So...here he is. Alien Nico Robin.
Name: Diaemus Fyrell
Role: Historian, Loremaster
Age: Unknown, most likely around 1900 + the 36 years of his life before death. The Necroses are immortal.
Gender: Male
Race: Necrosis (Any biomechanically resurrected life-form. In essence, a cyborg zombie.)
Appearance
A grotesque man whose very presence exudes fear or at least disgust, Diaemus is a man resurrected through unnatural scientific means and it is apparent. Standing at a respectable 6'3" (though often hunching over), he retains the muscular build he presumably had in life, but his cracked skin is deathly green and pale like a victim of a N'Qari Deathbringer's venom. Whatever hair he had in life was lost and many of his extremities have been fitted or outright replaced by mechanical prostheses. Notably on his back is a mechanism attached to his spine. This is what sustains his body, constantly producing and pumping in a chemical known as n-0-x (Nox) into his system.
Diaemus rarely wears anything to cover his upper body, only opting for a pair of black trousers, the same pair he has been wearing for his entire (un)life. But it is fine since Necroses do not have bodily functions and cannot produce waste and thus, do not have the body odor of which is expected from a normal person. He has trouble walking (and standing up straight), so you might find him carrying around a staff with green gemstones on its tip, almost the same height as him.
Personality
There are few people that can claim to know the man known as Diaemus well. A mysterious and impersonal figure, he is first and foremost a seeker of knowledge. He has a deep-set drive to learn all the secrets this humble galaxy has to offer and with his functional immortality, that may well be possible. To that end he is willing to do most anything, explaining why he is on board with a crew of space pirates and not, say, sanctioned privateers. He does not shy away from conversations and is surprisingly good company. Centuries of (un)life has not dulled his human need for socialization. He does have a tendency towards patronizing and pessimism, but never to the point of discomforting others. Diaemus's main social skill is knowing how not to piss off people.
The memory of a man almost two millennia old is not to be underestimated. Diaemus is well versed in the lore of several systems in the galaxy. He has witnessed rises and falls of civilization, the first steps of evolution, war and peace. To witness such things in a lifetime would surely make one uncaring and jaded, but he retains what most others have already forsaken: spirit and humanity. In an ever-growing universe where it is easy to be apathetic, Diaemus is hell-bent on keeping legacies remembered, even if by just one memory.
Biography
Diaemus Fyrell was once a humble student from the Lexicon Sector, the renowned 'School Worlds' for the entire system and its planets was a hub of knowledge; one gargantuan university. He was born there, like his parents, and inevitably studied there, like his parents, studying the noble art of technomancy. One day, he was given the task of delving the ruins of an abandoned civilization in one of the planets in a nearby system. He and a dozen other students traveled to said planet, but once there were ambushed by Body-Snatchers, slavers feared as bogeymen. Half of the group died defending their freedom and the rest were chained up to be sold to the highest bidder. Diaemus was among those who died, taken before his time at the age of 36.
But that apparently was not the end for him as in the ruins resided something that resembled the mythical 'witch'. With her unholy techno-magic, she resurrected the mangled corpse of Diaemus Fyrell, turning him into a Necrosis, the cyborg undead. Though he was not happy with his new form, it was at least comforting to know that he was alive once again. In gratitude, he swore allegiance to the woman that resurrected him and together they traveled the galaxy, in search of knowledge wherever it may be. It was...funny, really. He owed his unlife to her and yet he spent his years of servitude without knowing her name. She never cared enough to tell him and he in turn never felt the dire need to ask her. Thus he was forced to refer to her (at least mentally) with the ancient Lexiconi word for 'name': Non.
Non and Diaemus went through a lot together, often times having to save each other's lives, but as a Necrosis, he would of course outlive his ward. He continued to travel solo, however, because for one, what else was he to do? Undeath was both a blessing and a curse. But a thousand years of exploration and the hopes of a thousand years more turned out to be the one thing he never knew he desired. To witness history unfold and survive through it was nothing short of perfection. Everything major that he was a witness of, he recorded it into his personal archives, the E.D.D.A. [Exegetic Direct Documentation Archive]. And no facet of history intrigued him more than the Treasure Trove of Captain Nathaniel Flint. Diaemus knew, better than most others, that it existed. The evidence pointing towards it was just there, but 'where' remained a mystery. While he had little use for riches, Non would have been overjoyed to know that her creation managed to find what none others failed to find.
So what Diaemus ended up doing was hopping between crew after crew that desired Flint's Treasure as well. As expected, none succeeded, with most ending prematurely as blaster fodder. The undead man, however, remained a clairvoyant when it came to danger, always slipping away to safety when things looked grim and then going on to try with another crew. With the Leviathan and Captain Lemaire's crew, this makes it his 67th attempt.
Misc.
Diaemus is fluent in basically every language that mattered, making him a prime translator. He's also working on a glamour device that would conceal his hideous form, but a tinkerer he is not. If the crew engineer was willing to help, that would be marvelous.
Does he think Treasure Planet exists?
Most definitely. He has no use for riches, but it is naive to think that such a notorious and proliferous crew wouldn't keep records of what they've achieved. Such records would look great in his E.D.D.A.
