Terraform | The Lightbearers

[Elle Joyner]

the lightbearers

HEROES FROM BEYOND

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"We have watched for many years... and seen many faults in mankind. But so too have we seen much that is good. We will stand with you... We will fight for you... and together, we will take back the galaxy."

It is the year 3280 - over two hundred years since Kalazar was overthrown and the Cult of Invariance took over the Galactic Coalition territories. For too long, the galaxy has suffered under the reign of the Cult, which grows stronger and more volatile by the day. The Rebel War began and ended with spectacular efforts, but the revolution has been crushed, the oppressive force of the Cult too much to contend with. Many banded together to try and stop them, but with very little success. Millions have fallen... entire systems and cultures blotted out among the stars, and hope, it seems, is as dark and void as space, itself. Things seemed bleak, and those few who remain from the resistance have been sent into hiding.
But hope has come in the strangest of ways. A message from a mysterious planet... Help is Coming. Repeating over and over, through the galaxy. Hope is Coming. And this message rings louder in some than others... a resonance that sounds from the deepest part of a person, within the very soul. These are the Lightbearers. These are the few, chosen to withstand the Cult and take back the galaxy...
Deep in space, at the heart of a distant planet thought to have died, an ancient race rises again, to come to the aid of the Universe. The Lightbearers descend to select their Champions. War is coming again... and this time, the allies are not alone.

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OOC DETAILS​

This roleplay takes place within the Uprising timeline - You will play a Champion - a member of the Lightbearer Brigade, chosen by this mysterious force to lead the galaxy to freedom. Each member of the brigade will receive a message, a beacon, which will lead them to the creature bonded to them.
These creatures, like sentient Mech robots, have scattered themselves through the galaxy - some will be easily located, some will reveal themselves and some will require a bit of convincing, but once they have all been found, these will form the army needed to take down Kalazar and restore peace to the galaxy.
You won't need to worry about designing your mech currently. This is something that will be revealed ICly.

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CHARACTER SKELETON​

NAME


AGE || Number | RACE || species | OCCUPTION | Job |

PLANET OF ORIGIN || planet name (please select from the list of allied planets existing AFTER the Cult's inception) | CURRENT LOCATION || location |​

APPEARANCE || written (also, please provide either a real FC or realistic artwork)
POSITION || Resistance/Ordinary Citizen/Reformed Kalazar-Supporter
BIO || brief history - (No more than 500 words)
TRAITS || Character strengths and weaknesses (these will factor in to what mech they receive and their position on the team)
TOKEN || This is the item which will eventually be used to connect them to their mech - should be something with meaning.

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Code for Copy

[right][b][u]CHARACTER SKELETON[/u][/b][/right]
[Center][img]http://via.placeholder.com/300x400[/img]

[size=7]NAME[/size]

[size=3][b]AGE[/b] || Number | [b]RACE[/b] || species | [b]OCCUPTION[/b] | Job |
[b]PLANET OF ORIGIN[/b] || planet name (please select from the list of allied planets existing AFTER the Cult's inception) | [b]CURRENT LOCATION[/b] || location |
[/size][/center]

[b]APPEARANCE[/b] || written (also, please provide either a real FC or realistic artwork) 

[b]POSITION[/b] || Resistance/Ordinary Citizen/Reformed Kalazar-Supporter

[b] BIO[/b] || brief history - (No more than 500 words)

[b]TRAITS[/b] || Character strengths and weaknesses (these will factor in to what mech they receive and their position on the team)

[b]TOKEN[/b] || This is the item which will eventually be used to connect them to their mech - should be something with meaning.

[hr=border:2px solid #FFED02][/hr][div=max-width: 400px !important; right: -453px;][hr=border:2px solid #000000][/hr][/div][div=max-width: 300px !important; right: -553px;][hr=border:2px solid #FFED02][/hr][/div]

 

[The Wanderer]

Spoiler

Connor Quinn

AGE || 25 | RACE || Human [Cyborg] | OCCUPTION | Salvage Field Jockey |

PLANET OF ORIGIN || Neo-Earth | CURRENT LOCATION || In a salvage yard |

APPEARANCE || Standing at a solid 5'7 and weighing roughly 145 Ibs with dark brown hair, one real blue eye and one white cybernetic eye, Connor is a scrapper of sorts in appearance as he generally doesn't care about his appearance aside from styling his hair on the occasion, and is willing to wear whatever clothing items he wishes to wear.

Though on the job or when in port temporarily, he will be wearing a special environmental suit that protects him from debris in space, or from hazardous environments that salvage workers often encounter when working, and also to protect himself from collision with objects when wearing his jetpack.

Spoiler

POSITION || Ordinary Citizen

BIO || Born on Neo-Earth to a family of Irish heritage, Connor was raised a worker and taught to keep his head low and do what was necessary to get by. Be it working a janitor job or slaving away aboard maintenance in a ship or retails, whichever work he could find in his adult life. This combined with being the runt of the litter that was his siblings, he grew up a troublemaker that got into way too many fights before slowly easing into being a sarcastic smart-ass that still gets into fights, but now at least knows what he is doing.

After barely graduating from high-school, Connor signed up for military but was forced to withdrawal after an accident in the factory he was working in took his right arm, and blinding him in his left eye. Both injuries leaving him in the hospital with little hope of getting a good job or a solid career in the military. Until he got in contact with a old friend of his that hooked him up with appropriated cybernetics and a release form. The price of which was to work for his shady salvage company for a simple thirty-seventy cut.

So now for the past six years, he's been part of a salvage crew that cuts up wrecked ships, asteroids or the occasional illegal job working off his debt for his friend.

TRAITS || [+] Quick thinking, reliable, practical and resilient. [=] Casual, jokester, talkative and not really ambitious. [-] Impulsive, tunnel-vision, stubborn and harsh.

TOKEN || The pair of warped Dog Tags with two pieces of metal in them from the accident that crippled Connor, the small items stopping the now stuck metal from going to Connor's heart.

 

[KatSea]

Ailoca Ser'aazar



AGE || 28| RACE || Vela | OCCUPATION | Medic and Baker |

PLANET OF ORIGIN || Kalazar | CURRENT LOCATION || S.S. Tel Aviv |

​

APPEARANCE ||

Ailoca sports a gentle, light orange tint upon her skin that is tainted with numerous freckles upon her arms, cheeks and nose. A singular scar blemishes her temple, a thin slit of white crossing from her jaw to the top of her skull. Ailoca's lips are adorned with wrinkles from the smile she bestows to her neighbors and strangers on a daily basis, dimples one of the Vela's most defining features. Her frenzied, bright red hair is generally tied up with a light green ribbon, but curls tend to escape and blind her without effort. Her light orange horns barely poke up from her tangled curls, encompassing the majority of her skull. Her eyes are a piercing, forest green with a speckle of brown throughout. She stands at a remarkable 5'10, wearing a slightly muscular frame. Her cheeks and stomach still contain somewhat of chub, but she absolutely adores this feature and will constantly poke fun at this detail. Several deep, dark maroon marks stretch along her stomach, which Ailoca calls her beauty marks.



POSITION || Ordinary Citizen (Reformed Kalazar Supporter)



BIO || brief history -

Ailoca had been a blinding light on such a grim planet, becoming an overwhelming force for her parents the moment she was born. Ailoca had been a instinctive explorer, often times fumbling from her home and exploring the small world that greeted her beyond. She had never agreed with the harm that her planet had brought along the galaxy beyond, but could never understand hatred that she knew stemmed from foreigners. She had believed that peace came from the love of one stranger to another, and had her point proven in a particularly bizarre way. Ailoca had left her home planet of Kalazar when she had been whisked away by a group she had only referred to as "Her Angels", where she met a Kalazar rebel and the love of her life, a human by the name of Eleazar Stone.



