Corporal Lance — Roleplayer Guild

"...and then he said 'I am the Viper. I am here to vipe and vash the vindows!'  Ah ha ha!"

The vixen gave an obnoxious chuckle, mirrored by the older men at the bar of Pan'Zel Cabra. Not the most ideal of places, a hole-in-the wall joint in the Recreation Hub yet deeper in not to be noticed. The atmosphere was a mishmash of offworld traditions, with the heads of a number of strange animals sporting more nostrils than eyes hung menacingly on the faux-oaken wallpapered iron taken from the scrap of an abandoned ship. "Rustic charm" they called it. Certainly better than "hell-hole dive". The clientele was pretty sparse but Nick had gotten lucky when he found a trio of old fools that looked as if they were there every other day yucking it up and telling off-color jokes. Pretty simple targets, he figured. Good for chatting up, scoring some free food and drinks, and killing time. Not like he could get drunk anyway, but it was a pretty decent way to destress after a long day doing nothing but playing the waiting game.

The talking heads had wanted to take him on-world "just in case" someone needed something a little less gentle in scope. Or legal. Nick wasn't really good at doing anything else. So of course he'd be stranded on Visishka with nothing to do but twiddle his thumbs. While the Scroungers were off on political business, him tagging along for a while incognito just as instructed, it became increasingly apparent that his involvement wouldn't be needed and his usefulness didn't even go so far as a show of force, let alone security. Not like he could touch half these brutes by what he'd seen and he wasn't able to smuggle a magshot past customs without swallowing it in... pieces...

Huh. That might be worth a try next time.

But back on topic, Nick left to let the important individuals take care of their high-profile political business while he wandered off and found something to entertain himself with. Which just so happened to be a trio of lonely old bastards that would go gaga over any set of ample assets that gave half a glance their way. Na'greth clearly. The rocky exterior gave it away Hustling them into joining their meal was fairly simple, he just acted lost and pretended to be super interested in every last thing they had to say and they hooked him up with something strong and some fried pyettal taken from their own plates without even spending a cred. But then an angel graced his own ears, a heavenly chorus without equal in poetic beauty...

“Citizens, the travel ban is lifted. If your presence is not required here, the Federation strongly urges your departure while free travel remains.”

Freakin' finally! He could get off this rock! Not that he hated staying there, but it was no surface leave. Being on a short leash took the fun out of everything. He half-contemplated just disappearing into the crowd and hitting the star road, but he was jacked in. They'd find him and put a bag over his head and then the needles. Screw. The needles. As if on cue, his comm vibrated with a flurry of activity from the Captain herself. Nick had to hide the chills it sent down his form as he acted surprised to see the device come alive.

"Oh? Oh, I am sorry! I need to take this! I'll be just a minute~" he cooed with a voice of honeydew.
"Take your time, darlin'. No hurry back," one of the fools reassured him. Blowing a kiss, Nick hefted his luggage and swayed his hips to the men's room with his dress fluttering behind him. He was pretty certain they weren't paying attention to the most important part. On his way in he ran into a taller, bugeyed humanoid with pointed ears giving him sort of shocked stare as he washed his hands.
"The fuck you want, B? Ain't seen another guy in a bathroom before?" challenged Nick in a deep voice. The lithe one sputtered and feverishly turned to drying his hands, clearly in a hurry to escape the situation. Nick smirked devilishly while taking a stall to answer the text from Vropda in his usual casual tone.

Cant read ur message, came out in gibrish lol

Nick switched his commlink to visual mode to submit text with the input from his retinas as he changed back into his more comfortable form. The pain was as uncomfortable as it was every time. It's not a pleasant feeling to feel your arteries shift as your bones re-calcified and warped inside your own skin. The shapeshifter took quivering breaths as he tore his own blond hair out to be replaced by his "natural" brown lockes, visually typing all the while. All was going well until his nervous system was set upon by fire ants. Not really necessary, but he felt he could use a little extra protection just in case someone tried to put a slug in his shoulderblades for what he was about to do. Doc's barrier was pretty good about that.

Im thinking that means "go to the dock were done here". Whatev not like Im doing anything anyway. If any FEDs ask you about some bodies on 278 and Fey'lan with bite marks in'em I didnt do it.

