"Damn...We really gotta get something better than these ration bars." In spite of such a claim, the Captain of the illustrious and illegally commandeered starship Galatea was nearly on his 8th one this day in the span of barely an hour of consciousness, ugly wrappers and crumbs littering what might once have been a crisp and orderly desk. In-between bites he casually watched his crew go about their morning routine; turned out this office could access the live feed of a bunch of micro-cameras kept around the Crew Space and other spots of interest on-board this fine vessel. Kura wasn't exactly sure what to make of it, having only found out a week or so ago, but....Well, he'd be lying if it wasn't entertaining more often than not.
As the vision on the holo-monitor panned from member to member, he took another large chomp out of his current food source. Today was gonna be interesting; he'd had Wex, that slippery little shit, set them on a course to the planet in question for their next gig. Of course, until now, he hadn't told them exactly what they were going to be doing. After all, he doubted any of them would be overjoyed about a romp on a hazardous desert planet, but that was the way of things. He was sure they'd be won over when they heard the potential payout though; this was, without a doubt, the largest paycheck Kura would be picking up with this new...Albeit very questionable, crew. That is, if everything worked out as planned.
Which it never does, of course, but a man can dream.
Scarfing down the remainder of the bland-tasting nutrient-packed bar and tossing another wrapper to the side (he'd clean it!...Eventually), Kura figured that now was a good a time as any, seeing as how most of them had at least become prepared for the day, judging from his all-seeing, microscopic eyes (seriously, why the hell did they need something like this in the first place?). Swiping away the display, he pressed down a button on his desk, allowing his voice to be carried across the entire ship, in appropriately (if not aggravating) booming fashion.
"Rise and shine, crew. Get your asses to the Mission Deck in ten, gotta brief everyone before we touch down." His rough voice echoed throughout the shiny metallic halls, reaching everyone on-board. Kura, too, prepared himself, snagging his blade from its resting point aside his bed, and making an effort to not look quite as bed-headed as he had been moments ago...And swiping away a few crumbs from his jacket. That'd be a pretty bad look for a captain. With a few morning stretches to limber up, he too made his way down to the Mission Deck....
Nicknames: Jen (considers her full name a mouthful)
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Personality:
“The Quiet One” in a nutshell. A wallflower that prefers to coast through social situations with only the occasional utterance, merely observing and cataloging the important bits of ongoing conversations. It’s not so much that she’s incapable as she is merely antisocial. While she doesn’t like using it, she is capable of social intrigue. Her thoughtful, cautious nature often tempers her words, carefully tailoring them to achieve her desired results. If she doesn’t care to put on a show, however, she comes across as far more sardonic, noncommittal and snippy. At times, this standoffish visage fades, especially when her curiosity and hunger for knowledge are piqued. She is also prone to being more brutally honest with those she considers friends or -at least- friendly acquaintances. Although raised by a law enforcer, Jen has never fully conformed to such lines of thinking. Though she does define several sharp lines in the sand, her judgment is extremely vigilante-esce, believing that the best way to handle threats is to eliminate them such that “there is not even the possibility of them being a threat again”. Her primary restraint is minding whether she could feasibly get away with doing so without consequences.
While Jen has a sense of morality, it is largely tempered by selfishness. Somewhat disturbingly practical, Jen has no interest in heroics, not in a serious sense. She sees it as a dead-end job, even in the literal sense. If she had her way, she would live a quiet, undisturbed civilian life, using her powers solely for her own gain and to protect her personal interests when the likes of reckless Cape activities decide to rudely intrude. In a sense, Jen treats being a hero like a "punch-clock" job. She's there to get her hours in, do her duty, get her pay and clock out, nothing more and nothing less. Her pride and sense of completionism at least compel her to make an effort to give the most rationally sufficient "service" possible according to her job's standards, but otherwise, she is not really the type to go above and beyond the call of duty unless she has no other option.
That being said, she does make some effort to conceal her "conventionally negative" aspects. She has no interest in antagonizing others for no reason and making unnecessary enemies, and by her reckoning, it's much easier to go with the flow where possible. She will follow orders to the letter -even if not the spirit- and generally makes an effort not to come across as a rebellious teenager. She has no intention of making heroics a lasting career and has every intent of quitting as soon as she's in an advantageous position for it, but there's no good reason to let others know that's the case and broadcast her true feelings. It's much easier to catch flies with honey, after all, and she's certain that pretending to be a good little child soldier will serve to smooth over the path of her near future much more nicely than the alternative.
