can't say much about that, but I'll tells you dis, get enough juice in it, and you could probably put out a zap big enough to turn a smart mouth sonuvabitch extra crispy! Though I 'spect preachers are a mite too gentle for that, probably just use it to give a man a little tap and put him to sleep iffin he gets rowdy in the pews. Damn waste, I says."

- A conversation between Uri Hoss, a mechanic, and his brother Fellew Hoss, of Trensit


Skills/Specialization: Three is first and foremost a Preacher of the Faith, and would love to serve primarily as the Blackheart's Chaplain, fully qualified to perform last rites, wedding ceremonies, and attend to the spiritual needs of hardened, calloused mercenaries! Fully equipped to ease pains both the flesh and the spirit, capable of serving as a medic of intermediate skill, and knowledgeable in the maintenance and upkeep of several biological augmentations. Of course, if you aren't the praying sort, Three has a few other skills that might prove useful....

"Great fuckin' Budallah on a cracker! Shit man, I don't even know where to start! I ain't even sure this is real, man, you know? I mean I get it, right, this is payday and I'm the goddamn check, I get that much... it's just the gettin' here, you know? I never saw it comin', not from no damn Preacher, leastways.... I mean everyone knows the stories, stuff about them meditatin' half the damn day spendin' an hour just movin' their damn little toe and nothin' else or some shit. But it's bullshit, right? I mean... it's supposed to be. But fuck man... what I saw, that weren't bull. If I'd a known sittin' cross-legged with your eyes closed 'd let you do that... shit I'd a given it a go.

I mean we only let the creepy little dead eyed fucker in cuz some a the guys were funny about the holy roller types, superstitious 'n whatnot. But then he walks right up into my office, bold as yak shit, sayin' he's come to collect my bounty, says it right to my face, me with three a my top boys in the room. Course we had a good laugh, and Tep had his shotty out faster than you can wink, both barrels right in the little uppity fuck's face. Tep never did beat around the bush much, and I'd seen this story a hundred times, and it's supposed to end with some fool's brains all over the wall. That's what's supposed ta happen, it always does, every time... just... just not this time. I mean there was a pop sure enough, but not a gunshot. Come to think of it, musta been the sound a the toe a that Preacher's boot hittin' Tep's temple... ain't never seen a dent in a fella's head quite like that. Tep ain't even hit the ground but this fuckin' psycho's got hold a his shotgun and fed my man Vish both barrels, Vish who could draw on a man 'fore you could drop a penny, and he's gone... gone just like that. But it don't stop... it never stopped, Preacher just kept on, broke the shotty over the back a Quar's knees, sent that fat ass head over heels and brought him down on his neck. Three a my boys, three a my best, just fuckin' iced 'em, and get this, I ain't even half way out my goddamn chair. It don't make sense, man... I seen fast, I am fast, I seen boys hopped up on reflex amps and just blazin' away. This weren't that.... It won't just fast it was... it was like gravity man, it was fuckin' planets 'round the sun, stuff like that, like shit just was, like he'd put his boot through Tep's temple 'fore he walked through the goddamn door, like it was meant to be...."

- 1st Intake Interview of Prisoner #558 Lotter Flask, Cerrick Penal Colony, 78,000 credit bounty collected by a 'Preacher Forty Seven'


The Shahai have a saying, that when God ordains a man to die in a place, He directs his steps to lead him to that place unerringly. For Preacher Three, the old equation is much simpler. When God ordains that a man should die by a Preacher's hand, that man develops a cantankerous disposition and finds himself within about a five foot radius....

Negotiation, Infiltration, Assassination, and the Salvation of One's Immortal Soul. Three aims to be helpful.

Personality: Everyone expects piety of a Preacher, and in truth, Three is a deeply spiritual man, but he would not call himself pious. He feels that in the minds of many, piety too often walks hand in hand with a sense of judgement and Three does not feel it is his place to judge. There is something deeply furtive in Three's nature, a natural introversion that almost seems to contradict itself. There are times when Three requires moments to himself, moments of quiet and calm and inward searching, but at the same time, he is not one to shun company. Three draws people in, draws them in with calm and quiet words, an intensely gentle disposition, and a patient, total focus. Three listens, truly listens, a skill most people do not possess. He listens, and he cares. It has never been a thing he's had to feign because that kindness is an intrinsic part of his manner, all bound up in a deep desire to understand and attend to other individuals. True empathy knows both the saint and the sinner. Three has his own desires, that much is true of any man, but Three knows that he is the eternal servant, and that his desires are at all times the least important in the room.