After a time Nick was admiring his "real" face in the mirror again, scrubbing the makeup off his face with the crappy papertowels. It'd probably be wise to invest in some sort of transmogrifying sorcery for that part and even some glamoured clothing, but Nick kept forgetting.  He'd probably need to lose it somewhere along the way anyway. Running a hand over his chin before grinning to himself, he decided that he'd gotten it all and walked out with his bag slung over his shoulder. With a brazen attitude he strutted back over to the bar where his companions of the day were still seated and placed an arm on the cool iron.

"Hey, I had a pretty good time today! I'm sooo glad you handsome fellas could spare a little hospitality for lil' ol' me!" he sang in the silky tones he had given them earlier. Nick winked to the dumbfounded morons as they searched their feeble brains for an answer.
"If you ever wanna hang out again, just look me up. Ah ha ha!" And on that note the Endovan took to swaggering for the door.
"...YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT WAS-!?"
"AAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAH!" Nick was having a hard time catching his breath from the shear hilarity of the situation, stooping over to laugh his ass off on the footpath. Still softly chuckling to himself, the shapeshifter wiped a tear from his eye as he pulled a coffin nail from his jacket pocket and began to amble toward the spaceport where on his way "home" for lack of a better word. He'd take his time. Not like he was looking forward to getting back to work anyway.

Text message response going out as a group text to @Zverda, @Hekazu, @Gordian Nought, @JBRam2002, and @Big Dread. Happenings at Pan'Zel Cabra privvy to anyone who was there or anyone in the street.

Howdy y'all!

I got referred here by @Hekazu in the Discord when it was mentioned that members were still needed, so here I am! If there's any info I gotta know before signing on or anything you wanna know from me about my character or his fit in all this, please call it to my attention.

Name: Nicholas "Nick" Zelthis 
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 152
Age: 37
The Endovans are a race of social parasites by evolution, descending from a cuttlefish-like organism then known as Piscis Figura Mutationem. Named after the toxic Endovii Crevice where they were discovered on Androstra, this race of aquatic creatures developed a curious evolutionary defense mechanism to survive the Androstran harsh climate. While other creatures became hardier and more enduring to the incredible heat and gaseous atmosphere, Piscis Figura Mutationem continued to exist through cellular mutation through inclusive RNA. Lightly put, they copied the genetic code of the living things around them. In this manner of survival the Endovans could survive the freezing winters when the sun was far from the planet and the blazing summers where the oceans would boil within the same generation, increasing their odds of survival.

It came to be that these organisms would eventually happen upon sentient visitors to their planet for study and to cultivate the rich metal deposits of Androstra. When they came in contact with this exalted species their intelligence began to rapidly climb until they were well within the same scope of sapient as the invading off-worlders. And so they formed society yet still kept their animalistic roots. The Id, the basic needs to feed, procreate, and gain resources. The local colony had plenty of these resources. Piscis Figura Mutationem continued contact with the squatters, the most intelligent of those succeeding, and the most rapidly evolving of those becoming more successful still.

Within another few generations still they would grasp the pinnacle of sentient evolution: society. Society made it incredibly easy to survive, to eat, to live. The smarter ones began to resemble the invading species and mimic their mannerisms, masquerading as the visiting party in order to gain access to comfortable habitats and food sources. At a cost, of course, but a cost they needn't have to pay. The Endovans contributed nothing and bled supplies dry, spreading paranoia among the off-worlders. Their rapidly evolving cells needed a massive source of energy to keep going, and death from starvation could come in as little as a week without the crutch of civilization.

With local resources exhausted, the Endovans, now a fully-fledged sapient menace, took to the stars on stolen shuttles to become a problem for other worlds.


Tier/Influence:3

An Endovans mere existence, benevolent or no, can put strain on a local populace for their mere need to feed and spark panic if they are discovered.