Having spent nearly a decade with the Angels, Ailoca would eventually marry her love, and planned on starting a family with the man. However, Ailoca would lose Stone during a complete wipe out of the rebel fleet he had boarded. His body had never been recovered, and for a while Ailoca believed that he had managed to survive, but has lost hope as she had been forced to relocate to the S.S Tel Aviv. This is where she gave birth to twin boys, Eili and Kili. Ailoca has been working here since, attempting to keep her spirits high and hopeful without her life partner.



TRAITS || Motherly - By goodness, if Ailoca sees a kindred spirit, she will immediately find it within her soul to guard and guide them. Even if the individual does not find this gesture helpful or welcome, the kind young Vela insists on ensuring their well being.



Observant - While Ailoca appears to have her head in her pretty clouds, Ailoca remarkably tends to notice details that may have otherwise been missed. She will tend to notice rather random items of interest as well, and can piece together something obscure about the target before her.



Stubborn - Do not try and separate Ailoca from her goal. She will find the kindest way to tell you that you were better off wrestling an angry bull whose entire vision has gone red.



Explorer - Ailoca tends not to stay in one place for very long, cabin fever can be very common for this wandering Vela, and being lost is a daily endeavor that she is happy to be apart of.



TOKEN || A slim, golden ring that holds a light ruby stone within its clutches. A light inscription can be made out from it, two intertwined hearts that lies above the vein of her ring finger. .[/font][/div]

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[Hecatoncheires]

JUNTA GLENN

AGE || 36 | RACE || Human | OCCUPATION | Freelance Pilot |
PLANET OF ORIGIN || SS New York | CURRENT LOCATION || Klangbar Asteroid Belt |​

APPEARANCE || Possessing the narrow, towering build of one born to the vacuum of space, years of military conditioning have honed Junta into a formidable figure. She carries herself with the alert and attentive poise of a career soldier, never fully relaxing in any given situation: like a coiled spring, she seems ready to burst into action should it be required. Her hair has grown longer since she abandoned the cause, but she keeps it pulled back and swept off her face at all times. Her clothing is almost always a flight suit and jacket, and there's almost always a sidearm belted to it.

POSITION || Resistance (Formerly)

BIO || Once upon a time she was Lieutenant Glenn, callsign ALBATROSS. The bane of any Cult ships unfortunate to cross paths with her and her fellow pilots of the Rocinante Fleet. For years, she was at the forefront of the Resistance's major engagements, tearing through the skies at the head of her squadron as they took the fight to the enemy.

That all changed during the Meridiem campaign.

Months of rearguard actions and desperate last stands, watching her comrades falling one by one as the fleet was picked apart. Watching another planet fall to the Cult's advance. Months of holding it together, putting on a brave face in front of her squadron. Then it was over. The fleet was ashes. Meridiem was held in the grip of the cult.

And she was the only one left of the pilots who followed her into battle. Against an enemy she no longer believes can be defeated.

These days, she's Lieutenant Glenn no longer. She's just Albatross, the craziest and most daring of the pilots willing to brave the depths of the Klangbar Asteroid Belt. Another messed up ship jockey, so the whispers go, out here in the ass end of nowhere looking for death. Her fellow prospectors respect and fear her in equal measure. Which means that most of them actively avoid her, too. She spends her days submerged in work and whisky in equal measure, doing her best to forget about what she has lost.

But the war may not be finished with her yet...

TRAITS ||
+ Flying Ace: If it's got big-ass engines and travels through space, Junta Glenn can make it dance and weave like a leaf on the wind.
+ Resistance Veteran: Glenn has spent years actively fighting against the Cult's advance. She's a combat veteran, a skilled marksman and an experienced military leader.
- Cynical: She believed in something once, and it didn't make a damn bit of difference. So as far as she's concerned, her not believing in anything doesn't exactly matter much either.
- Weary Soldier: Junta Glenn is done with war. With the Resistance. She's endured too much already, lost too many friends to be willing to risk it again. The night terrors and flashbacks are daily reminders of everything she suffered through once before: it'll take more than impassioned speeches and appeals to heroism to bring her back to the battlefield.

TOKEN || Her dog-tags and the dog-tags of her old squadron mates, held together on a chain round her neck.

 

[Mobley Eats]

K'uinthal (Quinn-tal) "Tinka"







AGE || 27 | RACE || Meridian | OCCUPATION | Aerospace Engineer/Mechanic |

PLANET OF ORIGIN || Meridiem | CURRENT LOCATION || Neo Earth |



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APPEARANCE || Tinka sports a long and spindly frame of 6'0" even, which manages to carry lithe muscle through the means of a miracle. And years of constant tinkering. Curls weighed down with grease and sweat drape along his shoulders like a dead animal, while the rest of his person is slathered in grime and soot. Never ask of him to "fix the smell"--no amount of scrubbing could rid his skin of the rustic scent. His right eye is illuminated the traditional lime color of all Meridiem natives; however, his left eye is a strangely human deep brown and has a tendency to drift ever so slightly if he's not paying attention. Tinka has grown fond of Neo Earth's lavish way of dress, so he can be seen dirtying up a nice vest and trousers combo, even during a shift at the shop.

POSITION || Ordinary Citizen

BIO || Tinka hadn't always carried the mind of an over zealous mechanic. Born and raised in the toxic catacombs of Meridiem came with plenty of reason to maintain a sheltered life, and the looming reign of Kalazar stacked further onto the paranoia. He never stepped beyond five minutes outside of a highly secure bunker. The prison itself was composed by the steady hand his father, a well-revered mechanic who managed the upkeep of Meridiem's Gris network, particularly protecting it from the energy source's toxicity. Tinka was expected to take up his father's mantle, but the young man found himself dazzled by stories of intergalactic exploration from his elder sibling Shal'gnura. She'd been to a few planets, but her ultimate goal was Neo Earth.

"I'll lay my eyes on Neo Earth and settle down there... Someday. Just wait, Tinka."

That was what she always said. Always preached. However, the woman participated in questionable and vague endeavors, ones that inspired disappointment and distrust among the family. They weren't the only reasons for the sore feelings, but it contributed heavily. In high contrast, the siblings' bond deepened and they swore to protect the other fiercely while reaching for the stars.

Longing to escape his bunker, Tinka thwarted family expectations and joined a Drilling Team with his sister as their general mechanic. Their main objective was to salvage a precious metal from the Klangbar Asteroid Belt--Drax'klyn. Rumors spoke of its chemical properties being highly compatible to Gris and having the ability to isolate even the purest forms of energy. Unfortunately, their mission ended in catastrophe and Tinka was the lone survivor, though he lost an eye in the process.

With one final personal mission in mind, Tinka decided to cut his losses with Drax'klyn and took up several jobs under the wings of no name pilots scattered about Neo Earth. Over the years, he adopted many skills in the way of mechanics and opened his own shop. For the time being, Tinka's known in the business for his signature goggle technology (infrared vision, hand-eye coordination support, cerebral enhancement, sonar--you name it), while tinkering away at busted engines when he has the time.

TRAITS ||

• Strengths
  • Ship and Engine Repair: In the off chance of an engine breakdown or having to revive a means of transportation, Tinka is the man for the job. Just give him a few hours, plenty of elbow room, and few parting words of flattery to boost his ego. He'll have the ship up and running in no time.
  • Agile: Tinka can be one slippery little Meridian, especially when he finally realizes the danger he's put himself in.
  • Unshakable Will: Once Tinka has his mind set on a goal, he absolutely refuses to budge until it's achieved. The only way one could possibly sway his decision is if they provide him a much more desirable alternative or knock him unconscious.
  • Sandman: As mentioned before, he's bullheaded, and sometimes a clock to the noggin is what's needed to keep Tinka in check. Just make sure the punch packs plenty of heat because he's incredibly sturdy, despite his deceivingly thin form.
• Weaknesses
  • Brash and Reckless: All of the intelligence Tinka wields does little to quell his eagerness. Due to this, he has a tendency to act before thinking and jumps headfirst into a situation.
  • Weakling: Yes--he could take hits for hours on end and laugh in someone's face all the while. However, landing a blow of his own is far from likely and if it does, the impact will be pathetic. He spent his life condition the muscle in his head, not his arms.
  • Coordination: Unfortunately, Tinka is still adjusting to the new eye implant. He struggles with mismatched eye coordination, as his right grants him vision in dim lighting and long distance, while the left has neither.