Three is a pool of water tucked away in the depths of a mountain. The pool's waters are cool and offer much refreshment, and there is a timeless quality within its depths. Strike the pool with great anger, and the waters may ripple, but all returns to stillness and the pool remains unchanged. Sully the waters and they may cloud for a time, but all impurities settle and are leached away by the stones, and the pool remains unchanged. The nature of the pool is the nature of faith, of devotion. Three's commitment to the ideals of his faith run deep, but he is not a zealot. He has gone beyond that place, gone to the far side of fanaticism and come out the other end, rational, but odd. A certain oddity must exist in a creature who can snap a man's neck and shed a tear for him before his body hits the ground.

Homeworld: Shamba

"Shamba is the Great Jewel, the Heart of the Caliphate and the First World to know the Faith. Ayin - Allah wa yahat usul Shahai. Blessed is the land God set aside for his People.

In my travels throughout the worlds of the Western Frontier, I have seen many wonders, strange and terrible planets. Yet even though I journey long and far, never have I found the magic that lingers on every breeze in Shamba. A garden world, man was made for my land, made to fit it like the key that slides into a lock. No sweat or toil was needed to make Shamba a fit place for humans to live. Shamba's seasons are mild, its terrain mostly composed of temperate grasslands and forests, with dense tropics around the equatorial belt and the stinging bite of great chill only near the extremes of the poles. Only one, great, true continent rises from Shamba's violet seas, the only other land a series of smaller island chains, but it is flush with life and beauty. Our ancestors found Babyl, a distant star far from their original home, a place of new beginnings. They came and tamed the ecosystem as was proper, carving out their human niche, and carefully structuring the rest around it. Our flora and fauna is therefore a mixture of surprising diversity, noted to possess many non-native species. With a climate similar to the Earth of days long past, life thrives upon the surface of Shamba and teems within its seas.

In the ancient days, it is said that Shamba was known as place of great learning, a haven for man, a place where many streamed to contemplate the deep things of the spirit without fear of persecution and the grand inquires of scientific study without the specter of regulation. In truth, I do not know much, most of the Faithful find ruminations on our most ancient origins largely pointless. The past holds value only in how it provides the frame of the present and the suggestion of the future. To this end, our most relevant history is dated shortly before the time of Silence, what most know as the Great Divide. Some hundred years before the Great Divide, a holy union occurred on Shamba, the voices of a hundred religious philosophies in one moment, spoke as one. That moment, fleeting as it was, gave birth to understanding, and such understanding, laid the foundations of the Faith. As the Faith took hold, it began to embrace the scientific inquiry that drove the many research facilities that populated the planet. This marks the first year by the Shahai (T.F) standard.

When the time of Silence came, it was seen by many as a sign of great change, of a blessing. Sundered as we were from the old and unenlightened world, we could embrace the ideals of a new future. By this time, eight worlds of the Babyl system had been colonized by men, yet the Faith held the mandate of only Shamba and this was not proper. While rich in life and rich in thought, Shamba's mineral wealth was limited. We did not have the resources to produce vasts fleets of warships akin to those belonging to our neighbors. Nevertheless, we were the beloved of God, and we held the Mandate of Heaven. Jihad was inevitable.

We call it now the 'Twelve Day Crusade.' It was the first time in our history when the Council of Cardinals on Shamba divined the presence of a Kalki Caliph a great leader to guide us in righteous war. This man was Yo-sef M'Tagar, and by his wisdom, the seven worlds of the Babyl Star bent knee to the will of the Caliphate. While it was true, that we could not match our foe in a battle of great violence, Yo-sef discerned another truth. Our foe was in fact our brother, and the way to turn a brother's heart was not to bring a blade to bear. While only Shamba in the beginning, allotted the Faith the Mandate as was proper, the people of these other worlds sprung from Shamba first and foremost, and they held to the Faith. It only remained for Yo-sef to convince them of the Faith's Mandate, its divine right to rule of law, and one by one, the worlds submitted, with no bloodshed save for some few, minor skirmishes.