Group(s): Currently unaligned



Nicholas's original and preferred form is a handsome youth of an average build, maybe a little on the athletic side, with quite an average height of 5'9" and a typical weight of 155lbs . His chestnut brown hair is short and quite curly, clashing with his icy blue eyes that flit from piercing to reflective to warm in an instant, their dark circles displaying a hint of redness along their edges from stress. His skin is healthily tanned but not overly so, with no scarring to speak of or tattoos or brands. His tone varies depending on however he wishes to sound, but his voice is higher in pitch than most other young men and somewhat dulled when in a neutral mood. He's quite expressive when he's faking who he is, otherwise he keeps an interested expression that can be taken many ways.

That being said this is not his true form, only the one he feels most comfortable and familiar with. Nick is of a unique species able to change his appearance nearly at will, and can assume a menagerie of different identities based on need. He can appear to be any other humanoid form of a similar size, even those of other genders, adopting new features as he sees fit to do so. Changing skin tone, hair color, and even his own voice is akin to putting on another outfit to him.

His "style" will greatly depend on what's necessary at the moment, what species he is, and what persona he adopts at the moment. None of it is set quite in stone, however if Nick has a preference it's between loose-fitting clothing that allows him more freedom to alter his body type or layered clothing that lets him more freely swap faces on the move. Baggy tees, shorts under jeans, reversible jackets, hoodies, multipurpose shoes, all of these things lend themselves to the shapeshifter's preferred "look" as far as utility goes. If necessary, he'll don some "working gear" however he prefers to blending in, not standing out.


Charismatic, outgoing, and incredibly irresponsible to the point of becoming a chronic problem, Nick isn't without his roguish charm. The smart-aleck has a comeback or taunt for any exchange as if it's second nature and doesn't quite realize that words can hurt until after he's spoken them. The man acts like he's invincible, his devil-may-care attitude leading him into metaphorical oncoming trains with a wry grin on his lips. Nick does what's fun, not what's always best, though he can have a meticulous streak if he's trying to achieve something. Pulling the wool over the eyes of others is a favorite game of his and he hates to lose these, every social encounter a contest or trial to get people to see him as he wants them to.

That being said, for being so "fearless" Nick resorts to underhanded tactics quite often. Touching nerves, cheap shots, dirty tricks, nothing's beneath him as far as he's concerned because "it doesn't matter if I win fair and square, what matters is I won". He avoids confrontations he thinks he'll lose and instigates where he thinks he'll find enjoyment. Not one to keep his hands still, Nick is often the center or origin of a lot of drama or conflict almost to the fact that it fuels him. While careless and an adrenaline junkie, Nick is anything but stupid and always has some sort of plan on the backburner even if it's a half-baked one.

He's crass, brash, and endearing when he wants to be, always seeking the easiest solution or the most entertaining. His extroverted nature can sometimes be a breath of fresh air to the serious when he's not being a spike in their heel. At his best he can be fun, engaging, witty, and driven. At his worst he can be biting, selfish, cowardly, and a personal safety risk.


Skinwalker - 3
Nicholas possesses the ability to take select forms of his choosing, albeit with restrictions. These forms must be similar to his own: four limbs, a head, and around the same size although there can be variations. Any extra limbs can be generated with great effort although they will be vestigial and not useful. A tail he grows will just dangle there without the nerves to use it, for example. This form can be any form of which he has encountered DNA from and can vary wildly from the original form. For instance, if he obtains human DNA Nick can become a human of any similar quality to the original meaning skin color, eye color, facial structure, hair, etc. Genders, of course, require additional genetic information.

This change is not instantaneous and takes nearly 5 minutes of excruciating pain to complete as his bones shift and his cells die off en masse to be replaced by new ones from his cellular organ.
Perfect Cells - 2
Constantly regenerating in order to become something else, the cells in Nick's body are able to quickly and efficiently repair the damage he receives to it. While not to any superhuman degree, he recovers from attacks at an advanced metabolic rate compared to other creatures and repurposes the nutrients and caloric energies available to him faster than the average member of any other race. Small cuts and scrapes can completely disappear in tens of minutes, broken bones can regenerate within a week's time (at least to a degree to risk using the limb), and he can even regenerate lost parts of his body over the course of a few months.
Parasyte - 3
To further survive in unknown environments and blend into the host society, Nick's race borrows certain physiological aspects from the species they mimic. This change is never great enough to fully belong to that race, however it's often enough to survive in harsh environments or go about communities relatively unnoticed. This genetic material can't make up more than 30% of Nick's biomass or his body begins to either reject or identify with it, limiting his transforming potential.