At some point, one might wonder, is this level of selfishness normal? Perhaps it's a power-induced psychosis, an emotional separation to go with the physical separation. Regardless, Jen seems quite capable of acting in a manner outwardly divorced from her drives when needed. On the job, in costume, she plays something of an aloof detective crossed with surprisingly charismatic speaker. She gives hope to the hearts of the masses through encouraging words and actions, saves lives with a pat on the shoulder and two-fingered salute... and at the same time strives to drive fear into the hearts of villains. For her, it is not enough to defeat them physically, but mentally as well, to destroy them so that they will not choose villainy again. She takes especially harsh action on villains that take hostages, and she has little patience for playing to the tune of her opponents. If a villain makes ransom demands, she'll defy them out of spite.
Appearance: Civilian: A 5'8", 140 lb. charcoal-black-haired, brown-eyed, athletic, caucasian young woman with a lean, conditioned build. Prefers blue jeans and wide variety of dark cotton shirts or hoodies. Typically prefers solid colors and stuff without brand names plastered all over it. She lives in Redline, Maine, which is -to say the least- cold, so she also favors warm jackets, preferably with hoods for when the chill is especially biting. She dresses practical and for comfort. Style is a secondary thought at best, but she has a basic sense of color coordination and so at least doesn't come across as a visual disaster.
In a word, Jen can be described as “average”, the sort of face you can almost lose in a crowd. Her appearance seems to strike no particularly notable extremes at any given moment. While she is certainly athletic and built like a martial artist -if an obviously shapely female one, it’s almost impossible to tell beneath her baggy favored hoodies and jeans. She doesn’t bother to wash her face, but her skin is naturally clear for the most part due to healthy living. Her shoulder-length hair is hardly anything to write home about, seemingly combed to the bare minimum required to be presentable and only washed enough to not appear oily. The most notable thing about her would be her relative lack of smell one way or the other, apparently a result of unscented soaps. In outward demeanor, she is fairly mild; she doesn’t hunch, nor does she walk with her head held high, merely coasting by on the middle ground.
A cyberpunk-themed and (mostly cosmetically) armored bodysuit with glowing accents (that have no functional purpose but to look really damn cool), surprisingly breathable while also being warm and flexible enough to allow a full-range of unhindered movement. Courtesy of Fashionista, it is deceptively durable and generally bulletproof to small arms fire, along with stopping non-Cape-based physical assaults. Granted, the protection against firearms isn't perfect, and getting peppered by them would still leave her winded and likely bruised, despite it warding off penetration and keeping her insides inside. The overall purpose of her costume is to make her able to fake being a Tinker, and it has multiple easily accessed buttons underneath a bit of casing on the forearms. Most of them don't actually do anything, though one of them on each arm is a panic button if pressed in a special sequence. Other functional ones activate headlights of adjustable brightness along the jawline of the suit's helmet. The sides of the helmet have concealed buttons for comms, and the helmet has a "silenced" mode that seals it off aside from some oxygen vents to allow her speech to be carried solely to her comms and not any potential listeners. The helmet can also be switched to "fully sealed" mode for hazardous environments, preserving the inside from outside gasses or liquids. All the technological portions of this costume are completely mundane in nature at Jen's request and can be technically maintained without a Tinker; though Tinker assistance certainly helps with part production.
Beyond that, a pouch at the small of her back has space to contain pepper spray, zip-tie restraints, a small flashlight, a taser, an extendable baton, some first aid utilities and her Wards phone.
Jen currently has a couple requests for upgrades that were unable to be made with Redline's current resources. Said upgrades are in the works and would replace the presently mostly cosmetic armor: a layer of shock-absorbing gel to blunt kinetic energy further, allowing her to whether the physical blows of even some Capes. And actually functional armor that, despite being so slim, is deceptively durable, provides protection equivalent to much thicker armor, and doesn't compromise any of her current costume's flexibility.