And so I sing you the tale of the Caliphate's birth. In the time of Whispers, also called the Rebirth, the Caliphate discovered a universe much larger than expected, and much stranger. Nevertheless, the Caliphate knows an order that these other diverse worlds of the Western Frontier barely fathom, and there is strength in such order. Already the Faith spreads far beyond the reach of the Babyl star, and you, beloved barbarians, are beginning to learn. On some morning, either near or far, the suns of a million worlds will shine on a universe united by the Faith. Blessed are you who see that day first hand. This is the promise of Shamba.

As I said, in Shamba there is magic on the breeze, but I do not know if I could describe such magic to you whose eyes are closed. How can you know the beauty of the music that flows through the streets of Sagry, from the voices of the choirs to the wails of the rebabs? How can you know the tender agony of the kasut, the flowing dance of the temple harlot? How can you know the beauty of the silver spires of Canter, where the greatest minds bring us closer and closer to blessed union with God by plying the magic of the flesh? How can you, who allow your brothers and sisters to toil in squalor and filth, imagine worlds where no soul begs for bread, where even the smallest child is healthy, bright, and full of potential. Your Barbarous leaders fear the coming change, but know that change will come, and with it come the Glory and Blessing of God."

Final Chapter of 'The Million Planets' the Collected Writings of Wasyr Ibyn Grashie, former Grand Imam under Preacher Sixty Two, current Professor of Anthropology at the University of Shinze, Shahai Caliphate.

Excerpt of the Analysis of Grashie's 'The Million Planets' by Dr. Arang Pilar, Professor of Anthropology at the University of Gorrinth: "There are some fine insights into the state of affairs of a great many planets and systems of the Western Frontier to be found in Grashie's text. Yet as valuable as those insights might be, that well known pedant undermines any sense of objectivity with that insipid little 'farewell' chapter, an obvious last minute insertion on the part of the Caliphate's Ministry of Culture. For that matter, the very lack of any attempt at a through analysis of the worlds of the Babyl system is such a glaring oversight, that one wonders if such a text were indeed written and excised after the fact. There are tell tale signs throughout the text that point to such: dangling references, unsupported assertions, etc. Simple errors that a scholar of Grashie's caliber would not miss.

It is therefore with great caution that one includes 'The Million Planets' in any analysis of Shahai culture. While the wonders of Shamba described within have been documented to an extent, what is one to make of the many omissions? How can one mention a lack of poverty within the Caliphate without also examining the legality of slavery within Caliphate territory, heavily regulated as it may be. How can one mention the strength of Shamba's history without broaching the topic of the world's extensive legacy of selective breeding, not to mention the mandatory gene therapies? How can one mention the Council of Cardinals without further examining the implications of a theocratic oligarchy and the ever present yoke of a deeply entrenched religious bureaucracy? 'The Million Planets' suffers the stigma of all first person accounts of the Caliphate. Can one trust the insights of citizens produced by a State that has elevated social engineering and entangling philosophy into a sort of art?"


Notes: "Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Love never fails, and love ordaineth when a man must live, and when he must die." - Keter 13:7,8 , Lexicon (Holy Book of the Shahai Faith)
 

Nukey

Elite Member
Apr 24, 2009
4,125
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41
Alright, everyone, I'm very impressed with all the sheets. I'm going to delay final revisions/new sheets until tomorrow once I have enough time to start judging them. I'm still not sure how many people I'll be able to accommodate, so don't be upset if you don't happen to make the initial cut.
 
Aug 12, 2009
7,887
0
0
Finally finished.
Name: Ctar Ricceq

Age: 27

Gender: Male

Appearance: Ctar is a man of monstrous height and width. He stands at 7'7'' and weighs 611 lbs, the result of extensive and brutal biochemical augmentation. This is obvious from his structure and stance; Ctar is disproportionate to a disturbing degree, with his hands reaching his knees and his legs being slightly longer than his spine. He is hairless and covered in a thin layer of sweat constantly. His features are stretched back, his eyes deformed into piggy voids, asymmetric and ugly. He is without lips, revealing his grotesque and frightening front row of teeth, four large canines where his incisors should be. His nose is also absent, instead he possesses a jagged stump with two scarred slits.

