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Topics - Lion
81
« on: December 10, 2015, 11:39:16 pm »
Prologue+ NAME + Luca Aario + ALIAS + N/A + AGE + Appears to be in 30’s + GENDER + Male + STAR SIGN + + BORN + Autumn + ORIGIN + The Midden + SPECIES + Human? + RESIDENCE + Aedolis – Or wherever he’s sent + OCCUPATION + Professional Agent, Extractor, Negotiator, and Corporate Assassin + COUNTENANCE + Strawberry-Blonde hair / Violet-gray eyes + STATURE + 5’11” / 189.4 lbs. + SEXUALITY + Unknown CH. I – Painting a PortraitWell-built, but not overly burly, and can pack a punch if necessary, although he prefers not to incite unnecessary violence. He has a sharp, but long nose, thin lips, and alert, shrewd eyes beneath an angular brow. It wouldn’t be hard to call him handsome, but he wouldn’t be expecting any compliments. His hair is often kept short, shaved along the sides, trimmed in the back; sometimes morning scruff grows on his face, but for the most part he is kept clean shaven. + NOTABLE MARKS + A few burn scars along his back, and shoulder. CH II – Mental Make-upIntelligent, but thoughtful, and never one to speak out of turn unless he feels his point must be made. He’s a generally reasonable man, as he should be when sent on a task to negotiate. Fiercely independent, he makes contact with others that need his services, and never allows any one employer to control him for any duration longer than his choosing – in a manner of speaking. Luca is educated, enjoys the fruits of his labor. He has a high-rise apartment, and he enjoys dressing finely, in crisp shirts, clothes or otherwise. But if he things get messy, well, then that’s just another roll on the river. + FAITH +Nada. + HABITS +Likes to write, drink occasionally, and partake in games. He’s a social man, but within reason and prefers small company to larger parties. CH III – Social + RELATIONSHIPS +Lots of business connections and people who are more or less dread his presence. If he’s paying you a visit, it’s rarely just to sit, have tea, and chat. Thade Olyphant, Half-brother They are each unaware of the existence of the other one. CH IV – Abilities / Skills+ PRESSURE POINTS + Luca has a very preferred method of killing others, one that leaves them in little trace of his presence, and very little in the way of a mess. He’ll improvise if he has to, sure, using conventional methods if he’s in the mood for it. But he sees an art in the execution, in using small needles to puncture pressure points to paralyze, mute, incapacitate, and kill his foes. He has highly developed martial skills, one well-concealed in a quiet and polite demeanor. But his lashing outs are vicious and can strike bodies in points that can delay death, or even rupture the body in violent, even gory manners. CH V – Gear / EquipmentSTUFF! CH VI – Reflections of the PastHe has one! He doesn’t like to talk about it. It’s in the past after all, and wouldn’t want to drudge up such dreadful memories. THREADSCardinal Rules (M) (NIX) Ghost in the System (M) (Cheesi)
82
« on: October 05, 2015, 10:13:32 pm »
Prologue+ NAME + Erax Akazian + ALIAS + N/A + AGE + Unknown, appears to be in 30’s + GENDER + Male + STAR SIGN + The Desert Hound + BORN + Unknown + ORIGIN + Aedolis + SPECIES + Human + RESIDENCE + The Wastelands + OCCUPATION + Ex-soldier / Wanderer + COUNTENANCE + Blue-Gray eyes / Light Brown hair + STATURE + 6’3”/ 203 lbs. + SEXUALITY + Unknown CH. I – Painting a PortraitA soldier’s build, strong and powerful. Erax has what seems to many an exhausted demeanor. He can move quickly and quietly, even for a man of his size. His eyes are blue-gray, always open and wary, often untrusting of strangers. Nose is stalward and rugged, with some facial stubble growing on his face. He isn’t one to fuss over his appearance, but to avoid the worry of having his hair in his face, it is cut short and close to the head, usually with a knife. There are even a few scars along his scalp where his blade strayed. + NOTABLE MARKS + Scars underneath his chin, along his neck, and across his right eye. CH II – Mental Make-upEvery much like a wild animal that hasn’t been socialized, Erax has lost much of sense of contact with civilization, or desire to be among them. And any contact with people has almost always come out bad. He will only interact out of necessity, and keeps that to a minimum. He looks out for himself and wants no trouble. There is no room for conscience in the Wastes where he wanders, only survival. + FAITH +Was once a faithful man, if it could be called that, but a materialistic world quickly rectifies those sentiments. If he lives another day, he thanks his wit, cunning, and experience. + HABITS +Speeding, Reckless Driving, and blastin’ fools. CH III – Social + RELATIONSHIPS + *TBA CH IV – Abilities / Skills+ SURVIVALIST +Years of wandering the Wastelands has forced him to adapt to harsh environments. There is no mercy out here, no room to wallow in one’s pain. The weak are quickly culled from the rest. If one does not learn to overcome, death is all that awaits them. Erax’s military training helps him in this matter, learning to remain calm under duress, stay focused and use his surroundings to his advantage. He can also drive like a mad man, and is a crack shot with a shotgun. + SCAVENGER +Using whatever you find and making the most of it, Erax is an expert at taking what others have discarded and turning it into something useful again. He’s skilled in making traps, usually setting them around his vehicle to make others think twice about stealing his things. Any ammo and weapons, scrap metal, and leather are collected for use or trade. CH V – Gear / EquipmentHas few real possessions. The only things that matter to him are his sawn-off shotgun, his clothes, and his vehicle. CH VI – Reflections of the PastHe doesn’t even remember his parents, or much of the life he had before now. He’s almost ashamed of it, but he lingers on little of the past. He was a soldier once, even an officer of good rank and standing. But he knew something he shouldn’t have and someone had sent he and his soldiers on a suicide mission. Captured by enemy forces, he was left for dead in the Wastelands and here he has remained. THREADSChasing the Storm
83
« on: September 29, 2015, 01:14:11 am »
Prologue+ NAME + Tetra Phaedras + ALIAS + Tetra, Dr. Phaedras, Teddy (Will respond with thorough unamusement) + AGE + Unknown, appears to be in 30’s + GENDER + Male + STAR SIGN + + BORN + Year’s End, he’s loathe to celebrate it + ORIGIN + Tynova + SPECIES + Humanoid, probably. + RESIDENCE + TRIM, An awesome apartment in Aedolis + OCCUPATION + Psychiatrist / TRIM Scientist + COUNTENANCE + Dark brown hair / One ice-blue eye and one red eye + STATURE + 6’2” / 189 lbs. + SEXUALITY + Unknown CH. I – Painting a PortraitTall with a firm build, his figure his slender but with no shortage of definitive muscle. He is not, nor has he ever been a soldier, for that’s never been a profession he has considered worthy of his time. His visage is stern and rather stoic, cheekbones slender and nose thin and pointed. Tetra takes great pains to maintain his appearance, which can made him appear more prim and proper than he really is. With hair somewhat longer than most, long enough to be slicked back, or tied up in a small ponytail. His heterochromatic eyes are intelligent and gleam beautifully in darkness and stellar light, one of blue, one of red. Although one of them however, is not the eye he was born with. His left eye is slightly darker than his right, in fact, it is almost completely red. It is a device, in fact, that implanted itself into his skull in one of the TRIM labs in his early days of working for the corporation. It was an accident, to be sure, but Tetra would rather not discuss his unusual eye, as the device has taken adapting itself more toward his natural eye-color, even with whites around the it. On official record, the device has since been written off as a failure and subsequently destroyed. + NOTABLE MARKS + A long cut runs underneath his left forearm, where he had previously defended himself against an unruly patient. He is not proud of it and keeps it bandaged. Although he possesses the means to fix it, he would rather not. It is a reminder to be wary and keep others at arm’s length. CH II – Mental Make-upIntelligent, astute, witty, sharp-tongued, idiosyncratic, logical, cold, and prick, are all words that have been used to describe Dr. Tetra Phaedras. While he is a psychiatrist, he doesn’t seem to treat his patients with any sort of attachment. It’s not that he doesn’t feel concern, it’s simply that coddling a patient does nothing to help him. That isn’t to say he doesn’t care, but a professional and personal distance must be maintained. He takes his job and duty to TRIM serious, or as serious as a cynical realist could be about such things. He doesn’t suffer anything he considers a waste of time, and there are few things that aren’t. He has thrown his life into his work, in studying the mind and various facets of consciousness. He likes to conduct psychological tests that further his research, and even use experimental drugs on some of the subjects he is counseling. And if it helps someone in the proncess, then that is surely a bonus. However, deep down he sees the latter as a means of bolstering his own pride. Tetra is good at what he does and knows it. He is also a bit of a neat freak. Cleanliness is next to sanity, as the saying goes. A place for everything and everything in its place. His mannerisms are trim, direct, and if anything, coldly polite. + FAITH +Never has nor will ever be religious. He respects people’s right to believe as they choose, even if he looks down at them for it. + HABITS +Enjoys tea, hard liquor, morning meditation, and yoga. Also dabbles in light artistry. And a workaholic. CH III – Social + RELATIONSHIPS +Several professional relationships/acquaintances and none that he would consider personal. Probably the reason he’s so uptight. CH IV – Abilities / Skills+ MIND LEAP +A skill that has long run in his family, Tetra can project his consciousness into the minds of others and traverse their thoughts and influence them. He has always been able to do this, even as a child. If the target is sleeping or in a hypnotic state, Tetra can remain inert and project himself in that way. He can also do it when the intended target is awake and alert. Most minds are maze templates as Tetra was come to understand it, which he has taken to mapping out and memorizing based on certain personality traits. To keep the target from realizing something is amiss, Tetra assumes parts of their personality traits or quirks. But sometimes spending too much time in the mind of the mad has made the good Dr. Phaedras a little…twitchy. -Coupled with his gift, the sentient machine that overtook his left eye. It can communicate with him, and when it does, he may only reply back aloud, often appearing as if he’s talking to himself. It gives him the ability to ‘hack’ any computer device, VR, digital, encoded, encrypted, or otherwise, and survey and control it, if necessary. The device can also shoot out beams of energy, capable of ripping through any material. CH V – Gear / Equipment+ SENTIENT EYE +Created in a TRIM lab, and a horrible accident found its way into his eye. It is a powerful self-aware machine, that aims to connect to any electronic within an immediate, or even distant vicinity. It has some minor advantages. Tetra can check his email without opening his phone, that’s always nice. Oh and shooting lasers. That’s handy too. CH VI – Reflections of the PastAlthough born in Tynova, Tetra had a typical, if not boring upbringing. Uneventful, tragically suffocating, and with little to show for it, but an excellent education, good health, and all the right connections. He began work for TRIM as a psychiatrist, giving subjects a means of some mental relief, although he was surprised that many of them still had plenty to say about their mothers and fathers, and all the affection they did or didn’t give them. He is a psychiatrist not only for subjects, but much of the staff as well. It wasn’t a job Tetra initially wanted. Working for a corporation as large and demanding as TRIm left little room to be in charge of his own practices. But the pay was stellar and work was steady. At times, he becomes flippant about his task, but he was not always this way. There was a time where the feelings of sympathy he’d been trying most of his life to avoid leaked out of him in spurts. The first year of working for TRIM left his left arm scarred when a subject grew irate and attacked him with a makeshift shiv. He’d been more careless then, opting out of extra guards, and refusing to push new TRIM drugs on patients. While most others would quit after that, he stayed on, after a significant pay raise, of course. He’s much more careful now, and prescribes those new TRIM drugs for those lovely year-end bonuses.
84
« on: April 11, 2015, 04:40:44 pm »
Prologue + NAME + Trevan Ander + ALIAS + Trev, “Howler” + AGE + 25 + GENDER + Male + STAR SIGN + The Claw + BORN + Mid-Summer + ORIGIN + Vhanhelis, Aedolis + SPECIES + Human + RESIDENCE + Haviah, Aedolis, but travels from time to time + OCCUPATION + Vigilante / Ass-kicker + COUNTENANCE + Dark blue hair / Hazel-red eyes + STATURE + 6’2” / 188 lbs. + SEXUALITY + Unknown CH. I – Painting a PortraitA slim brow encompasses his eyes, with low eye brows and deep set eyes. Trevan knows that if he were a pop star, he could get anybody he wanted with his eyes alone, as unique as they are. If he cared to do so that was. He’s a well-built athlete so to speak. What he does in his recreational time does require a great deal of athletic ability. He has a few scars here and there, scuffs and scrapes from injuries while ‘on the job’, but they’re not something he brags about. His hair is roughly cut, scraggly on his head, but always pushed back and out of his face. His lips are thin, and when they grin, they stretch out wide, almost in mocking amusement. But most of the people don’t get to see his face when he wears his mask. + NOTABLE MARKS + Nothing particularly special, save for a small helix-like birthmark on his lower back. CH II – Mental Make-upTrev is used to thinking on his feet, and has learned to become slippery enough to get out of trouble by the skin of his teeth. He’s