TOKEN || A pair of goggles resting comfortably on his forehead, whenever he's not utilizing its features. They seem traditional at first glance, aside from a polished chrome finish. They're activated via a combination of motion sensors and surface level recognition (aka, his fingerprints). The lenses themselves hold a cadence of warm colors, which flicker to life when struck with light at the right angle.

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[Mobley Eats]

Pyche


AGE || 31 | RACE || Nox | OCCUPATION || "Retired" Mercenary|

PLANET OF ORIGIN || Pol'Ari | CURRENT LOCATION || Ranix |​

APPEARANCE || Pyche stands at an even and perfectly postured height of 5'8". Her unnaturally pale complexion and platinum blond hair speaks true to her heritage, and her perpetually cold blue eyes are always scanning her surroundings like a patient predator. Her visage is void of any wrinkle lines, deceitfully so, as she experiences more than enough stress in an hour to bring a beast to its knees. It's the lack of facial movement that begets her impossible smooth face. However, the rest of her toned and athletic frame tells a different story; scars and lashes and burns decorate her body, leaving only a few patches of unscathed flesh on her limbs. Pyche prefers to keep her hair styled into a tight and immaculate ponytail, while adorning her beloved midnight black spacesuit (with traces of pink here and there).

POSITION || Resistance

BIO || From the moment Pyche was born into Pol'Ari's war torn world, she was conditioned to become a killing machine. Whether they were casualties or spoils of Kalazar conquest, she had no chance of knowing her parents. She was immediately placed under the watch of retired Invariance Cultists and had the beliefs of Kalazar drilled into her infant skull--through any means necessary. As the years progressed, Pyche's potential became undeniable and enticed her mentors to pour as much knowledge as they could into her, to smother all traces of compassion left in her until she became the perfect, obedient soldier.

Unsurprisingly, she joined the cult's ranks once she was of age, and traveled from planet to planet with her unit, spreading the Cult of Invariance's superior way of life. Pyche's unit wasn't a force to be trifled with and their reverence among the army mass spread faster than a deadly plague. She finally lived up to her horrific name...

Until she didn't.

What was supposed to be a routine two-month sweep through the underbelly of Ranix took a detour when Pyche suddenly disappeared. Without word. Without reason. Enraged by her insubordination, several high-ranking soldiers were sent to the same planet to hunt the woman down. This turned out to be far easier said than done. A few years passed and just as the search was about to fade into the background, Pyche turned herself in, trembling from head to toe. Expression unreadable but broken. She was taken in and tried for treason. It was by the grace of many deities that she escaped execution, as the Invariance were hesitant to dispose of one of their best soldiers.

Instead, Pyche was forced into a... negotiation, of sorts. Her life was spared, but she now found herself bound to the dangerous lands of Ranix. Forever. Due to a burning motivation that she refuses to delve into details about, Pyche no longer harbors loyalty to the Kalazar and wishes nothing more than to dismantle their hierarchy, loosen their claws around the throats of many, and take back what belongs to her.

TRAITS ||

• Strengths
  • Poison Education: Pyche possesses in-depth knowledge about natural poisons and venoms native to many planets, though she feels more confident about the ones residing in Pol'Ari, Leela, and Ranix. She's also useful in the instance of concocting antidotes for ailing victims... Just pray that she views you as valuable and actually wants to help.
  • Combat Trained: Of course, years of harsh training and further years of fighting for Kalazar has granted Pyche combative prowess. She knows her way around most traditional blades and daggers, and she packs quite the punch.
  • Perceptive: Paranoia had always been her best friend and bed mate. Above all else, a tool. She is always on high alert, which sometimes feeds into a nasty habit of distrusting everyone she meets.
• Weaknesses
  • Distant: Compassion is none of Pyche's concern, let alone emotions in general. She wants to take down Kalazar. That's it.
  • Mentally Unstable: For the most part, Pyche is calm and collected. However, she has her moments where reality around her experiences a glitch, so to speak, or sleeps avoids her for a few days in a road. It's never anything fretful or distressed, but her patience with others dwindles as a result.
  • Absent Filter: She says whatever is on her mind. Blatant and straightforward, uncaring of how it'll affect whoever listens. She's merely pointing out the facts of the situation.
  • Do Not Touch: The Golden Rule. Never, ever, ever touch Pyche without her mission. That warning also applies to her satchel, which holds all of her personal belongings and poison kit.

TOKEN || Tucked away securely in the bottom of her satchel is a poorly crafted bracelet. It holds pink beads with letters crudely carved into them, which are arranged to spell something.

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[DarinValore]

CHARACTER SKELETON

Kai Anderz


AGE || 30 | RACE || Human | OCCUPTION | Scientist (Xenological and Human Biology specializing in Tech Application) |

PLANET OF ORIGIN || Neo Earth | CURRENT LOCATION || SS New York |


APPEARANCE || Standing at 5' 11'' and weighing in at 180 lbs, Kai is in no way physically imposing. While he maintains a physical fitness, one look in his brown eyes reveals that his mind is more deadly a weapon than any other part of him. His brown hair is generally messy in appearance and his beard is a result of not understanding the necessity of using a razor.

POSITION || Ordinary Citizen

BIO || If it rains on the just and the unjust, then it storms like a raging hurricane fueled by an endless cycle of pain and misery in Kai's case. Trouble followed him like a cloud and tainted everything he ever cared about..ever loved. The fear, the hatred, the loss and pain, clouded his thoughts and labored his mind to the brink of a breakdown. So, he did the only thing he thought would fix it and poured himself into his life's work, a neurological blocker that inhibits emotions. Kai implanted the device in himself, and without pesky emotions to cloud is thoughts and judgment, he's able to focus more on what matters, science. Science doesn't disappoint or hurt. Science doesn't leave or die. It doesn't discriminate. It just is, and all other things conform to its will or suffer the consequences.

TRAITS || Logical, Calculating,Tech-Savvy, Sticks to a moral compass, understands Loyalty. Can appear cold and uncaring, untactful, disregards those driven by emotion.

TOKEN || A soldering laser pen gifted by someone he once cared about. Now he keeps it because it's useful.

