J D Jalowiec — Roleplayer Guild

1.
“Spineless!”
The filter from the breathing apparatus brought an extra sizzle to an otherwise grave voice. Gideon sprinted after the group of food thieves and into the raging dust storm. Two females, one male, and he was keeping up decently well with such limited vision underneath the dust goggles. However, the group escaped after only a short run with his one tater’.

Gideon cursed into the dust with a closed fist, knowing full well they could hear him. With an angry shuffle, he wandered back to his farm. “Eco restoration specialist”, he growled under the apparatus, “Nonsense.” 

Steel doors shifted open, and the sound of dust flying around subsided to a soft noise. Gideon stepped inside and the doors closed behind him. Darkness…- then the click of a ceiling light! His indoor housing seemed so quaint.
Steel furniture, linens, and a fridge full of dry pouches of substance were the centerpieces of his home. He sat down on his favorite chair, handmade from twisted black wood grown down below with the rest of the population. Inside of this metal shack, he was protected from all sorts of threats outside. He was protected from Brothen (A type of creature commonly found within the wastes of Interim), dust storms, other people, etc.

He slid his leather boots off, and removed his breathing apparatus and goggles to reveal clean spots of skin circled with dirt. A sink was his best friend. He stood up, walked a short distance to the other side of the shack where the sink was. Everything he needed to live was in the one room- even the toilet. After a conservative rinse, he waited until nightfall. There was no use farming or restoring during the storm.. Night grew brisk, and dust settled rather peacefully. And so, Gideon slept.
He dreamt of nothing, yet he knew he was dreaming.

Armed with an array of farming equipment, he was rather proficient with his hands. The next day he wore the same clothes, and the same gear, and prepped the land for vegetation through the use of a technological hoe. He’s tried the same thing, over and over, and he has yet to combat the dust storms. At times, he’s only able to grow the occasional genetically enhanced potato, but even then its reward is sparse.

The sun, blocked by clouds, seemed to begin to set. There was no storm, thus today was good in Gideon’s eyes. The shack was home, and night had fallen with only a slight wind to keep it company.

The mirror above the sink was Gideon’s nightmare every day. He would usually ignore his reflection for any male he met looked similar to him. Tonight felt different though. Tonight, Gideon felt upset. With both hands on the sink, Gideon stared into his own reflection. It felt like he was looking at himself with disappointment, and though nothing had to be said, it was as if the reflection was lashing out at him emotionally. Suicide was always an option, he pondered.


2.
The door knocked. It was night- how curious.
Gideon ignored the knock, and sat down in his favorite chair.
Moments passed, leaving Gideon wondering if he misheard, and he was proven wrong when the knock happened twice now. It was clearly a person at the door.

“Who is it?”
Gideon walked up to the door, and spoke loud enough to be heard through the steel door.
No response.
“Anyone there?”
Gideon grabbed at his survival knife he owned, and opened the door with the push of a button.
Darkness, only the darkness of the night existed at his doorstep.
He closed the door, and went to sleep.

The next morning came, and Gideon prepped for another day of work.
clink! He nearly tripped as he went out the door. With teeth grit and a grunt escaping the mask, one of the largest black crystals he’d ever seen had landed on his doorstep from the wind night prior. It must’ve been the size of a shotgun shell. 

He leaned down, and picked up the mysteriously cold crystal with his leather gloves. Fitting perfectly into his palm, the crystal seemed blacker than black itself. It was almost as if it absorbed light and light just given up. It had no shimmer like other crystals he’d seen. The first thought he had was, “I could trade this for a trade ship, and then I could leave!”

The next thought he had did not belong to him. It was another voice that hissed in his ear without intelligibility.  He dropped the crystal back into the dirt immediately out of impulse. With eyes widened behind the goggles, he opened the door to his shack and kicked the crystal inside.
The sound of dust faded, and the crystal sat in the middle of the room on the steel floor. Heavy but hesitant boot steps moved towards the crystal, and the door shut behind Gideon.
He touched it again with gloves on, and whispers started inhabiting his mind again before dissipating as quickly as they came. He put the crystal into his chest rig, and began his day without another thought about the gem.

After a day of  ‘restoration’ he returned back inside. He cleaned, did the same routine, masturbated (which was rare in his genetically modified species), cleaned the dirt from his body, and then held the gem with curiosity within his gloves.


3.
Sitting at the foot of his bed, all he could do was hold the gem daintily in the palms of his leather bound hands. He was on a different plane of thought.
With an eyebrow raised, he removed one of his gloves. The gem began to suck the light from the room. The one ceiling light went out, and the gem was touched by Gideon with a bare finger.