His chest is roughly forty-two inches. Due to his unusual proportions and his height Ctar is unable to find clothes that fit him. As such he covers up with a large pullover robe, cut off slightly below the knees and slightly above the elbows. He prefers to keep the hood up, as many people are frightened or disgusted by his face. The cloak is a patchwork, consisting primarily of browns and greens, with rare blacks and whites. When allowed, Ctar prefers to wear his full face respirator, for both hiding his face and protecting again unexpected gas attacks.

Augments: Ctar has been pumped full of growth hormones and had his thyroid and pituitary glands functions modified in such a way that, until he stopped receiving his treatments, he was regularly growing larger and more disfigured. Another modification taken is that Ctar now has a system of digestion similar to owls; he will swallow certain items whole and later vomit the indigestible materials back up in the form of hard pellets. His metabolism is also constantly breaking down and creating the energy required to sustain his frame without external power and certain trigger points have been built over his body so he may have an "adrenaline surge" for a sudden but destructive burst of strength. Overall his augments have led to great strength, ability to eat near anything biological and intense aggression.

Equipment: Ctar's hands are too big for conventional guns and melee weapons, and he prefers the use of his own strength and abilities, in the form of combat cannibalism and a beating men to dead with his bare hands. He is known to keep a field surgery kit strapped underneath his robe in case an ally has experience as a combat medic and can fix up the numerous wounds that arise from his aggressive style of attack.

Skills/Specialization: Ctar is specialized as a bruiser. He cannot do much in the way of tech or medical, but he does know where to punch a man in a way he'll be gasping for breath and disarmed for long enough to be bagged and tagged, or how much force he'd need to exert to tear a man's arm off. Ctar is a breed of bruiser that takes their craft very seriously.

Personality: Ctar is often quiet and nervous. He is never sure what to say or how to interact with other people and so prefers others do the talking for him. The only time Ctar is truly in his element is when he's put into a combat situation. He is acutely aware of the face other people find him repulsive and so is often aggressively self conscious, often times averting his eyes from anybody who speaks with him so as not to frighten them with his blank stare. Attempts to get Ctar to talk more will be met with hostility; Ctar is uncomfortable with existing, and feels uncomfortable with people who seem like they are "supposed" to exist.

Ctar is deeply distrusting of anybody with a criminal background and has a deeply rooted dislike for active gangers and mobsters in particular. His methods tend to step up in brutality when these people are involved and is less likely to non-lethally subdue them. Ctar also has a deep dislike for police officers, with the only individuals he idolises or respects being the bounty hunters. He is interested greatly in what drives others to adopt the path he has taken.

Ctar places a lot of value in willpower and ability to ignore or carry on through pain. He takes being able to tolerate an intolerable situation as being a high quality and has little patience for people who complain or show too outwardly the pain they are feeling, unless the display is one of murderous rage. To Ctar, ability to endure, contain and maintain is a chief virtue.

Homeworld: Ctar grew up on Trenga X, a vice planet. Due to the planet being the middle of an ice age and being unworthy of terraforming, instead efforts were put into burrowing closer to the core to supply the power for the colony and warmth for the peoples. The deep winding tunnels, unnavigable design and large amount of vents and rooms has meant that the tunnel colony of Trenga has been abandoned to a place of lawlessness and terrible things. Gangers run prostitution and drug rings out of the depths and control their own areas in the tunnels, each with their own degrees of power and morality.

Vice worlds such as Trenga X are often prime hunting grounds for bounty hunters. Police are too afraid and thin spread to go anywhere near them. Oftentimes if a person is liberated from a life they are not enjoying, especially on Trenga X, it is by the hand of a bounty hunter or bounty hunters who have descended looking for a target. As such, many of the children born on Trenga X idolise the bounty hunters as heroes and law bringers, striking down criminals who do evil.

Trenga X primary export is the helium found in large deposits beneath the ground and in the blood-freezingly cold above ground. Those that do eke out a legitimate living work as helium miners and movers. Often the premise of a helium company is used by criminals to hide their rackets for inhalant narcotics, so occasionally even perfectly innocent people will be mistaken for rival gangs and gunned down in disputes.