Biography: Raised in a good life, there is no doubt that Jen Mackens was spoiled. She knew it and, more importantly, took advantage of it. To be sure, her life was a mostly average one, middle class at best, but she never really experienced hardship. Or, at least, nothing she would refer to as hardship. Born to the joining of a police officer and a private investigator, Jen grew up exposed to two sides of law enforcement... and wanted nothing to do with them. Oh sure, learning her father's tricks and tips was neat, but they just made it easier to solve daily annoyances. Sure, practicing martial arts for self-defense was only practical and kept her in shape, but it was only a fun hobby. One she was fairly passionate about, sure, but not anything she wanted to dedicate her life to.
Though caring, her mother could be overbearing, her standards high and disappointment in Jen's lack of ambition palpable, but Jen simply chose avoidance in response. School seemed pointless to her. Exposed to her father's often cynical words and worldview, she knew what was actually useful in the real world, that being very little of what she was tested on. Never the sort to enjoy wasting her time, her grades plummeted to just enough to get by rather than excelling, despite her objective intelligence. Scrabbling to decide what to do with her life and trying to look ahead, Jen hit a mental roadblock trying to decide where to invest her energy and here not to, trying to discern a life path that she'd never tire of. Despite pressure from her mother and the encouragement of her father as senior year dawned, Jen found herself completely unmotivated and discouraged. She came to the conclusion to settle for what she might already be good at, martial arts and potentially following her father's footsteps... to her mother chagrin.
Tensions were rising until, suddenly, they were cut down for a tension of an entirely different kind. Her mother had disappeared on the job. That was apparent after she didn't come home for a whole week. By the third day, Jen's father was already engaging in his own investigation, and by the fifth, Jen had managed to wring shocking answers from him. As it turned out, her mother was a Cape, a hero outside her normal work, and Jen was far from enthused. Already, she had developed a certain level of disdain for "costumed crusaders", seeing them as net drains on society, whether heroic or villainous. It wasn't necessarily that she cared about society itself, however, as she merely did how much Cape activities might impact her simple life.
Apparently, her mother had been investigating some sort of smuggling ring when she disappeared. While that hadn't actually been conveyed to her father, he had managed to figure it out on his own. One part of Jen wanted to help with her father's investigation. A part of her that loved both parents, regardless of any tensions, wanted to do her part to make sure everyone was okay. A crueler, spiteful part of her that hated being deceived briefly considered that this was as much as her mother deserved for her hypocrisy, for engaging in such a profession and expecting anything but an unfortunate end.
But it was the practical part of her that eventually convinced Jen to disregard emotional drives and approach the situation with realistic cynicism, and as such, she decided to leave well enough alone, to leave it to the professional that was her father and get on with her life. If the situation was really serious, surely the Guardians could be called in. Jen was just a schoolgirl, a normal person in a world of titans. There was no rational place for her in getting involved with something that was too dangerous for a Cape like her mother. So, she would get on with her life, hope for the best and be ready for the worst. It wasn't her business.
As someone surely sensible once said, "she missed the part where it was her problem".
And so proceeded a series of very unfortunate events
Heart stoked with a truly deep and abiding hatred she'd never experienced before, Jen would use her then hospitalized father's teachings and her new powers to go on a one-woman crusade against the criminal organization, ruthlessly brutalizing them and their operations, not for justice but personal vengeance. The capes, in particular, were disappeared, never to be heard from again. While the nature of her power ensured that actual proof of her involvement was pretty much impossible to acquire, reasonable detective work in regard to the incident would see Jen eventually meeting Director Fukuda. Jen, of course, played coy without relent, admitting to nothing, but in being effectively "outed" by the government, she wasn't in a good position to refuse their recruitment "offer". And while she couldn't technically be threatened with actionable legalities, she knew the PRT could ensure her life was a lot more difficult... and potentially find something they could actually hold over her if she put them in a position to dig further.
With her father made aware of the danger their family was potentially in, even with the destruction and overall dismantling of the organization responsible by Jen and the PRT follow-up, that would be the final nail in the coffin to Jen's enrollment in the Wards.
Powers/Skills:
Athleticism: She is a highly athletic and agile individual with abundant stamina for extended movement/running/fighting.
