Name - Vorkon, no surname.
Alias - N/A
Age - Unknown.
Human or Alien - Alien ;; Xaelon. The Xaelon originally hail from a blood-lusting and violent planet, called the Vaelun-Six. It's a planet with a predominantly red, dusty-hot surface, sparse ponds or oceans, and a tough, heavy pressure/gravitational force that is usually the reason the alien species are known as warriors. The Xaelon are primarily lighter tones, although some are known to be a tad darker, and they usually stand above 6 feet as an average. Due to the gravity of the world, the children develop and grow younger than other species, being physically into an adult boy by their younger teenage years. The faces of the Xaelon are not usually seen, as they generally cover their heads with various helmets, and keep it there throughout their lives. There's no other reason for this, other than tradition. However, when they partially take off their helmets or so to eat, glimpses of razor-sharp teeth could be seen, and a rather humanoid jawline.
Powers - Vorkon is an Xaelon, and thusly, he has increased attributes that all other members of his species possess. His strength, speed, durability, agility, and stamina is far above what you would put as 'norm', allowing him to perform feats of strength, speed, and general body-related things that is inhuman, or inalien, in this case. This involves leaping dozens of feet within the air, tearing steel apart with his bare hands, and chasing after beasts that are normally faster than aliens. This comes especially into play during combat, with Vorkon attacking his enemies in a ferocious whirlwind of limbs, blades, and bodyparts and blood. This goes hand in hand with the razor-sharp reflexes he has developed over the years of being in the gladitorial arena, and his skill with a variety of different weaponry.
Weaknesses - Like all species, Vorkon has weaknesses. For one, psychologically-wise, during battle, he usually has a one-track mind, and that is to accomplish his goal - something he has developed after years upon years in 'The Pit'. This means that he usually won't stop until that goal is completed, which can truly disrupt his communication with teammates, and even cause problems amongst the more moralistic humans. His ruthlessness in battle is somewhat of a weakness, and somewhat of an advantage. Similarly, while his body is, in general, tougher than most, enough force or piercing capability can, and will, pierce through his calloused skin. His mind has a specific lack of protection against telepathic attacks, and can leave him open in that regards.
Appearance - Vorkon stands at 6'4 or so, with a very muscular, yet lean and compact build that does nothing to hide his superior physical abilities and skill. His chest is generally covered with clasped, heavy - to others, dark mottled steel armor that can protect against high-calibered bullets, energy projectiles, and concussive blasts/attacks, but can be pierced with enough attacks. It's only on his upper body due to how he fights - which is all over the place, dominating the enemy with wild, yet oddly precise strikes. This causes him to twist and flip a lot of the times, meaning that his mid-to-lower torso needs to be free of constriction, to twist without anything hindering his movements. His pants are dark brown/black, with dark, mottled steel plats sewn in loosely, as to not restrict movements, along with tough combat boots, a loose belt to hold anything he needs, and two holsters for a pair of Xaurum-MK II's;; two shell-blasting, powerful pistols, usually disliked by most due to the immense recoil, but Vorkon can use them without any issues. On his back, criss-crossed and magnetic, are two long, razor-sharp, jagged swords that are relatively light-weight, despite their intimidating appearance. They're not specially crafted by him, or some sort of heirloom. He found it as he was escaping Dor'Lorez, and they haven't broken yet, so he keeps them with him. Very useful. His helmet is dark and leather-wrapped, with a gasmask that filters out any bad gases/poisons, and muffles his naturally deep, rough voice. The two eyeholes glow an odd, yet intimidating crimson - maybe a reflection of what his eyes are underneath? His face is generally unknown, as no one has even seen him take the mask off to eat.
BRIEF Bio- To be brief, Vorkon was originally born on his home planet, given his helmet/mask like all younglings. He would grow up underneath a rough father, with a variety of other children in the village they grew up in. Rough-housing and fighting was common, and he was trained by his father on hand-to-hand combat, as he played and wrestled with the other kids. Life was pretty...boring? At age eight, a shady planet, Dor'Lorez, sent out a caravan to kidnap young children for their gladiator pit. His planet was one of the more popular ones, and despite everyone fighting with all they had, the superiority of Dor'Lorez was too much, and the village burned, with Vorkon and a few kids being taken and sold into a gladiator arena, the Pit, within Dor'Lorez's shadowy depths. This is where he grew up for years upon years - he had stopped counting after ten. There, he fought against large beasts, countless human slaves, everything you could ever think of...but despite this, he soldiered on, growing calloused and ruthless, cold to the pleas of enemies as he used whatever weapon of the week the Pit decided to throw to the gladiators. Finally, as he came out for yet another battle, he saw his enemy, and his steel heart felt like it was breaking. A child-hood friend...Veloria, one that grew up in his village. She was bruised, torn, and was definitely not a sight for sore eyes...but she was here. For once since these damned battles began, he talked, calling out to her, but she attacked, and kept attacking, attacking, attacking...until he had to put her out of her desperation. However, as she died, her eyes cleared - for they had the audacity to take her helmet - and she whispered something, softly, that he would still remember for years to come. "Escape...leave this disgusting pla-" And that was it. After that, things seemed to happen in slow motion. He was taken back to his cell, where he usually trained until the next match, but things were different. He did a lot of shit in his life, and if he were to be honest with himself, he knew he wasn't a good person.
He knew it.
But he could at least leave this planet, like Veloria promised. He managed to snap the neck of the guard, and took the man's weaponry - two jagged blades. The escape plan was nonexistant, but somehow, with the motivation and burning passion of Veloria's words, Vorkon managed to escape on a slim, yet fast, unnoticeable jet, and flew out into space. Since then, he has become a sort of...wanderer, of sorts, travelling from planet to planet, generally with no aim but to fight, which he did. He killed whatever slaver, gladiator pit owner, and generally any evil man he came across in his travels, not really having a set destination, other than to drift. However, after coming across the Titans, he saw how they seemed to get into trouble a lot, and watched them for a bit. After some thought, he joined them. He wasn't a hero, or whatever they were, but he liked trouble, and battle was the only real thing he was alive for, honestly. At least he was a free man. Although his ruthless tendency in battle tends to cause conflicts with the humans, Vorkon is generally a silent, dangerous guy, keeping to himself, and training for the next enemy. He had found a purpose, after all, and he'd keep it until it got stale.
Notes - Nothing.
Commitment - Need at least one post per week, with six players total that means as a group somebody has to post daily. Just let me know here how active you are and that one post per week is doable.
