04-08-2009, 03:25 AM
Name: Cerion
Age: 21
Race: Drak’thari / Drak’tharian [Generic] (either is good)
Sex: Male
Starting Planet: Mercy
Profession: Assassin
Fighting Style: Cunning
Short Bio: Once upon a time, there was a planet by the name Drak’thar. The planet was still ruled by a monarch – the king Xion and was infamous for its’ cruel way of training their warriors, as they were trained from just the age of six. The father of the child should be the trainer, and if he did not train his son well enough, the family would forever be cast in shame, because that was the ways of the Drak’tharian people. This custom was even more brutal for the nobles, who could be trained from as early as the age of two. However, as always...the experienced differed depending on the family.
Unfortunately, the pressure on the young warriors finally got the better of them. There was a large family on Drak’thar that had decided to train all their sons together at the same time. However, the teachers pushed them to hard, and at the age of seventeen, they snapped and fought against their teachers - and won. They immediately fled from their village, but they were chased the second their feet touched the ground outside the town. The shame of having a weak child which could not stand the pressure was devastating for a Drak’thari parent, so they wished to bring back the children in order to toughen them up and then continue training, seeing as how they failed.
However, it seemed the fugitive teenagers were hardly failed, as they defeated most of the fighters sent after them and hid from the ones they couldn’t. It seemed as if there was no hope to cure the stain upon the Drak’tharian culture, until finally came the birth of Cerion and Yamato.
Cousins, born into a noble family, just mere hours away from each other, they were also trained in a group by both of their fathers in shifts. As they grew older and hit the eighteen year old marker, they were given an assignment to show how much they had grown. The village still hadn’t forgotten how they lost a handful of fighters, which even eventually proved quite capable, so they send the cousins to capture the teenage fugitives, which in the meantime had grown older. No-one actually surely knew where they resided, but the fathers of Cerion and Yamato did not care. They wanted the honour of the catch to be their sons’ and their family’s.
And so the two set out on their journey, travelling between many towns and cities, until eventually they found one glimmer of hope. After several months of searching, they finally found a man who said he knew the location of the fugitives, following his directions; they came to a derelict building far out in the wastes, most probably from a dead generation of Drak’thari history. With little but a smile to each other, they smashed open the door and charged in. About to reveal their intentions, they were dumbstruck by the man in front of them; Drake, the nephew of Drak’thar’s King. Hesitating, the cousins decided it would be better to hear out Drake...
The discussion didn’t last long, and by then the cousins had made their mind up. They would report the fugitives as untraceable, and share in the punishment of the king’s nephew; Exile from their home planet. They were almost ready to go, but Cerion insisted on ‘thoroughly testing the ships’, but in honesty he was re-thinking it. He wouldn’t have won in an discussion with both Drake and Yamato, but now he was having second thoughts, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. It was futile, he realized, as his cousin came over to help him check the ship and Cerion gave up. Together the three men left, in search of a new life in the far regions of space...but all wouldn’t go as intended. The two cousins were separated from Drake by a cosmic current, throwing them off in a different direction...
With the ships they had been supplied with, escaping this pull would be impossible, so they allowed it to take them wherever it may. Fate would have it they landed on a planet which was not totally unfamiliar. On Drak’thar, there were several desert regions that were uninhabitable by their people...the people on the planet of Mercy however, had managed to adapt, and now 2 years later, so had the cousins as they settled down in one of Mercy’s many domes, the sphere of darkness at Illium’s Shame.
General Description: Resembles a humanoid, although carries a rather unique iris colour, being blood-red, the same colour as his hair is. This Drak’thari carries a slight toned figure, being around the 6’0” in height, but still not toned enough to stand out from a crowd. No scars on the face, although the entire upper area of the Drak’thari’s body is filled with scars of all sorts and kinds. His normal clothing is usually some black pants, a black shirt and a black jacket.
Starting Abilities: Psychokinesis and immaterial.
Trait: Bully
Stats:
Role-play Sample: The sun, or whatever planet that seemed to illuminate the desert planet, Mercy, was slowly doing its work. Cerion was following the many shadows that seemed to form, as each ray of light hit the various sand bunkers. The bounty hunter adjusted his “vest”; in reality, it had been a jacket, but he soon realized a real jacket was just too hot. His usual pale skin had gotten a nice tan, making all the scars on his arms less apparent. The heat wasn’t the most bothersome thing for him, however, it was the sand. He had sand everywhere. There wasn’t one day where he wouldn’t clean an object of his of sand. Even now, as he was watching sand get blown around across the surface of the illuminated ground, all the bounty hunter could think of, was the fact some of it was definitely going into his shoes. A shiver went down his spine; he could already feel the small grain of sands in between his toes.