 

[Elle Joyner]

CHARACTER SKELETON​

NEFERTITI JONES
AGE || Twenty-Seven | RACE || Humanoid | OCCUPTION | Soldier |
PLANET OF ORIGIN || Tarnigarth | CURRENT LOCATION || Neo-Earth |​

APPEARANCE || Like the ancient queen of old for whom she is named, Neffi is uncommonly structured - broad shouldered, muscular, standing at an imposing 5'9", she is everything a soldier ought to be. Her features are surprisingly soft, in spite of her build, almond eyes framed by thick, dark brows, bowed lips beneath a wide button nose, and a soft jaw complimented by a slightly masculine chin. Her hair is shaved on the sides, long dark waves generally pulled taut in a bun atop her head. Her skin, bronzed from long days under cruel conditions, is dappled with scars, the most prominent of which runs from her left shoulder blade to the small of her back.
POSITION || Resistance
BIO || Born on Tarnigarth, Neffi wasn't given must choice regarding her future, though if this bothered her, she never indicated as much. In truth, the life of a soldier was preferable... a honor, and one that she took with the uttermost sincerity. By eighteen, Neffi had already undergone the trials necessary to earn her a promotion to Captain, and with a unit of soldiers beneath her, they were charged with protecting The Island of Glass - a dangerous and lucrative sector in Tarnigarth, widely populated by natural disasters and for this reason not yet under Kalazar reign.
Unfortunately, Neffi was betrayed by her second in command, who allowed Kalazar cultists to infiltrate the Island. While most of her troops were murdered in their sleep, Neffi was captured, held and tortured for information on Tarnigarth and its army.
Three weeks into her captivity, after giving them no information, Neffi was officially charged by the cultists with Insurrection and sentenced to death. It was during her attempted execution, the Neo-Earth insurgents struck, rescuing Neffi and her fellow prisoners. They were spirited away to Neo-Earth, where Neffi was offered the opportunity for a new post and a new team - an opportunity she took immediately upon recovering.
TRAITS ||
(+) Determined | What Neffie sets her mind to, she generally accomplishes.
Fortified | Strength runs deep in the young soldier - making her capable, both physically and mentally.
Strategic | From childhood, war strategem was drilled into her. This has given her the ability to adapt to most situations seamlessly.
(=) Passive | Most situations outside of those she's directly resonsible for, or war-related issues, Neffie has no trouble taking a neutral alignment. She couldn't care less about other people's problems.
Resilient | Whatever the setback, Neffie is generally able to make lemons from lemonade (even if it's tart as hell)
Dedicated | What she sets her mind to, Neffie does. End of story.
(-) Indifferent | Simply put, Neffie doesn't care about your nonsense. She's not gonna give you a hug if you're hurting, and isn't going to kiss booboos better. As long as the job gets done, she's happy, but get in her way... and you might find out how cold she can be.
Simple | Black and White. No Grey. Neffie doesn't look at things from a small picture standpoint. Bad people are enemies. Good people are allies. Pick a side.
Blunt | She says what she means and generally means what she says. Even if sometimes it's pretty razor sharp.
TOKEN || An oddly beautiful pin - a silver dove, passed down to her by her great grandmother.

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[WingWong]

CHARACTER SKELETON​

Mazheira "Maz" Faor

AGE || 27 | RACE || Meridian | OCCUPTION | Mechanic/Pilot|
PLANET OF ORIGIN || Meridiem | CURRENT LOCATION || Neo Earth |
​

APPEARANCE || Standing at a height of 5'4, Maz has a strong and sturdy, if not somewhat short, build. Wide shoulders, powerful legs, and strong cords of muscle in her arms make up her compact frame. Her ink black hair is sheered short, the tight curls coiled close to her scalp. Her umber skin has grown dark on the surface of Neo Earth, making her Gris neon eyes pop. Her soft features are accented by piercings, with one above her lips, one in her nose, and several around the rim of her ears. She's typically wearing black, sometimes cut in unique patterns or trimmed in neon that was true to her home planet's heritage, or in her pilot suit when she's flying.

POSITION || Ordinary Citizen

BIO || Born as the second daughter to one of Meridiem's Coalition Senators and an alliance diplomat, Maz knew a fairly comfortable life both in the bunkers and underground world of her home planet as well as abroad on her family's diplomatic travels. As comfortable as one could be, at least, when one's home planet and more than half the Coalition were engaged in war. She and her sister Nehamka were sheltered to say the least, though well loved. For years, she and her family carefully evaded the encroaching forces of the Kalazar, able to attend diplomatic meetings on Neo Earth.

One fateful day came, however, when the Faor family could evade the Kalazar no longer. Fearing for their children, Maz's parents desperately loaded their children onto ships headed towards the still unconquered planets, the very same ships that were meant for her parents' themselves if thing went wrong.

Maz and her older sister were separated and sent hurtling through space, watching as their parents faded from view as the Kalazar overtook the city. Upon their travels to nearby allied planets, the small ill-equipped ships were approached by ships that had blocked off the planet. Taking heavy damage, Maz's pilot was lucky to have gotten through the blockade. Unable to reach the other pilot that carried her sister, however, they were forced to land or be lost to space in their efforts to find Nehamka.

They crashed on Neo-Earth as refugees, desperate to fade from the public view that could alert anyone that may have wanted her dead to the existence of the youngest daughter of the Meridiem diplomats. The pilot carved out as good a life as they could for the young Maz, who found herself doing anything to occupy her time. Working on ships, tinkering away in a mechanic's shop, altering weapons she salvaged in the shadier parts of Neo-Earth's cities. She took on an apprenticeship with an inventor that took on side jobs working on ships for the…less than legal pilots.

Mourning the eventual loss of her mentor and the pilot that finished raising her, she took on her mentor's role. She served as a mechanic to those willing to pay her price, working in her spare time to improve weapons, armor, and soup-up her own ship to fly in unofficial races in the outer limits of Neo-Earth's gravity that made her blood sing.

And in the rest of her time… she would float in the outer reaches of Neo Earth's gravity, waiting, as if searching for something. Someone.

She's been biding her time, dreaming of the chance to pay forward the death of her parents to the Cult of Invariance and the chance to learn her sister's fate.

In the meantime, though, she'll keep flying and she'll keep building guns.


TRAITS ||
Strengths-
-Resourceful- It may not be pretty, but Maz can make it work. It's a motto that has been said of her and she has used herself. Throwing her into situations makes her very quickly take note of what she has and how she can put it to use. She's rigged some horribly dangerous alterations to her ship before, but hey, it works. Left to her own devices, Maz will find a way to thrive.

-Highly Adaptable- That ability to be thrown into a situation and then find a way out extends here too. She is constantly running calculations in her head, constantly altering them as new information is presented. Her mind is always running, and it leads her to change plans at the drop of a hat. She rolls with the punches easily enough.

-Charismatic- A people person at heart, she thrives in large groups. She loves to talk, loves to ask people about themselves, loves to learn and know people. She's friendly, and can also quickly turn on that diplomatic persona she learned from her parents if needed.

Weaknesses-
-Careless- It isn't that she doesn't care. She does. Quite a bit actually. However, she has a tendency to be very laid-back or dismissive of sometimes very serious issues. She brushes off concerns in favor of something else, or even is careless with her own safety and health.

-Impulsive- It's hardly that she doesn't have a plan. She does. But if you think you'll have the time between when she's made a snap decision and calculated a plan on the fly and when she'll execute it, you're mistaken. She's highly adaptable, but that ability has led her to leap into action with little thought, half a plan and half made calculations, and no one around her knowing what in the Coalition she's doing.

-Apparent lack of preservation- She rushes in with her half formed plans, with the expectation she'll find some way out. This has also made itself very apparent in her meddling with very dangerous tasks and items. Those that have flown with her have noted that while she's a very good pilot, she's good in that she must be suicidal and they, more often than not, end up kissing the ground when back on solid land again, only earning a laugh from Maz. She's also tampered with weapons, with risk of life and limb nary a thought on her mind.

TOKEN || She has a round, coin-like disk that was given to her by her parents before she was forced to evacuate, which is attached to the keychain for the keys to her ship. It's just smaller than the palm of her hand and has an intricate carving of an eye on either side.