highly adaptive, knowing when to stand out, and when to slink by as if he were supposed to be there all along. Trev can’t be sure how to describe himself, and he tries not to think about any sort of moral code to what he does, other than a “Somebody’s gotta do it” thought process. Despite Aedolan culture in general, Trev despises corruption, the corporate and military bigwigs that think they can push their weight around with impunity. He’s taken it upon himself to become a masked crusader of a sort, and to take out the trash – cleaning out drug dens and killing the goons of crime lords. It’s thankless work, and he tries not to take much satisfaction out of it, but there is something a bit satisfying about popping a few melons in here and there. A fact he would never acknowledge, he feeds off that violence, that brutality, and he fears discovering that part of himself exists more than just his ‘night job’. Aside from that, Trev is sarcastic and snarky, not afraid of conflict, but he picks and chooses his battles. When he’s in his alter-ego, there is no hesitation, but in every day life he’s more careful about the decisions he makes. He doesn’t like to be conspicuous, not any more than he has to be. + FAITH +N/A + HABITS +Smokes and drinks a little, but doesn’t care to partake in any drugs or other such paraphernalia. He does enjoy reading however, secretly. Oh and making bad ass weapons. CH III – Social + RELATIONSHIPS +Ursula Ander – Mother, dead. Andreyev Ander – Father, dead. CH IV – Abilities / Skills+ VIGILANTE +He fights, kills, and maims his way through the criminal underworld, preferring to be quiet than running through with a hail of bullets before him, since sometimes you don’t have that option. He takes what he does seriously, and has trained and conditioned his body to move at a moment’s notice, and take great punishment. He’s nimble, athletic, and quite good at acrobatics – he can duck, dive, roll, and flip with the best of them. He’s also quite good at hand to hand fighting, having a rough and heavy style to it. + MECHANICAL ENTHUSIAST +Trev makes most of his own gear, since weapons are illegal in Aedolis, using what other people consider mundane items. He’s meticulous and enjoys fiddling around with small mechanics and gears and wires and welding them all together. CH V – Gear / Equipment+ SAW SWORD +A particularly vicious looking chainsaw like weapon, with an extended hand on the end that allows it be wielded like a sword. It has a small engine that turns on with the pressure of his hand squeezing the hilt. He also carries a mask and a backpack full of gear and an assortment of other weapons just in case. CH VI – Reflections of the PastHe was the son between a corporate business man and his secretary. It was a relationship not meant to last, not that it was encouraged to do so anyway. He was left in his mother’s care, though she had to keep him a secret from her other boyfriend – a crime boss named Regulus Farrow, that eventually found about the affair. He wasn’t one to share and when Trevan was just a child, he witnessed his mother tortured and murdered, her body thrown out like the day’s garbage. He tried to run away to his father, but Farrow’s men found him too, and killed him. No one did a damn thing about it, either, for Farrow had important friends in important places that kept untouchable. Eventually, someone did away with him – Farrow was not well liked – and threw his body parts all over the Midhaven, or so Trevan later learned. Trevan was left to his own devices, robbed of his chance for revenge and grew up on the mean streets of metropolisi Vhanhelis, a smaller city much like Haviah, and took all sorts of odd jobs, eventually learning a mechanic’s trade, dabbling in electronics, and moved to Haviah after scraping by, just enough to live day by day. But life was no better there. You had to be in the military if you wanted to live big, or had more money than you could count. It wasn’t that that made him upset, no, he saw the thugs that came around small corner stores, the drugs they pushed around, and all the people that were hurt by it. Nobody cared who got hurt as long as the money kept coming in, and people knew their place. It was an accident really, how it all went down. He had come across a couple of thugs beating up a woman in an alleyway and he ran in and saved her. But it was too late. The damage had been done and she died before she could receive proper medical care. He felt sick to his stomach, and followed those thugs to their hide out. He broke in and dismantled their establishment, leaving no survivors. Trevan took it upon himself then to take out the trash, and donned a mask – a wolf mask he calls Howler. ThreadsLet Me Be Your Lipstick
85
« on: March 23, 2015, 02:26:05 am »
[Silice!]