“This desert is getting to me”, Cerion sighed, as he started rummaging in the pockets of his black pants. Unlike his jacket, he had not adjusted his pants at all – he refused to wear shorts. He pulled out a rolled document and unrolled it, peering at it. It appeared to be an article of some sort, to be exact an article of a murder. The title was ‘Man died in horrible Accident’, and it was written by a certain well-known member of one of the domes on Mercy. Normal people would just see it as an article, but Cerion knew what it was. To ensure that his enemies would not be able to know who he was hunting, he had requested to write it in some code. The bounty hunter was astonished by his cleverness, but he quickly found out that it was a useless system. Anyone with half-a-brain could figure it out, so now the method was only used so that Cerion could deny the order, simply by saying It was a mere article.
Yet another sigh escaped the bounty hunter’s lips, but it quickly dissipated in the cheery voice of his partner, Hjate, smacking him happily on the shoulder.
“I’m going to go on a limb here, and say that’s a job. What’s the pay?” asked Hjate, trying to get a peek at the document, but Cerion just folded it together and stuffed it in his pocket with a smirk.
“Horrible – as per usual. This should be a bit more interesting however; we will need to do this in broad daylight, and it needs to be an accident.” Hjate nearly choked, “In broad daylight and it has to be an accident? Please tell me the guy has some hazardous job?”
A slight laughter erupted from Cerion, as the bounty hunter immediately took up the scroll and handed it to Hjate, letting him read himself. “Ah yes, Hjate, it is indeed the most hazardous job ever” he said, before starting to walk away, letting Hjate finally figure out why he was laughing. “He’s a school teacher?!” Hjate exclaimed, before looking up from the scroll and noticing his partner had vanished. “Hey man, wait up!”
His partner smirked as he halted, waiting for Hjate to come up by his side. They were right in the middle of the dome; people were walking down the streets in their usual routine. Cerion and Hjate all scanned them; you never knew when someone you were hunting sent hunters after you. It was always a slight game of mouse and cat. “So, do we have a plan yet, Cer?” Cerion muttered a bit, before raising his voice, “well, I was thinking we might stick a ruler through his eye, say he tripped on it, but doubt that’d be believable…”
((Hi! I most likely did something wrong, but this was the best I could come with after asking around a bit. (I am Krig, the guy who asked some moderator a few questions in PM a loooong time ago. Took me this long to kick my friend's rear in gear to join with me!))
Age: 21
Race: Drak’thari / Drak’tharian [Generic] (either is good)
Sex: Male
Starting Planet: Mercy
Profession: Assassin
Fighting Style: Cunning
Short Bio: Once upon a time, there was a planet by the name Drak’thar. The planet was still ruled by a monarch – the king Xion and was infamous for its’ cruel way of training their warriors, as they were trained from just the age of six. The father of the child should be the trainer, and if he did not train his son well enough, the family would forever be cast in shame, because that was the ways of the Drak’tharian people. This custom was even more brutal for the nobles, who could be trained from as early as the age of two. However, as always...the experienced differed depending on the family.
Unfortunately, the pressure on the young warriors finally got the better of them. There was a large family on Drak’thar that had decided to train all their sons together at the same time. However, the teachers pushed them to hard, and at the age of seventeen, they snapped and fought against their teachers - and won. They immediately fled from their village, but they were chased the second their feet touched the ground outside the town. The shame of having a weak child which could not stand the pressure was devastating for a Drak’thari parent, so they wished to bring back the children in order to toughen them up and then continue training, seeing as how they failed.
However, it seemed the fugitive teenagers were hardly failed, as they defeated most of the fighters sent after them and hid from the ones they couldn’t. It seemed as if there was no hope to cure the stain upon the Drak’tharian culture, until finally came the birth of Cerion and Yamato.
Cousins, born into a noble family, just mere hours away from each other, they were also trained in a group by both of their fathers in shifts. As they grew older and hit the eighteen year old marker, they were given an assignment to show how much they had grown. The village still hadn’t forgotten how they lost a handful of fighters, which even eventually proved quite capable, so they send the cousins to capture the teenage fugitives, which in the meantime had grown older. No-one actually surely knew where they resided, but the fathers of Cerion and Yamato did not care. They wanted the honour of the catch to be their sons’ and their family’s.
And so the two set out on their journey, travelling between many towns and cities, until eventually they found one glimmer of hope. After several months of searching, they finally found a man who said he knew the location of the fugitives, following his directions; they came to a derelict building far out in the wastes, most probably from a dead generation of Drak’thari history. With little but a smile to each other, they smashed open the door and charged in. About to reveal their intentions, they were dumbstruck by the man in front of them; Drake, the nephew of Drak’thar’s King. Hesitating, the cousins decided it would be better to hear out Drake...