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[Tyche]

CZARINA SMIRNOV
[Faceclaim: Julia Almendra]

AGE || 29 | RACE || Humanoid [Cyborg] | OCCUPATION | Bounty Hunter/Smuggler |

PLANET OF ORIGIN || Neo-Earth | CURRENT LOCATION || Klangbar Asteroid Belt |​

APPEARANCE || With a tall and narrow frame, Czarina weighs only a measly 122 lbs. and living within the shadows has given her skin and features a sickly appearance. Her hair remains unruly no matter the occasion and the rest of her ensemble is a mix-match of dark colors, leather and outfits to cover her more robotic features. The makeshift mask adorning the lower half of her face is to hide the missing pieces of her jawline and provides an embedded cochlear implant to aid her broken speech caused by deafness. Czarina has the cool, calculating stare of someone who has seen enough and she carries herself like she knows your deepest, darkest secret. Always hovering around the corner, or lurking in the shadows, Czarina knows too much and yet seeks more from the galaxy.

POSITION || Resistance

BIO || Despite being born with permanent hearing loss, Czarina grew-up in a normal household with her mother and her father who served on the counsel during her childhood. Neo-Earth being a booming technological planet, her father was able to aid her ailment at a young age, however she never focused on her education to fix her speech impediment. Schooling and education simply did not excite her like finding out the information herself. She began to covet the streets of Neo-Earth, a rat paid under the table for the stories and lies she heard within the shadows. Her parents made a decent amount of currency, but Czarina wanted to create her own path thus creating her own business working both for and against most higher-ups residing on Neo-Earth.

That is, until her accident. Caught between a rock, a hard-place, and a high-tech engineered monster, Czarina suffered from a bad business transaction that caused her to lose her right hand, her jaw, and her dignity. A medical chamber held her broken parts and pride for a long-time and after months of rehabilitation she was released back home where her parents kept more of a stricter eye on their daughter. It wasn't until she turned 18 did she return to the streets of Neo-Earth to undo the damage that had been done to her. Years and years of service to the underground gave Czarina a name for herself thus allowing her to expand her business and acquire the tools to get off the planet permanently.

She said goodbye to her parents and flew off into the galaxy to find success. A well-known bounty-hunter and smuggler to those that require such services with an underlying tie to the resistance, Czarina has lived a life in the dark and does not wish to emerge anytime soon.

TRAITS ||
(+) Tolerant | Czarina surrounds herself with most, if not all, personalities, religions, ethnicity, or etc et era, which is why she runs the business she does. Neither dark nor light, the young silver-haired phantom allows all behaviors and opinions even if she does not necessarily agree with them.

Dauntless | She is both fearless and determined in her job and her life. She has no problem going forward with a bounty and all of it's risk as long as she comes out the other side with a bigger and better reputation.​

Observant | Quick to notice things and people, Czarina can pick a needle out of a haystack and even runner from the Cult or the Senate. With two of her five senses already lacking, she makes up with her eyes.​

(=) Stoic | She endures pain and hardships without complaint and almost never twitches a feature for something she may dislike. This makes it hard for her to relate to others and create acquaintances, but Czarina has yet to complain.

Practical | When a plan is made, Czarina follows it to it's completion and never falters from the path. She sticks to what she can do versus what she is told and tends to space when new ideas or theories are thrown in the loop. She lives a very straightforward path.​

(-) Deceptive | Czarina has a history of lies that were made to protect others truth. She is very good at leaving a lie in the past and nothing has yet to follow her. She can easily manipulate a situation to her liking with both her words and her presence, which can turn into a conundrum when matched with someone who can easily sense a sleight of hand.

Rudeness | She has a lack of manners and courtesy that make her very standoff-ish to others, which is why she does not have many acquaintances or friends. She doesn't comply with social norms or etiquette of a group or culture and keeps to herself. She enjoys the distance that comes with a negative persona.​

Self-reliant | Czarina relies on her own powers and resources rather than those of others. It is how she has always functioned and it has hindered her ability to trust other's intuitions as well as their intentions.​

TOKEN || A red/blue wire, at least a foot in length, that looks like it was ripped from the innards of some sort of machinery. It's frayed and usually kept coiled in silver container she keeps on-hand.

 

[Doctor Jax]

CHARACTER SKELETON​

KIYOKO 'KIKI' BESHNA

AGE || 32 | RACE || Human | OCCUPTION | Retired Spec Ops |
PLANET OF ORIGIN || SS Philadelphia/Drandma VI | CURRENT LOCATION || Leela |
​

APPEARANCE || Kiki has incredibly fair skin with just the slightest hint of a tan, evident from some long ago Asian ancestry. Her hair is a very dark brown, bordering on black, and left long. Usually it is in a ponytail, or otherwise drawn back. Her nose is straight, mouth generous but often in a half-smile, her expression easy to read. On her face are several scored marks in surgical fashion, indicative of implants originally used for facial Friend-Or-Foe readings on classified transport vehicles and special clearance. She also possesses several scars up the left side of her face, small and well-healed. She is 5'9", muscularly built, but the left side of her torso, neck, and arm are entirely mechanical. Her lower left leg starting above the knee is also mechanical.

POSITION || Former Resistance - retired Spec Ops

BIO || Simply put, Kiki was a Drandman-born rat with human family on Philadelphia, a delinquent. It took one summer up there to convince her she wanted to be a soldier. With drive, she climbed the ranks, earning a spot in the elite unite BODYSNATCHER, a retrieval squad meant to save sensitive targets from behind enemy lines discretely via dropship. While with BODYSNATCHER, her mentor Jonesy Bright was shot down and crashed on Hava. Sent to retrieve him, her transport was tagged with explosives by Kalazar forces. As soon as she entered the hangar, they detonated, killing Jonesy, her crew, and crippling her. Two years later, she is rehabilitating on Leela. Her left lung, kidney, and a large portion of her digestive tract had to be regrown or substituted with biomech. Her left arm and half her left leg were replaced with prostheses. The worst damage, however, is to her mind. She cannot bear to drop into enemy territory again, despite therapy and a loving Leelan husband to support her. Given her mental state, Resistance forces were lenient enough to allow her to continue her reprieve on Leela.

TRAITS ||
STRENGTHS:
- Fast Thinker: Kiki's claim to fame. She is extremely adept at thinking quickly and on her feet. The woman will not waste time, and she is able to maintain keen focus under pressure. It served her well while battling the wilds of each planet, not knowing what exactly she'd find.
- Independent: Solus es. Simply put: you are alone. BODYSNATCHER mandated that teams in the field must operate without help once behind enemy lines. Once back there, no one can help you. She learned to rely on herself and what she has on hand, and to make do with what she has where she's at.
- Willfulness: Bane to her parents, but lifesaver to the Resistance. Kiki's body is going to give out before her will does. She is decisive and extremely driven.
- One Man Army: Every member of BODYSNATCHER is expected - and will probably have to - fight off an army's worth of men. She is biologically enhanced to do just that.

WEAKNESSES:
- Headstrong: Some of her strengths are also her weaknesses. That willfulness means she believes wholeheartedly she is right. Often, she is. But when she's not, good luck convincing her.
- Insular: She does not communicate feelings well. Never has. She's working on it. However, that means she often bottles emotions and chooses to muscle through them, not work with them.
- On Guard: That battle sense never turns off. She rarely rests easy, despite her outgoing personality.
- Terrified: The PTSD of losing Jonesy and her crew to what she views as an avoidable mistake has cost her. She is eaten with guilt and paralyzed by anxiety and uncertainty, worried she will make the same mistake and cost her her life, and by proxy the life of her husband.