Nick has the ability to borrow genetic advantages from other species. When he comes into contact with the genetic code from another humanoid through his skin (skin-to-skin contact, blood, hair, saliva, etc.) he can borrow a level 2 Ability from them for a period of time not to exceed 8 hours, though this can be extended through repeated contact. He may only borrow one trait at a time and manifesting this trait takes 5 minutes much like his Skinwalker ability. Manifesting this Ability to borrow another one similarly takes another 5 minutes. Nicholas can only manifest Abilities from genetic code he's encountered in the past week, any longer and it's already out of his system. Anything higher than Tier 2 is beyond the mimicry capabilities of his stem cells. This Ability must be genetic in nature and can't be imbued through, say, cybernetic enhancements or specialized training.
Restoree - 2
The cells in Nick's body regenerate very quickly due to his enhanced metabolism, allowing his race to survive in many more harsh environments. This constant cellular regeneration filters toxins much quicker out of Nick's body, absorbing foreign agents into his cells and allowing those to die while he creates new ones. He can stay alive longer in environments with oppressive atmospheres and can recover from being poisoned or drugged naturally on his own at a rate that would put other creatures to shame. For every minute a human can survive in any sort of oppressive environment, Nick can survive for 10, although he degenerates at the same rate (such as with mustard gas causing coughing and eventually death or space causing not-so-much coughing and a much quicker death). Additionally and as evolution intended, he can pretty much eat whatever he wants in any sort of edible state.
Mockingbird - 1 
Part of donning an entirely new identity is sounding the part, a skill that Nicholas has mastered through time and effort. The vast majority of all living things are able to change their tone of voice through the shrinking and elongation of their vocal chords, giving pitch and tone to communicate different sounds and even going insofar as mimicking another sound or voice completely. Luckily for Nick the malleability of his species allows him to stretch and contort his vocal chords with relative ease, allowing him to sound exactly like any other vocal creature he's heard and even impersonate non-humanoid sounds of certain varieties. This ability is rather low in tier as basic humans can do some really good impressions, have you seen Rich Little?
Social Chameleon - 2
The most important part of blending in is knowing the lingo, the scene, and the mannerisms. Nick possesses an innate enhanced ability to pick up and learn new information related to people far above basic human understanding as if specifically trained. He never forgets a name, slides into appropriate social encounters with the ease of a nobleman, and picks up on languages in a matter of weeks at least to the point of basic comprehension.
Dumb Enough to Try, Quick Enough to Succeed - 1
His athleticism isn't anything special or superhuman, but Nick can run and brawl fairly competently when asked to. This mostly comes from experience in saying/doing something stupid where he needs to bail himself out. And the quickest way to make sure things don't get any worse is to book it at a sprint or throw a punch, right? He's not the fastest or strongest out there, but Nick is fit enough to get by when the situation calls for it.
Pain is an Illusion. An Illusion That Hurts. - 1
Much like his fitness, Nick can take a punch better than most although not to any serious degree. In his case he realizes that whatever damage he suffers will repair itself in time, and that kind of attitude can lead to him taking more punishment before hitting the dirt than others. While still basically human in this capability, Nick can be burnt, shot, or suffer a broken bone and still have enough frame of mind to limp away as quick as he can if he can't full-on run for the hills.
Cloak and Dagger - 2
Either through subterfuge, manipulation, or just some good ol' fashioned sneakin' around and being shady, Nick is fairly skilled at getting into places he shouldn't. Throughout his short life he's had to mask his presence to get by so much so that it's become routine. Infiltration isn't a skill or a profession for him, it's a lifestyle.


Nothin' Special - 1
While equipment is nice, you can't really rely on it like you can yourself. Nick doesn't carry any sort of specialized gear with him wherever he goes unless supplied to him or picked up on-site. He prefers to use what's available to him because if he changes faces he may need to ditch it anyway. That being said, Nick carries a believable amount of things on him, just the bare essentials. Wallet, snacks, communication  device, lighter, snacks, makeup kit, snacks, keys, the usual. Also snacks. The hunger is real.