The discussion didn’t last long, and by then the cousins had made their mind up. They would report the fugitives as untraceable, and share in the punishment of the king’s nephew; Exile from their home planet. They were almost ready to go, but Cerion insisted on ‘thoroughly testing the ships’, but in honesty he was re-thinking it. He wouldn’t have won in an discussion with both Drake and Yamato, but now he was having second thoughts, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. It was futile, he realized, as his cousin came over to help him check the ship and Cerion gave up. Together the three men left, in search of a new life in the far regions of space...but all wouldn’t go as intended. The two cousins were separated from Drake by a cosmic current, throwing them off in a different direction...
With the ships they had been supplied with, escaping this pull would be impossible, so they allowed it to take them wherever it may. Fate would have it they landed on a planet which was not totally unfamiliar. On Drak’thar, there were several desert regions that were uninhabitable by their people...the people on the planet of Mercy however, had managed to adapt, and now 2 years later, so had the cousins as they settled down in one of Mercy’s many domes, the sphere of darkness at Illium’s Shame.
General Description: Resembles a humanoid, although carries a rather unique iris colour, being blood-red, the same colour as his hair is. This Drak’thari carries a slight toned figure, being around the 6’0” in height, but still not toned enough to stand out from a crowd. No scars on the face, although the entire upper area of the Drak’thari’s body is filled with scars of all sorts and kinds. His normal clothing is usually some black pants, a black shirt and a black jacket.
Starting Abilities: Psychokinesis and immaterial.
Trait: Bully
Stats:
- Strength: 25%
- Focus: 25%
- Endurance: 20%
- Agility: 30%
Role-play Sample: The sun, or whatever planet that seemed to illuminate the desert planet, Mercy, was slowly doing its work. Cerion was following the many shadows that seemed to form, as each ray of light hit the various sand bunkers. The bounty hunter adjusted his “vest”; in reality, it had been a jacket, but he soon realized a real jacket was just too hot. His usual pale skin had gotten a nice tan, making all the scars on his arms less apparent. The heat wasn’t the most bothersome thing for him, however, it was the sand. He had sand everywhere. There wasn’t one day where he wouldn’t clean an object of his of sand. Even now, as he was watching sand get blown around across the surface of the illuminated ground, all the bounty hunter could think of, was the fact some of it was definitely going into his shoes. A shiver went down his spine; he could already feel the small grain of sands in between his toes.
“This desert is getting to me”, Cerion sighed, as he started rummaging in the pockets of his black pants. Unlike his jacket, he had not adjusted his pants at all – he refused to wear shorts. He pulled out a rolled document and unrolled it, peering at it. It appeared to be an article of some sort, to be exact an article of a murder. The title was ‘Man died in horrible Accident’, and it was written by a certain well-known member of one of the domes on Mercy. Normal people would just see it as an article, but Cerion knew what it was. To ensure that his enemies would not be able to know who he was hunting, he had requested to write it in some code. The bounty hunter was astonished by his cleverness, but he quickly found out that it was a useless system. Anyone with half-a-brain could figure it out, so now the method was only used so that Cerion could deny the order, simply by saying It was a mere article.
Yet another sigh escaped the bounty hunter’s lips, but it quickly dissipated in the cheery voice of his partner, Hjate, smacking him happily on the shoulder.
“I’m going to go on a limb here, and say that’s a job. What’s the pay?” asked Hjate, trying to get a peek at the document, but Cerion just folded it together and stuffed it in his pocket with a smirk.
“Horrible – as per usual. This should be a bit more interesting however; we will need to do this in broad daylight, and it needs to be an accident.” Hjate nearly choked, “In broad daylight and it has to be an accident? Please tell me the guy has some hazardous job?”
A slight laughter erupted from Cerion, as the bounty hunter immediately took up the scroll and handed it to Hjate, letting him read himself. “Ah yes, Hjate, it is indeed the most hazardous job ever” he said, before starting to walk away, letting Hjate finally figure out why he was laughing. “He’s a school teacher?!” Hjate exclaimed, before looking up from the scroll and noticing his partner had vanished. “Hey man, wait up!”
His partner smirked as he halted, waiting for Hjate to come up by his side. They were right in the middle of the dome; people were walking down the streets in their usual routine. Cerion and Hjate all scanned them; you never knew when someone you were hunting sent hunters after you. It was always a slight game of mouse and cat. “So, do we have a plan yet, Cer?” Cerion muttered a bit, before raising his voice, “well, I was thinking we might stick a ruler through his eye, say he tripped on it, but doubt that’d be believable…”
((Hi! I most likely did something wrong, but this was the best I could come with after asking around a bit. (I am Krig, the guy who asked some moderator a few questions in PM a loooong time ago. Took me this long to kick my friend's rear in gear to join with me!))
![[Image: A18Oct.jpg]](http://frozendust.com/sig/A18/A18Oct.jpg)