TOKEN || A very, very old silver dollar. Jonesy gave it to her, saying it was a good luck token. It somehow survived.[/font][/div]

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[/div]

 

[happymech99]

CHARACTER SKELETON​

Vrax Kir'ax

AGE || Thirty One | RACE || Sifters | OCCUPTION | Ordinary Citizen/Chef (Ex-Spec Ops) |
PLANET OF ORIGIN || Neo Earth/Drandma VI | CURRENT LOCATION || Neo Earth | ​

APPEARANCE || Standing a full height of six feet, Vrax's skin is quite tan due to the genes in his blood for being a Sifter. At first glance while he wears his usual attire either at work or something loose, he can be mistaken to be scrawny and physically unable to handle himself; underneath it however he is well built and although it may not be overly muscular, he is fitted enough to handle any threat that may come at him. His eyes are a deep golden color, his hair is slightly past shoulder length and is jet black, he has a beard and mustache combo. He also has a slash-like scar that runs along his right eye going down to his cheek. He prefers to wear anything usually loose just since he at times feels like anything too tight will make his movements restricted; outside of work he can normally be found wearing a hoodie with cargo pants if not a t-shirt with some ordinary shorts. He tends to carry around a large duffle bag around with him everywhere on his back though tends to keep it zipped up at all times and refuses to let anyone open it. While his left arm and right leg may appear ordinary, they are both actually mechanical.

POSITION || Former Resistance

BIO || Being born of Drandma VI without too much memory of his life as a child there aside from the hot days and the cold nights that he spent in the small home that was with those he considered 'family'. Due to spending less than ten years of his life on the planet and with his 'family' aside from gaining the training he did from his father on the use of shifting the sand to toys to play with and eventually into weapons to hunt and defend himself, Vrax really do much else. As time went on he was sent off onto a ship that was unknown to the little Vrax, he soon found himself on Neo Earth where he was sent to an orphanage to grow up at. Spending several years there where he was taken care of by both the older children there as well as the caretaker of the orphanage; as time went on and he had gotten his education from there, he'd grow to learn about how he wasn't exactly human and about his own strange ability to manipulate sand in the palm of his hands. Of course, this was entertaining for quite some time until he had learned about own home world as well as how this meant his actual family could be no more.

That was more than enough reasonings for him to join the resistance.

Years passed as he trained and pushed himself to his limits to be the best, Vrax soon found himself at the top of his own class and qualified to become apart of the special ops forces. Taking the opportunity when it rose up, he was given completely different training that was much more harsh, yet his will never wavered for even a moment.

After the years of gruesome training, he was finally an official member of the special ops forces and was sent on missions both alone and with small squads. Some missions were simple while others were much more difficult that risked the chance of his death several times.
It wasn't until one mission that lead him through a ruined town that he had found himself walking through 'abandoned' buildings that he found himself coming across children who were armed with small weaponry who attempted to defend themselves that he nearly lost it. His mission details were to kill anyone and anything that might prove as a threat and the children were one of them, unable to bring himself to do so; he attempted to convince them to return to Neo Earth with him to be safe though before they could agree or disagree, the building on their end had collapse due to a fire fight with the cult members.

Believing he failed the children and that he didn't want to ever feel that same pain again, he left the resistance and found a job as a chef at a small restaurant on Neo Earth to this day.

TRAITS ||
[+]Adaptive | No matter the what kind of condition the terrain is or what kind of conditions the weather might be or even the enemy that he faces, he is able to easily and quickly adjust to his surroundings to use whatever is around him as his tool or weapon.
[+]Intense Training | Due to being in the special ops forces and receiving training to be an elite member of the resistance, he has gone through multiple different training sessions regarding close combat hand-to-hand, long ranged, first-aid, quick retreats and others.
[+]Resourceful | Something that he had learned to do over time during his time on doing missions as well as after becoming a chef and finding days that the kitchen wasn't stocked with a particular ingredient and requiring him to improvise.

[=]Tech Smarts | Although he isn't exactly the greatest at it. He has had some practice in hacking into consoles here and there. However when it comes to repairing something, he makes it a priority that he knows what he is doing mainly to make sure he keeps his arm and leg up to spec.
[=]Realistic | Even when a situation might seem to be over or in his favor, Vrax will never be fully satified with anything until he knows for a fact that a battle or the mission is completely done when everyone is somewhere safe. Until then, he tends to always be on edge and running simulations in his head about all the possibilities of what could still go wrong.

[-]Teamwork | While he understands mentally the need for teamwork and why it's needed. The fact that he had been in so many squadrons already and seen the death of so many comrades. Vrax tends to try and distant himself from others to avoid the possibility of getting others hurt or killed because of him.
[-]Child's Heart | No matter what kind of an enemy it is or what kind of a threat they may pose, if it's a child, he can never bring himself to harm them no matter what.
[-]Water Resistant | Due to his mechanical arm and leg being an older model than other newer models out there and his own stubbornness to refuse to change them. If he were to go into an area that submerges his arm and leg underwater, they will nearly become useless unless they are drained of all water and recalibrated.

TOKEN || An old katana that has several symbol engravings all along the sheath and handle. He sharpens it daily and tends to never use it for combat aside from training by himself at just swinging it around. He keeps it around with him everywhere he goes and will either leave it somewhere he can always have a clear view of it or keep it on his person one way or another. It was given to him when he left the orphanage to join the resistance and was told that he had it with him when he was given to the orphanage at his young age.

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[Red Thunder]

|| Rii'Chii |
AGE || 35 Standard Years | RACE || Och'Nari | OCCUPTION || Assistant Manager of "Versatile Och'Nari In Diaspora" (V.O.I.D.) |
PLANET OF ORIGIN || Ocha | PLANET OF RELOCATION || Neo Earth |CURRENT LOCATION || Ryloth |
​

APPEARANCE || The Och'Nari are historically a large people, a boon in the hostile environment of their planet of origin. But without the pressures of ecological threat, some have foregone their stout physiologies, some purposefully, in order to better adapt to wider society, but most involuntarily, as a steady diet of the proper nutrition to support such a frame can be difficult to come by.
Rii'Chii is one such personage. Though he stands an average height for Och'Nari, cresting on a good day at 5"8', he lacks their strength and power. Keen eyes of a sea-green peer out from the recesses of their sockets, and the corners of his mouth always seem upturned, as if he were considering some joke that he would never tell. He most usually wears a style popular on Earth That Was: the suit and tie, finding the look simple, professional, and direct. A metal case of cigarettes sits in his left breast pocket, and he is never without it. |
POSITION || Ordinary Citizen |
BIO || "Strength is as strength does. If it tears down, it is tyrannical; if it lifts up, it is empowering. Watch, then, your strength. Whatever strength you find yourself with."

Rii'Chii grew up on Neo Earth, a part of an exiled people, feeling no less exiled himself from them. Ocho was dead, and the Och'Nari had to find their place among an established kind, themselves long exiled from Earth That Was. The Och'Nari made their way best they could, but too often they were reduced to squalor, their ancient skills and proclivities forgotten in the struggle to exist.

Mek'Chii wouldn't have it. Through means and ways his son would later be highly embarrassed of, Mek'Chii built first a network, and then a small empire, of artisanal builders and crafters of things glorious. And the Och'Nari remembered their skills, and soon prestige began to return to their small population. And Rii'Chii himself grew into the business side of things, as encouraged by his father, his hands crafting things too brutal and drab too be sold with his kin. And he took to the work, his jovial demeanor and focused mind gaining for the Versatile Och'Nari In Diaspora clout enough even to gain a reputation beyond Neo Earth. In celebration, Mek'Chii gifted his son a cigarette case, a family heirloom from years past.

But Mek'Chii was harsh and demanding, and the V.O.I.D.'s Committee forced an early retirement. Mek'Chii became bitter and heaped his resentment on Rii'Chii. Rii'Chii weathered it initially, but in time, he cut ties, feeling his own demeanor weighed down by his father's. The Committee appointed him in time as Assistant Manager, and though he had began to understand that his father's underhanded business creed was by no means his alone, he took the position, hoping to do good in that place.