Ugh, she was sick of all the drunk skunks that showed up for training. As if they didn’t have anything better to do with their time. Sure, it was understandable that they might get a little overwhelmed with the entire process. But if they weren’t careful, one minor mark against them could have them shipped off to Thanatos to be a little testing monkey for them! And Gavrian would have no sympathy for any fool that could not handle walking two steps in front of them because they were still drunk from the night before!
Oh, she wished she didn’t have to deal with stupid candidates. And that was why she more than relished her time alone, even if it did get boring sometimes. Of course, ideally, she’d much rather be on a mission than hanging around Haviah like some of the hobos she saw lingering EVERYWHERE.
Gavrian looked at the men gawking at her, half of them high or drunk out of their minds, and she audibly scoffed. She made a left and walked into the building nearest her, a bar. Maybe she wasn’t into the bar scene, but it was quiet and at least here she could mull her thoughts without being bothered, and get a hot meal. A nice sandwich! Yes, that would set her nerves.
She took her meal from the counter and walked over to a nice cozy corner. Hard music played in the background and most people seemed content to mind their own business. Good, this was nice. This was better. It was better than drinking water since that was all she had all morning and afternoon.
She actually smiled - not that she’d ever let people see it! - to herself and mulled over the events of the morning. Whipping trainees into shape did have some small rewards, when they actually listened, and made progress. In fact, some –-
Gavrian’s eyes flickered to the door, as a small group of men came into the bar. "Today’'s the day Barney!" the first man said. His mohawk was green and black, and the shaved sides of either side of his head were tattooed in obscene shapes. The cut off sleeves of his jacket were splayed and tattered and studs ran down his back in a zig-zag shape. The others in lieu of him were also as tattered and mean looking as this guy was, but his height, stance, and the fact that he was in front of the rest of them clearly indicated he was the leader of his ratpack.
The bartender stepped back, putting his hands up. "Aw shit, Skav, not this again!"
Skav knocked on the glass counter with a fist and gave Barney a toothy smile. “I'm afraid it is, old pal. You better pay up if you know what’'s good for ya.”
"For what!? Protection money my ass! The only people I need protection from is you!”
"Listen here, dumb fuck. You're gonna give us that money unless you want a little incident like last week to happen again. And if you ain't got it, we can just be on our merry little way. No need to fuss about the whole deal. I’m a business man, I can understand."
Barney looked like he believed the man. He even relaxed his shoulders a little and didn’t know which thug he ought to focus his eyes on first. “You mean that?"
“As honest as my mother’s name’s Rylin,” Skav said, putting his hand up.
Barney sighed. “I ain’t got it, Skav. Everybody goes to Syn! Nobody comes into this dump!”
“For fuck's sake, Barney! Good thing my mother’s name is really Demi!” And his fist came smashing into the bartender’s face.
86
« on: March 15, 2015, 05:54:12 pm »
Prologue+ NAME + Gavrian Levansky + ALIAS + Gavri if you want to torture her + AGE + 27 + GENDER + Female + STAR SIGN + The Thorn + BORN + Mid-Year + ORIGIN + Haviah, Aedolis + SPECIES + Human + RESIDENCE + Aedolis, likes to travel + OCCUPATION + Pilot + COUNTENANCE + Red hair w/ Black streaks / Gray Eyes + STATURE + 5’8” / 122 lbs. + SEXUALITY + Heterosexual CH. I – Painting a PortraitWhile Gavrian is not the most physically imposing woman in all of Aedolis, what she lacks in stature, she more than makes up for in attitude and determination. She carries herself like someone who knows what they’re doing and won’t take any crap from someone telling her that she can’t do something. At average height for a woman, she would describe herself as fairly plain, with a small bust, and really nothing to boast about. Her eyes are rather piercing, however, an icy gray that stands out more than she would prefer. Physically she is athletic in build, and she tries to maintain by running, an exercise she enjoys doing alone, and high intensity cardio. She can fight with the best of them, and is not afraid to prove it. + NOTABLE MARKS + She has a branding on the back of her right shoulder of a dragon catching prey. CH II – Mental Make-upThe first thing people tend to notice about Gavrian is most definitely her temper. She gets steamed pretty fast, even about little things. She tries her best to control her temper, and her patience, often to little avail. Happy go lucky just isn’t her style, and it certainly irritates her when it’s other people’s. And it’s definitely NOT the right attitude to have when on a mission! There’s a time to be play and a time to be serious and they should never coincide. She enjoys her work as a Pilot however, both on her dragon, and