High Pain Tolerance/Willpower: She's learned to handle pain and aching muscles while taking fairly brutal martial arts, and gaining powers has only been a wake-up call to push herself to the edge time and again just in case. As long as she isn't entirely incapacitated, it's likely that she'll try to keep fighting.
Martial Arts: Muay Thai: Even before becoming a cape, she took martial arts and reached a level where she could actually put what she knew into practice beyond spars. Her style is a brutal boxing one using knees and elbows as much as fists and feet, but she's been known to "ad lib" things or forgo form entirely to be more unpredictable. This gives her a certain awareness of where it's safe to strike the human body to incapacitate foes relatively harmlessly... or where she needs to aim to do the most damage.
Swimming: Can swim pretty well, good enough to handle towing someone with her.
Out of Phase (Breaker 8/Stranger 7/Striker 5/Trump 2/Mover 2/Brute 1): Jen's power is selective tangibility that moves her into what she perceives as a parallel "world", completely identical to the real one but empty of life. Her power is always active to some degree, leaving her ever so slightly "out of phase" with the world, despite her appearing completely normal to mundane means and senses. As a result of being "dimensionally divergent", she is immune to effects that would alter the level of "Shard energy" flowing through her to alter, neutralize or supplement her present powerset, whether positive or negative, and her mind is always fully out of phase, leaving her immune to abilities that would directly manipulate her mind or control of her body. Thinker powers tend to be unreliable when targeting her.
Beyond her passive state, she can actively push her dimensional divergence further, resulting in varying physical tangibility until she chooses to adjust the degree or undo it. By default, she phases away from everything that she doesn't consider "her" or that she isn’t wearing or carrying, resulting in her becoming completely undetectable and intangible due to not actually physically remaining in her "world", shedding most outside power effects currently lingering upon her. In her phased state, she doesn't need oxygen, food or water, and she has an altered sense of gravity, allowing her to move like she's in space. While phased, she experiences the world as if through a watery filter, the normal world perfectly perceptible to her even if it would otherwise not be, and despite being able to still perceive the world, she is not vulnerable to indirect harm, like blinding lights or deafening sounds, all such things muted by the watery "filter".
Controlling the degree of her tangibility, Jen can choose what aspects of herself remain in interaction with the world and can alter them on the fly. For example, she can allow herself to be heard even without allowing herself to be detected by other senses. She can allow herself to be seen and yet remain intangible. She can attack and physically interact with the world while otherwise remaining undetectable. However, this selective tangibility is "all or nothing" in a sense. While Jen can choose which aspects of herself interact with the world, those aspects she allows are fully vulnerable in return. If she wants to be seen, that means allowing light to hit her, which means being vulnerable to flashbangs. If she wants to strike someone or otherwise physically move something, her entire body will in turn be vulnerable to kinetic harm in general, even if she is otherwise undetectable. While she can choose what she is affected by, those choices apply to her whole body, not just individual parts of it. As such, on an offense level, she cannot, for example, partially phase through the surface of a target, living or not, and strike the interior alone, disregarding the exterior/armor/skin/etc.
There is a small caveat to this "all or nothing" selectiveness in that, by default, her power doesn't phase her through the surface she is grounded on unless she chooses to, and she is capable of walking -or climbing- on normally harmful surfaces while phased without being threatened by them, despite the pseudo-physical contact.
Jen cannot bring other living beings with her into her phased state, and even nonliving targets have limits. If it individually has a greater weight than her own body, she can't bring it; though she can still bring multiple items that altogether surpass that range, so long as they each individually fall below it. That being said, what Jen's power considers to be "wearing or carrying" in terms of her possession is rather lenient. So long as Jen can physically take hold of a target, whether or not it is being worn or carried by someone else, she can then phase away with what she has grabbed, stealing it from the original owner. In this way, she is able to easily disarm opponents or otherwise render them unarmored, presuming her target is within her weight limit.
Threat Sense (Thinker 2): Any time Jen would be endangered in her immediate future (that is, the next 1-2 seconds), she is immediately aware that she will be in the form of a buzzing sensation. She has no prescient awareness of exactly what the danger will be, only that she, personally, in her present state, will be endangered by it. On its own, this power is fairly useless, but for Jen, it allows her enough time to fully enter her Breaker state to avoid threats. At the same time, it can act as an early warning that removing the protection of her Breaker state in a particular area will be a danger to her. This power does account for degree of threat, however, and the buzzing sensation will intensify based on how trivial or life-threatening the impending threat is.