And he did, for a time. But Death seems to loom on the horizon, and though Rii'Chii has busied himself of late on Ryloth by trying to expand the business there, he finds it harder to focus. |
TRAITS || (+) Dedicated, perhaps to a fault, Rii'Chii holds to a task once he has decided to take it on. He does allow this focus to exclude other parts of his life, however, and though he would say he is justified, he is without a doubt a (-) Workaholic.
(+) Amiable and friendly, he excels in his work, giving grace and compassion without bias or judgment. It is, however, a front, concealing a deeply (-) Cynical nature he knows would be immediately offensive by any he might meet, engendered by a keen observation of the depths to which people can sink to achieve their own selfish ends. And above all, he is dedicated to his task.
(+) Honorable, some might say to a fault, Rii'Chii has seen the effects of underhandedness, and the effects of threats and fear on people, and will have no part in it. This has unfortunately made him somewhat (-) Haughty or Arrogant toward those who violate his principles, even if there were mitigating circumstances .
(+) Clever in a way different from his people, Rii'Chii is a businessman through and through, and both his amicability and his good sense has secured many an Och'nari in exile a job, and for good pay, that they would likely have been unable to themselves. But intelligence breeds comprehension, and he keeps himself busy to hide a pervasive (-) Melancholy that has driven him to near suicide, simply to escape the dread of his life. And to escape a deep regret for things done and not done.
Rii'Chii seeks hope, and desperately, of some end to the looming threat against their lives. |
TOKEN || As stated, Rii'Chii carries a metal cigarette case with him. Appearing more glass than metal, it refracts light dustily, as sunbeams do when entering a room freshly aired after years of disuse. On its face is etched a horned serpentine figure entwined about a cylinder of twisting bands; the crest of the House of Chii. |

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[Cwispy]

Serafel of the Nine

AGE || 66 | RACE || Ashen | OCCUPTION | Mercenary |
PLANET OF ORIGIN || Blight | CURRENT LOCATION || location |
​

APPEARANCE || Efre is a more beautiful specimen of her species, at least according to those who see her without her armor on. Her physical structure is lean and lithe, honed by years of martial training and combat. Her eyes and the ends of her hair are ever burning with flame. She bears white markings on her face -a symbol of her planet on her chin and lines drawn from her eyes- and she has this strange growth on her forehead that pulses faintly, like glowing cracks of ember.

POSITION || Ex-Efreet

BIO || No one wants Blight except the Ashen, because only the Ashen can live there. Despite this, and despite the fact that Blight has never been invaded, the imminent threat of the Cult of Invariance led the Akoum (the Ashen's Retaliation Invasion Fleet) to swell in number, slowly but surely killing the tradition of the Efreet--elite warriors that wander worlds, fighting for their code, wealth and homeland.

Serafel, however, strove to become one of the Nine, an Efreet of one of the most prestigious combat schools on Blight. While she trained there she was "reborn" many times, training in live-fire exercises that none but the Ashen could survive. After she earned her place among the Nine, she left Blight to earn fame and wealth for her home world. She left proud on he own ship, with her armor and weapons.

She has taken countless missions and contracts since, over the last 30+ years. All of that ended when she was assigned a contract by her own people, one that she couldn't refuse. It was an assassination of one of their own kind, apparently an Ashen woman from Blight's Reconnaissance Fleet (an R&D fleet dedicated to Blight's defense and exploration of the local systems and beyond) was selling Ashen weapon designs to Kalazar. This was not of the Tiferet, and the penalty for such a steep betrayal of the Ashen was death.

Serafel abandoned her mission, and now, together with the woman she was supposed to kill, they are running from Blight's retribution.

TRAITS || Unyielding, Principled, Thoughtful, Strong -- Unbending, Shortsighted, Prideful, Terse

TOKEN || Dagger of the Nine: Essentially her graduation gift-- although so much more. The blade has a lineage and is said to be indestructible. Serafel uses it for everything and it never leaves her person.

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[WingWong]

CHARACTER SKELETON​

Sol'klahan "Soul" of Injiam

AGE || 26 | RACE || One of the Nowhere Men | OCCUPTION |Survivalist/Artisan and Runner for Resistance Forces|
PLANET OF ORIGIN || Binx | CURRENT LOCATION || Binx |
​

APPEARANCE || Soul is fairly tall, standing at a height of roughly 6'3, with a lean, wiry build making him appear just that much taller. These slender limbs are hidden under heavy layers of clothing to shield him from the icy planet on which he lives. Much of his clothing is black, one set in particular having an intricately embroidered design on the sleeve as an identifying mark. He also has another far more casual appearance when dealing with those he'd rather not know his identity amongst the Nowhere Men. Most notable about his appearance, however, is the lack of identifying features. He wears a smooth, mirrored mask over his face, often with a faded pink scarf or black balaclava-esque black sleeve covering his head to further shield him from the cold.

POSITION || Resistance

BIO || Born amongst the Nowhere Men of Binx, Soul has known only of a life in which the Cult of Invariance was always a lurking danger. The Cult's forces and bases were hard to miss and always a sore sight for the eyes of those amongst the nomadic people that had evaded the Cult's takeover in favor of maintaining their options. The price for these options, of course, was an even more way existence as they tried to stay just out of the reaches of the Cult and any enthusiastic supporters.

Soul himself, however, was a bright and intelligent child, if not somewhat....deadpan. Quiet, pensive, deeply creative and remarkably observant, he carved out a place amongst his clan as an artisan between other tasks. As he came into adulthood, however, it was hard for him to miss the strain that hosting the Cult had put on his planet in general as well as the other clans that were not so lucky as to evade the invading Kalazar. It was hard to miss as well the stories of those that resisted. Executed, enslaved, or forced to flee into the shadows of Binx. Still, the clan carried on, always on the move to both maintain their history and to evade the Cult's forces.

It wasn't until one fateful night that Soul stumbled into an underground cavern that he had seen any of the supposed Resistance forces on the planet. Left staring into the masks of dozens having sought refuge and the reclamation of their planet, Soul was able to plead his case and eventually found himself searching for ways to help. Which lead to skirting the edges of the Cult's bases, raiding them for supplies and information, and occasionally sabotaging a few key pieces of equipment to hinder the Cult's plans. With the aid of his clan, he became a Runner for the Resistance that lay underground, going where they couldn't due to the prices on their heads.

His life has continued this way for some while, traveling and aiding the Resistance where he can. He's heard recent news, though, that the Resistance has received a strange object, and he can't quite shake the feeling that something is changing soon....

TRAITS ||
Strengths-
-Creative- An artistic being at heart, it isn't hard to find Soul expressing himself in ways that don't include his face or his voice. His tendency to view things differently lends itself well in other situations. He's often taking in from a different point of view, considering a different approach, and generally providing a new means to accomplish tasks.

-Persistent- When given a task he feels he must bring to completion, Soul is hard to deter. Call it stubbornness, call it determination, but Soul fully intends to see what he starts to the end. It's a drive that doesn't get the chance to come to its full potential very often, but it's always been a part of him.

-Level-headed- Generally able to distance himself from others and sort facts from fiction, Soul often remains his composure. At least, as far as most can tell. To say you can't get a rise out of Soul isn't true. It usually takes a lot of wearing down or a very specific personality type, but more often than not, Soul has a rational approach and deceptively easy-going composure for how much is actually going on in his head.


Weaknesses-
-Aloof- Soul is generally hard to read, between both a mask and a voice that often lacks inflection. He has a dry, deadpan and matter of fact way of speaking that can make him a little abrasive to those he talks to. Of course, it's unlikely he talks to outsiders first at all. He much prefers to hover at the fringes of a group and keep to himself. His distrust of outsiders and outsiders generally not quite knowing how to take his personality has led to this behavior being reinforced in the very few instances it has been put to the test.

-Cynical- As much as he wants to see things change, Soul is not an optimistic or cheery sort of person. He's fairly realistic, according to himself, but those that listen find that his reality veers towards a much darker and pessimistic path. He does what he does because he feels he has to do something, that he can't just sit idly by. However, if you were to ask how much hope he had for it working? You'd be dismayed and a little put-off by the answer.