commandeering solo spacecraft. In addition, she doesn’t really have the social skills to be considered a people person. More often than not she is blunt and to the point. And she hates filing formal paper work even more. She isn’t exactly popular with her peers or her superiors for that matter. While it’s immaterial to her what they think, what does matter her performance. She leaves no room for doubt that she’s a damn good Pilot, one of the best, and she can be counted on when needed. While others might not like talking to her, there’s no one else they’d rather have at their back. + FAITH +She isn’t nearly as hedonistic as Aedolan culture encourages, and listening to pop stars makes her ears bleed. She does like to have a good beer every now and again. In fact too much fun, can be a bad thing, in her book. But she generally keeps such thoughts to herself. + HABITS +No nonsense, stubborn, are the only things she’d consider to be her vices. She has smoked here and there, but it isn’t her thing. CH III – Social + RELATIONSHIPS +Darren Levansky, Father, Doctor, Alive, 43 Branda Moore, Mother, Mechanic, Alive, 50 Brandon Moore, Twin Brother, Deceased, 23 Caliban – Biomech Dragon- Rawr! (WIP) CH IV – Abilities / Skills+ PSYCHIC +A strong telekinetic and telepath, gifts she discovered at a young age but told no one about, fearing being shipped off to the military. But when her father found out she could, he insisted that she go, to make something of herself. But he wouldn’t force her. She volunteered herself at the age of fifteen and has been a Pilot ever since. Her abilities have been honed to create heatwaves, a psionic reaction that sends out blasts of energy that when they impact a target will disintegrate the material like a knife through butter. She can also create small temporary force fields to protect herself if necessary. *She’s also a decent crack shot with a pistol, and a rifle. CH V – Gear / Equipment*TBA CH VI – Reflections of the PastBorn to a middle-class family, raised largely by her father, a doctor named Darren Levansky, Gavrian had a fairly basic childhood. She only vaguely remembered her mother and her brother was killed at 23, a Scout in the Aedolian military. She always resented the government because of that, and she does not look forward to her birthday because of it, feeling something is missing. Her parents never lived together, but she always felt closer to her father than her mom, as they barely spoke or had contact of any kind until she joined the military at age 15. She remains close to her father, a rare commodity in times like these and despite Aedolan culture, emailing or calling him at least once a day. THREADSHey There Pretty Mama Let Me Whisper in Your Ear
87
« on: March 03, 2015, 07:00:10 pm »
Ahh!
It felt so good to finally breathe unfiltered air. He didn’t know how long it’d been since the last time he’d been ‘outside’ in the real world, but all that mattered was that it was here and it was his. He’d made it, he was out of that blasted facility. The only thing that would’ve made it sweeter were if it had blown up or suffered some crippling accident in the process. But Cal took his hand where he could.
Fugitives could only afford to be so picky.
Despite his current setting, Cal wasn’t dumb enough yet to think he was home free. He’d only been here a day and already he was sick of ducking his head down. He had to find a way to get off this space station and fast. But with nothing more than the clothes on his back and the credits he’d managed to pickpocket and the cellphone he tucked away, he didn’t have much in the way of offering payment for a ride.
Much less even knew where he wanted to go. Well, he supposed anywhere as far away from TRIM was good enough for him. And if someone asked, Aedolis. Because hey, why not!? Maybe, it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to head back to the old stomping ground, see if any of his old contacts were still around…
Calixte vanished easily through the crowd. The docking bays were sprawled all over the space station, no reason guards had to be everywhere at once. The best thing to do was to just play it cool. Going haywire wasn’t going to do him any good. And the last thing he wanted was to end up from once cell right back into another.
But when he saw two “Reds” walking behind him, seemingly in his general direction, Cal turned around into Docking Bay 1435. The very thought sent the hackles standing on end on the back of his neck. Were they following him? He couldn’t tell. Just when he looked over his shoulder, his body collided with a dock worker, knocking him over.
“Watch where you’re going, scum mucker!” she spat, climbing to her feet.
Fuck! If anything was going to get the Reds’ attention, that sure was!
Cal wasted no time apologizing and moved around stacks of cargo, caches and crates, and took a hat from someone’s head that was busy jotting something over a clipboard and a leather jacket left hanging beside a work station and flung it over his shoulders. He leaned over another man’s shoulder, feeling the Reds coming closer to where he was.