“Aah!” Gideon roared in searing flesh. The gem felt like pure electricity, and Gideon was unable to escape its grasp. Whispers flooded his mind, and his body was no longer his. So much pain flooded into his body, more pain than he had ever felt before. A prankster from outside ran away from the sounds of the shack. It had sounded like death had met Gideon.

“You okay in there?!” There was pounding at the door.
Gideon awoke, drool hanging off his lip and the gem in hand. Dizziness was the most accurate word for his current state. “Yes, officer?” Gideon lazily stumbled to the steel door, revealing two officers in uniform and a meek child behind them. Nobody looked happy. “We had a key witness state that there was a disturbance up here. Are there any problems? Anything you’ve encountered?” Gideon spoke softly and leaned on the steel door in an ache, “It’s just me who lives here, I don’t know of any disturbance.”.

“We were told that there was a rather painful screaming.”
“That was me. I had fallen and dislocated my shoulder, but I’m okay now. I fixed myself. Sorry to waste your time.” The officers gave Gideon quite a look, before saying goodbye and apologies.
After the door had shut, Gideon slid down on his back and held the crystal in front of him with shaky hands.
“Finally.”
A voice spoke, but it wasn’t Gideon’s.
“Who-“ the human began to speak.
“Erebos the Shadow.” The voice was heavy with disappointment and felt like a series of whispers. “I expected someone qualified.”

Gideon stumbled to his feet, for the first time encountering a feeling much stronger than he had ever felt. It was power and fear of that very power.
And so, with a firm plot inside Gideon’s mind, the voice of Erebos began to tell the story of Thanatos. After the story, and some questions, Erebos stated, “You’re taking up the role of Archon of Darkness.”

“. . .”
“You don’t have a choice.”
“Why me?”
“You touched the crystal, mortal.”


4.
After hours of silence
And so night did just that, it came.
Gideon stepped outside into a rather still environment. There was little to no dust flare-up.
“Summon your weapon." Erebos ordered. Gideon did just that. With a sudden stillness in his heart, his special weapon arose from the shadows of his fingers into a rough scaled cleaver with a sharp edge that rested heavy in Gideon’s right hand. “Learn to use this-“ Erebos stated seriously, “Learn to fight.”

And into the darkness Gideon fought nothingness, learning to use the weapon he dubbed ‘Broodmother’.  When swung, the cleaver extended into a six foot long whip that could be manipulated in most any direction. “Brutal.” Gideon smiled softly.

Name: Gideon H0349
Age: 24
Archon of: Darkness
Archon weapon: Beast Cutter

A savagely designed iron cleaver, upon proper usage and space available, can extend into a terrifying (but heavy) whip.
Appearance:
Standing at a biologically designed 6'1" (Superior height for planet climate), his eyes are no different than any of the other copies- blue. With skin rough and somewhat pale, his size and build is moderate. Dark & wavy brown hair falls just below the tops of his ears, and a clean face is useless with his breathing apparatus currently worn across his face like a vice. 
Currently working in the fields, he's wearing usual attire on his homeworld. His attire consists of a dust covered vital sealing suit (easily broken), a linen scarf, a water pouch at the waist, common brothen leather boots, and a dust covered fabric chest rig designed to hold basic farm equipment.
Personality:
With a voice that carries, his grave disposition tends to lean to a pessimistic but realistic side. He is never one to avoid a task, and he has never had a friend on his homeworld. With a touch of humor, and a touch of compassion, hopefully he escapes Interim. Death is common and a relief in his eyes.
Bio:


Awakening on planet Interim. The pod Gideon H0349 was birthed in was reused for copies just like him. Males were biologically designed without defect, and same for all the women, and each one looked similar to the previous with only minor changes in appearance. At this point, only a few biologically designed humans knew the origin story of the first clones. Gideon was not one to care.
School was menial, with the teachings consisting only of survival and technology. Families didn't exist, and friends were hard to come by and even then, it was hard to be unique in personality.

Interim was a dust planet. Most of the population resides underground. However, at age 18, one is assigned an occupation to fulfill for the rest of their lives until age 80. In which case, one can be granted peaceful living with no duty to its species. Suicide is a common problem that is taken lightly.

Gideon H0349 had no friends. He did school, went to his dorm, and slept. At age 18 he was assigned to the Eco Restoration Crew. His job was to repopulate the planet with vegetation through the use of water recovery and seed banking. It wasn't about creating food. His people wasn't starving. The planet he lived on simply was a "shithole" that needed help.

Dust was always apparent. Literally everything kicked up dust. The days were dim, with the light of the nearby sun barely creeping over the surface. The nights were darkest than any other planet on the rim. The only sense one can feel during the night is the sound of dust wisking in the wind.

Special gear or equipment: Breathing Apparatus (dust filter)

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