-Distrustful- Soul is very distrustful of outsiders, with the main outsiders he has known in his life having been the Cult of Invariance. He distances himself, closes himself off, and is generally unwilling to open up in typical ways to other people. He considers these deepest parts of himself to be his and his alone and has difficulty even opening up a little to those that have not known him all his life.


TOKEN || He wears a stone pendant under his scarf that was given to him by one of the leaders of his clan, as a signifier of his belonging to the group. It is carved with the image of a bird-like creature native to Binx.

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[Kuno]

MIMZA NNZIK

AGE || 26 | RACE || Drackspar | OCCUPATION | Body Modification Artist |
PLANET OF ORIGIN || Kalazar | CURRENT LOCATION || Kalazar |
​

APPEARANCE ||

Mimza is a diminutive member of her race. Standing at a meager 5'3", the young woman lacks the imposing presence her much taller kinsmen hold. Athleticism never suited her; her body simply was not built for it, and her frame, slight and slender, barely weighs in at 100 lbs. Still, shameful size aside, she is by all accounts Drackspar, if not for the pallid grey skin she bears or for the set of small gray horns curving delicately from her skull. They are almost always covered by her grey-black hair, which she wears coiffed in an elaborate, tasseled headdress. Tattoos mar her fair skin in a precise fashion. Eyes black and compelling as the night sky peer out keenly from a small, waifish face. Her image is carefully curated by the day; she is a testament to her trade, after all, and can not afford to be dressed slovenly. The young woman moves about with frenetic energy, as if something is always nipping at her heels.

POSITION || Ordinary Citizen/ Reformed Kalazar Supporter

BIO ||

See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil.

So long as she kept a blind eye to the blight that was Invariance, Mimza was able to prosper.

Against all odds, Mimza Nnzik - considered by many to be the most inferior of her seven siblings - managed to eke out a satisfactory living in the swelled underbelly of East Kalazar's largest city. She did not go to the factories as so many often did. Instead, lulled by the promise of gain and free artistry, she turned to her true calling: body modification. Drackspar are a people known for their elegant horns and pointed features; Mimza sought to embellish the body further, her work including horn carvings, tattoos, piercings, and other skin augments rarely found in her corner of the world. It was not long before she was able to open her own place of business, and she has done financially, well enough to pull herself from the dregs of society into the posh, inner city.

In the backdrop of her success, the political scene of Kalazar was rife with turmoil. Whispers of rebellion soon reached her tiny shop. Mimza did her best to stay out of it, but the idea of a rebel force building up once more has intrigued her. She'd never held much love for the Cult, but common sense dictated she keep any such thoughts to herself. Just recently, while deep in conversation with a few disgruntled soldiers, Mimza let slip her own distaste for the brute imperialism of Kalazar. Paranoid, the woman now seeks to pick up shop and go someplace far, far away where no one will recognize her.

TRAITS ||
POSITIVE:
Tolerant: Patience is key, both in her line of work and her dealings with her fellow clansmen. The long-suffering Drackspar has dealt with enough flared tempers in her life to be able to weather the worst vitriol out there. She can not and will not rise to another's taunts. It's just bad business practice.

Industrious: To work is to live. Her trade is her passion, and Mimza is quite willing - and eager - to work from the day's beginning to the day's end. Her craft requires a sense of perfectionism and an eye for detail, both of which Mimza displays in abundant quality. She can be counted on to see a job all the way through to the end.

Eccentric: A bit of an odd character - even by alien standards - Mimza is known for her out-of-the-box behaviour and way of thinking. It's served her well in her practice; in fact, she likes to view things from every angle possible. The more unconventional the idea, the better.

NEGATIVE:
Skittish: Caution is taken to the extreme in her case. Already small and weak for her race, Mimza sees potential danger in everyone and everything. Years of intense scrutiny and conflict from her fellow Kalazarian's have whittled the poor woman's nerves down to next to nothing. She is jumpy and easily frightened. She will run or hide if it means saving her own skin, others with her be damned.

Passive: Mimza has only one set goal, and that is to survive. All other decisions, actions, and thoughts fall prey to her own acquiescent nature. She is deplorably passive, disinclined to voice a hard opinion on anything for fear of alienating others.

Materialistic: Born to abject poverty, Mimza grew up with a deep desire to emulate the life her rich patrons held. The pursuit of wealth drives her. In doing so, should the opportunity to make a fortune present itself, she is hard-pressed to turn it down. Her money inevitably is squandered on pretty baubles, and she is then forced to work harder to make up for the loss. A vicious cycle.

TOKEN || A long red sash of human design. Soft, bright, and unquestionably un-Dracksparian, it was the woman's first frivolous purchase after making it on her own. She likes to adorn a different object with it every day. She claims that it brightens up the place and will ask that you please do not touch it.[/font][/div]

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[Fyrra]

Vanora Rhytlock

AGE || 24 | RACE || Human | OCCUPTION | Botanist, Diver |
PLANET OF ORIGIN || Ryloth | CURRENT LOCATION || TBD |
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APPEARANCE || Standing at 165 cm with a lean build and an impractically long mane of turquoise hair, Vanora exudes a serene expression in her stride and usually carries with her a gentle smile, though as of late she's taken to covering the lower-half of her face with a black mask. Her pale skin and androgynous face clash with most clothing aesthetics, but she looks comfortable enough as long as she has a pair of sturdy boots on. Apart from that, her choice in clothing swings from dresses to a tank-top and either cargo pants or a long skirt, with little variation outside the pattern.

Spoiler

POSITION || Ordinary Citizen

BIO || Born to a somewhat large family that might charitably be described as a small commune, Vanora grew up on Ryloth, distanced from the horrors of war, but never completely removed: news of the doomed rebellion was never hard to find, though once her older sister signed on with the resistance it came with the silent assumption that she wasn't to walk the same path.

Cycles passed, and as Vanora grew, she found herself paying less attention to news of The Invariance, and more on scientific discoveries both on and off-world. By her twentieth cycle, she'd worked her way into the science division, and a few cycles later even found herself under the tutelage of one Dr. M. Huxley, a somewhat renowned scientist known for his work in making sense of space anomalies.

In the wake of the resistance faction's looming destruction, and not so much as a letter or visit from her sister, Vanora almost dropped everything to go looking for any sign of her whereabouts: casualty lists, a body, anything, but was ultimately talked back down to her slightly less insane plan of sailing amongst the stars with a group of would-be scientists, at the behest of a mysterious signal being emitted from some long-dead planet.

"Hope is coming," the linguistics specialist translated. Little did they know, most of them were in over their heads.

TRAITS ||

(+) Adaptive: Things don't always go as planned, and while a solution to new problems might not readily present itself, Vanora can usually break her way out of a dire situation.

(+) Supportive: "It's just second-nature to want to help someone if they're hurt, right?" - An odd case, but apparently she also finds her resolve more easily if she's backing somebody else up?

(+) Resilient: Years of swimming, exploring underdeveloped lands, and observing wildlife have done their part in building up Vanora's physique, as well as exposing her to a number of unusual things that she probably shouldn't have eaten. For as skittish as she acts, she's a little bit tougher than she lets on.


(-) Emotional: Whether from simply not being accustomed to the tension that comes with a real battle, or from something else entirely, Vanora's intent is an easy read. Usually.

(-) Former Pacifist: She's willing to throw in and fight now, but her tendency to pull punches or hesitate when it's time to shoot is something she's still working on. This extends to her handling with firearms: the recoil and sound can make Vanora wince, and it takes time for her to line up a distant shot.


TOKEN || A jade pendant, the ornament reminiscent of some mammalian creature native to Ryloth.

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