Due to the difficulty of life on Trenga X, many gangs build up paramilitary organisations or build up task forces of specially augmented individuals. Due to the demand and the lawlessness of the place, Trenga X is one of the top places in the Western Frontier to go for bio-augments and cybernetic-augments of a far less than legal nature, if you have the cash.

Notes: Possessed of monstrous hunger, will often eat opponents during/after fights. Finds it hard to control said urges.
 

ThreeWords

New member
Feb 27, 2009
5,179
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0
Not so fast! I also have a sheet to submit!

Name: Laertes Ingroment

Age: 22

Gender: Male

Appearance: Laertes' hair is a mess of dark curls above an pale complexion; pale blue eyes glint above high cheekbones and a sharp nose. A sardonic slash of mouth adds to an overall harshness of face, softened only slightly by his generous lips. He wears simple clothes, often covered with an oil-stained overall, along with by a tool belt to carry whatever equipment he might need. Around his neck he wears goggles to protect his from the glare of his ministrations, and often wears heavy gloves to protect his hands, though they already sport the scars of many cuts and burns.

Augments: Laertes' left hand has been replaced with what can only loosely be called an artificial hand. Beginning at his wrist, eight many-jointed limbs spread out like a mechanical octopus, each capable of acting either like a bizarre set of fingers to grab, press or otherwise interact with the environment, or to deploy one of the basic tools built into the hands form. These range from cutting devices to automatic screwdrivers and a spool of spare wiring.
Otherwise, Laertes allows himself no other augmentations; should the technological devices of the crew come under attack, he is determined to not to rely on the very devices he will have to repair.

Equipment: Laertes carries a single revolver, kept in meticulous condition but rarely used, for he has neither the desire nor the skill for an actual fire-fight. Alongside this, he carries a a variety of spare parts and tools too big to be built into his mechanical hand, including his welding tool and trusty wrench.

Skills/Specialisation: Laertes is, first and foremost, a mechanic. He is skilled in the repair and even construction of almost all systems used by a crew such as the Blackhearts. He is little use as a fighter, but has enough nerve to make combat repairs. He is a reasonable pilot and has some practical knowledge of computers, though he is not much of a hacker.
His mechanical skills have a second application: he is skilled at disabling or evading security systems, which makes him an excellent thief. This, combined with his quick wit and daring nerve make him suited to subterfuge missions.

Personality: Laertes is a clever man, but this often leads to him being a bored man. He is a habitual gambler, willing to make a wager on any subject, and he leads life with a degree of recklessness, as if taking a dare against the universe at large. He is sarcastic, hedonistic and amoral, and these traits make him objectionable to many, but to those who accept him he is surprisingly loyal. His temper is remarkably cool; he is rarely given to any show of extreme emotion.

Homeworld: Laertes hails from the world of Tarios, which was once a central hub of the Western Front. Historians theorise that the planet was a capital of some description, for more than 70 percent of the planet was, at one point, one continuous city. It was supported entirely by off-world imports, and suffered terribly in the aftermath of the Great Divide. Starvation did more damage then the civil upheaval, and the population fell to less than 5% it?s former size.

Nowadays, Tarios is bizarre sight. Much of the planets surface is still covered with a ruined urban sprawl, and the planets population now live in various Hives, each containing millions of people. The Hives are huge towers, reaching up into the atmosphere and with each level a city in it's own right. In these hives there are the collected treasures of Old Tarios; marvels of industry, miraculous hydroponic systems, sumptuous palace-levels and cramped, desolate warrens for the poor.

On Tarios, there is a vast gulf between the rich and the poor, sourcing from the control of the Hives' systems. The poor are must acquire permission for every action in their miserable lives, weighed down by a bureaucracy that controls every aspect of their lives. For the affluent, Tarios is like heaven itself; the Hives and their systems are built form pre-Divide technology, and even if the masters of Tarios don?t know exactly how it works, that doesn?t stop them from using what they can to their advantage. For the underclasses, however, Tarios is a permanent Tartarus of cramped spaces wherein the strong stamp on the weak to grasp what little there is worth having.