He looked at the corner of his eye and saw the two of them conversing with a dock manager, and one pointed off in his direction. Fuuuuuuck….. Calixte threw the collar of the jacket up, to partly conceal his face and walked cooly up the ramp of the ship nearest him. The two Reds called after him, barking a sharp, “Hey you!”
But he didn’t hear them. OBVIOUSLY! Got important crew business to get to! As soon as he was on board, Cal scrambled off to the side, banking right and thankfully finding the ship largely empty…or so he assumed…and ran off down the corridor. When he found the cargo hold, he scrambled left and threw himself behind a set of crates, hearing boots boarding the ship.
88
« on: February 26, 2015, 12:05:11 pm »
I only have one character at the moment, a former TRIM Subject that somehow managed to escape (Don't ask how, it's super secret!) and now he's on the run! Calixte Theroux is a flighty man that trusts NO ONE! But that doesn't mean he isn't up for a good time, or evading those out to capture him.
I can realistically see someone looking out for him and trying to bring him back to TRIM. There's also plenty potential plots of his days as a subject. He's also up for just plain ol' trouble and shenanigans.
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« on: February 25, 2015, 10:09:25 pm »
Prologue+ NAME + Calixte Theroux + ALIAS + Cal, + AGE + Approx. 28 -30 + GENDER + Male + STAR SIGN + Unknown + BORN + Unknown + ORIGIN + Aedolis + SPECIES + Human + RESIDENCE + TRIM, Alpha Wing, Now anywhere else! + OCCUPATION + Former TRIM subject, Now a Runaway + COUNTENANCE + Gray-Blue Eyes / Black hair w/ blue streaks + STATURE + 6’1” / 187 lbs. + SEXUALITY + Bisexual CH. I – Painting a PortraitDevilishly good looking would be an understatement in his mind. He has rugged features, often sporting stubble, though he prefers to be clean shaven if he can help it. His hair is shaved along the sides of his head and angled down to the back and hair longer on top, usually pushed back and kept out of his face. With nothing much else to do in his cell during downtime, he busied himself with staying in shape. He’s well-muscled at a decent 187 pounds and standing at a good 6’1”. + NOTABLE MARKS + Cal has some testing scars along his back and arms when he first was brought to TRIM. It’s quite evident his resistance wasn’t fondly looked upon. He also has tribal-style tattoos on his upper right shoulder, that almost look like the inner workings of a clock when examined closely. He also has a set of three earrings on his left ear. CH II – PersonaCalixte is an expert at playing the fool. He is skilled in making himself out to be less than he is, keeping his mind busy with nonsensical things in order to divert people trying to read his mind. He’s hedonistic and enjoys biting sarcasm, prone to mood swings. He isn’t very philosophical, to him the only things that matter in this world are what’s real, what’s around you, and not wasting life while you have it in your hands. He’s quite vain, not quite deservedly so, but holds himself highly never the less. As far as opinions go, his are usually gold. + HABITS +He’s a smoker, much to the chagrin of the scientists that would prefer he quit. CH III – Social + RELATIONSHIPS + *TBA CH IV – Abilities / Skills+ ELECTROMAGNETISM +Cal is acutely aware and sensitive to the electromagnetic energy and pulses within living beings. He can respond to that energy, channel it and manipulate it in forms such as helping heal others by manipulating that field, sending a jolt to restart a heart, or providing relief from pain. Once, he could’ve manipulated his own field powerful enough to send out a EMP-like wave, capable of knocking out electronic devices as complex as entire space stations. But becoming a TRIM test subject has dulled his abilities. In many ways the tests of helped him learn to hone his abilities, focusing it and channeling into more minute, but concentrated forms. He can create small but powerful bolts of electromagnetic energy that come out like sparks. He may also push out his own energy in a shockwave like effect to push others away. While no longer as potent to knock out space stations, he’s still capable of healing and disrupting smaller electronic devices. CH V – Gear / EquipmentHis Smokes dammit! CH VI – Reflections of the PastCalixte remembers vaguely what his life was before being transported to TRIM. He might’ve been a pilot, or a soldier of some kind, he can’t be sure. But he does know he was a smuggler and was making good money in Aedolis before a job gone wrong had left him for dead. When he was found by his employer, in order to wipe their hands clean of him, promptly sold him to TRIM for a decent load of money. In that respect, he was glad he sold for so much. It didn’t take long for them to break him however, or so he led them to believe. THREADSRaiders of the Last Potato ChipPerlious Cargo of a Mercurial Nature
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