Relationships
To be discussed.
Name: Diaemus Fyrell
Role: Historian, Loremaster
Age: Unknown, most likely around 1900 + the 36 years of his life before death. The Necroses are immortal.
Gender: Male
Race: Necrosis (Any biomechanically resurrected life-form. In essence, a cyborg zombie.)
Appearance
A grotesque man whose very presence exudes fear or at least disgust, Diaemus is a man resurrected through unnatural scientific means and it is apparent. Standing at a respectable 6'3" (though often hunching over), he retains the muscular build he presumably had in life, but his cracked skin is deathly green and pale like a victim of a N'Qari Deathbringer's venom. Whatever hair he had in life was lost and many of his extremities have been fitted or outright replaced by mechanical prostheses. Notably on his back is a mechanism attached to his spine. This is what sustains his body, constantly producing and pumping in a chemical known as n-0-x (Nox) into his system.
Diaemus rarely wears anything to cover his upper body, only opting for a pair of black trousers, the same pair he has been wearing for his entire (un)life. But it is fine since Necroses do not have bodily functions and cannot produce waste and thus, do not have the body odor of which is expected from a normal person. He has trouble walking (and standing up straight), so you might find him carrying around a staff with green gemstones on its tip, almost the same height as him.
Personality
There are few people that can claim to know the man known as Diaemus well. A mysterious and impersonal figure, he is first and foremost a seeker of knowledge. He has a deep-set drive to learn all the secrets this humble galaxy has to offer and with his functional immortality, that may well be possible. To that end he is willing to do most anything, explaining why he is on board with a crew of space pirates and not, say, sanctioned privateers. He does not shy away from conversations and is surprisingly good company. Centuries of (un)life has not dulled his human need for socialization. He does have a tendency towards patronizing and pessimism, but never to the point of discomforting others. Diaemus's main social skill is knowing how not to piss off people.
The memory of a man almost two millennia old is not to be underestimated. Diaemus is well versed in the lore of several systems in the galaxy. He has witnessed rises and falls of civilization, the first steps of evolution, war and peace. To witness such things in a lifetime would surely make one uncaring and jaded, but he retains what most others have already forsaken: spirit and humanity. In an ever-growing universe where it is easy to be apathetic, Diaemus is hell-bent on keeping legacies remembered, even if by just one memory.
Biography
Diaemus Fyrell was once a humble student from the Lexicon Sector, the renowned 'School Worlds' for the entire system and its planets was a hub of knowledge; one gargantuan university. He was born there, like his parents, and inevitably studied there, like his parents, studying the noble art of technomancy. One day, he was given the task of delving the ruins of an abandoned civilization in one of the planets in a nearby system. He and a dozen other students traveled to said planet, but once there were ambushed by Body-Snatchers, slavers feared as bogeymen. Half of the group died defending their freedom and the rest were chained up to be sold to the highest bidder. Diaemus was among those who died, taken before his time at the age of 36.
But that apparently was not the end for him as in the ruins resided something that resembled the mythical 'witch'. With her unholy techno-magic, she resurrected the mangled corpse of Diaemus Fyrell, turning him into a Necrosis, the cyborg undead. Though he was not happy with his new form, it was at least comforting to know that he was alive once again. In gratitude, he swore allegiance to the woman that resurrected him and together they traveled the galaxy, in search of knowledge wherever it may be. It was...funny, really. He owed his unlife to her and yet he spent his years of servitude without knowing her name. She never cared enough to tell him and he in turn never felt the dire need to ask her. Thus he was forced to refer to her (at least mentally) with the ancient Lexiconi word for 'name': Non.
Non and Diaemus went through a lot together, often times having to save each other's lives, but as a Necrosis, he would of course outlive his ward. He continued to travel solo, however, because for one, what else was he to do? Undeath was both a blessing and a curse. But a thousand years of exploration and the hopes of a thousand years more turned out to be the one thing he never knew he desired. To witness history unfold and survive through it was nothing short of perfection. Everything major that he was a witness of, he recorded it into his personal archives, the E.D.D.A. [Exegetic Direct Documentation Archive]. And no facet of history intrigued him more than the Treasure Trove of Captain Nathaniel Flint. Diaemus knew, better than most others, that it existed. The evidence pointing towards it was just there, but 'where' remained a mystery. While he had little use for riches, Non would have been overjoyed to know that her creation managed to find what none others failed to find.
So what Diaemus ended up doing was hopping between crew after crew that desired Flint's Treasure as well. As expected, none succeeded, with most ending prematurely as blaster fodder. The undead man, however, remained a clairvoyant when it came to danger, always slipping away to safety when things looked grim and then going on to try with another crew. With the Leviathan and Captain Lemaire's crew, this makes it his 67th attempt.
Misc.
Diaemus is fluent in basically every language that mattered, making him a prime translator. He's also working on a glamour device that would conceal his hideous form, but a tinkerer he is not. If the crew engineer was willing to help, that would be marvelous.
Does he think Treasure Planet exists?
Most definitely. He has no use for riches, but it is naive to think that such a notorious and proliferous crew wouldn't keep records of what they've achieved. Such records would look great in his E.D.D.A.
Relationships
To be discussed.