Noretha Zelthis was a hard-working woman in the poorer city of Maeter before she had Nicholas, where she worked as a waitress in a run-down restaurant on Andros. She was a subtle sort of beautiful, one that was easily overlooked if you happened to be passing by. But not to one individual with a chipper attitude. Enraptured with a charismatic young man with promises.of a better life, she quickly grew to love him and was looking forward to settling down. Yet soon after she grew pregnant he disappeared for good. Saddled with a child on a single mother's income, life quickly became hard. She had to work multiple odd jobs to support the two of them, often taking an infant Nicholas to work with her or leaving him at home and praying for the best. This story of struggle continued without deviation until around Nicholas's 14th birthday.

He had never it in and had never known why. Nor had he ever cared. Nick had known he was different at a fundamental level from the other children. Perhaps it was how he reacted or didn't react to the same things. Perhaps it was how he made few efforts to befriend any of them, preferring to spend time alone with his own machinations and cause problems to amuse himself. That all came to a head when he became a young man. Nick's latent genetic potential had been on a ticking timer, waiting for an induction of testosterone en mass before revealing his true colors. He was not the typical Androstran as previously thought, he was an Endovan, an undesirable race of shapeshifting cephalopods that assume the forms of other species in order to survive themselves. They were leeches of the Androstran society, they took more than their fair share without contributing to the point of famine and when famine closed in? They consumed the populace like the monsters they were.

Noretha fled Maeter when his secret was discovered, fearing for her son's life at the hands of an angry mob. To her Nicholas was Nicholas, the son she had bore and raised to a fine young man no matter who he was. They began to live on the road as gypsies, constantly evading the law and moving from town to town in order to avoid discrimination and prevent anyone from getting wise. When he came of age Nick assisted his mother working in their mobile cross-country food truck, although his voracious appetite often caused more sorrow than splendor. He was 19 years old when the bigots caught up to them in Triton.

An uproarious slew of Androstrans had cornered Noretha and her son on the outskirts after Nick had been witnessed changing shape for a prank. Out of gas and out of options, she could do little but bar the doors to her mobile home as furious bodies pounded at the entrance. Making little headway, they set fire to the truck instead. Nicholas managed to escape by climbing out from underneath a bottom hatch disguised as one of the crowd but his mother, lacking such transforming abilities, opted to remain in the truck to appease the bloodthirst of the crowd. Nick left with the crowd as his birth mother burned to cinders and began his life as a true Endovan: a fake creature pretending to be normal, living among the Androstrans as he plotted their demise from the inside.

He loathed them for what they had done, despised them for preying on a young man and his innocent mother who only wished to raise her son. Nicholas became a drifter, leeching off of the kindness of strangers and giving payment in a knife to the back. In his eyes they were all scum unworthy of survival, a handful of individuals of their kind had shown to that.  Their treatment had turned him from a sheltered devilish little pranskter to a jaded loose-cannon with little to lose and a hot streak, and he hadn't skipped a beat becoming exactly the sort of monster many thought him to be.

Nick was posing as a long-haul trucker when someone in a dive bar on a lonely road had spoken something derogatory about his kind. Nick chatted him up, got him friendly before luring him outside for a breath of fresh air and a cancer stick. He took this opportunity to send his beer bottle into the back of his skull. He'd planned on roughing him up a little more for good measure when someone else had the same bright idea to grab a cigarette and the chase began. His big rig was heavy enough to avoid being run off the road, but they stayed on him for miles until he got a chance to escape. He sought solace in an unknown town on the horizon with the men hot on his heels.

He made a beeline straight for the first offworld ship, faking his way on with glibness and lies before he was finally safe among the stars relatively speaking. He could do anything with his new life. Live peacefully, settle down, maybe marry, maybe own some land... but that never interested him in the slightest. It was a dull way to live and never a good option to make good money in a small amount of time. Mining was dangerous enough and good on the payroll if not tedious and dull and required hard work all day, but beggers can't be choosers.
 Nick volunteered for the Ragnarov Fleet as a rigger, carrying only the vaguest notion of what he would be required to do other than pointing heavy machinery at rocks or something. He doesn't ask too many questions, the intricacies aren't really interesting to him anyway.

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