Other: My favorite power sets involve time stopping or manipulation. Though speedsters are pretty sweet as well.
[youtube]WIP[/youtube] [youtube]WIP[/youtube]
Jen's lookin' clean! Go on and get her into characters :)
"Ah, feels good to be back in the swing of things. Now, where to start...?"
Name: ????
Alias: Writhe, The Seven's Head, The First.
Nicknames: N/A
Age: Unknown
Gender: Presumed Male
Personality: Writhe is the worst kind of monster; the one that still feigns a humanity it lost long ago. If it weren't for his unnatural, monstrous appearance, wreathed in shadow with tendrils hungering for prey practically trembling in anticipation, his personality wouldn't make you suspect a thing about him. He acts casually in any situation, even when there are others in The Seven who probably want his head. He never gives off anything more than an air of confidence and aura of pure assurance; he knows what he wants to do and how he'll do it, and will never hesitate, merely...Reconfigure his ideas, if something goes out of place, or piques a new interest in him.
Underneath that cool exterior is a vile creature. His existence, even by his own words, is to cause despair for others, to drive people into the depravity he knows they are capable of; and he wants to be the one to bear witness to it. That twisted desire, paired off with an unnatural charisma, may be what draws deviants to him, and be what allowed him to forge The Six initially. He takes great pleasure in that work, and surprisingly, just as much in seeing himself thwarted, to see the 'good guys' doing their best against his horrifying odds. After all, what good would wickedness be without its opposite to pair with? Dreadfully boring. And bored is the one thing Writhe never wants to be. He can be patient, and tolerate days, months, even years of silence...But inevitably, like a predator that had been caged, only to be abruptly released, he will always pursue his base nature at the earliest convenience. A beast, but with the social graces of the best of humankind. A terrifying combination.
One thing that interests him beyond his goal are Parahumans at large. Perhaps it is because they wear those cracks of the heart, mind, and soul on their sleeves with their abilities, instead of those who Writhe has had to break himself. Perhaps he can relate to them, knowing they've each got their own little demons, whereas he has become his. Or perhaps it is merely because he understands the potential each Parahuman has; the ability to change the world for the worse. Perhaps it is all of the above. Regardless, he takes special interest in them, evident in how he fights against Powered individuals of all sorts. He...Toys with them. Striking enough to keep them off balance, but taking his time to try and pry into their psyche; to understand them. To break them. Like some kind of deranged Shadow Shrink, he works his way into how they think and act, and then decides what to do from there.
Sometimes he just lets them go; maybe he's decided they're more trouble than they're worth, or he takes enough interest in them to let them see another day, but just doesn't want them with him. On other occasions, he may try and recruit them, preying on their vulnerabilities to find what he needs to say. Others, well...He doesn't like it, but sometimes, they just aren't very interesting. Those ones he disposes of pretty quickly. Just no fun. On the other hand, sometimes he takes an interest in an individual, but can't fit them into his spots; doesn't want them to just walk off, but they can't join him, or won't. In those cases, he just tries to break them until they submit or shatter, both are enjoyable for him either way. Emotionally, physically, even mentally. All fair game to him, and he likes to mix the three together for the best and most interesting results.
Normal people, civilians, are usually beneath his interest beyond their scope in his 'games' he plays with Capes. Just dull, living their quiet, mundane lives. Not even worth prying into. On occasion, though, he may find an otherwise normal individual that he takes an interest in; sees the spark of potential. Those people, he likes them a lot. It's one thing meeting like-minded individuals...It's another altogether to make one yourself. Those impressionable sorts, who just need a push in the right direction, or a shove into a place of darkness....It's ecstacy to him, making a new member over simply finding them.
Appearance: No one is certain why he looks the way he does; presumably it has to do with his ability, but even then, it's...Off-putting. Any time he shows up, he always looks like this. A mere shadow of a human being, nearly no discernable features to him. Just those piercing white eyes, the sole feature of an otherwise featureless form. He stands around 5'9, but...It fluctuates, changes with his almost fluid moments, terrifying as they are. His form no longer seems bound by a body in the human sense...Which only adds to his monstrous reputation.
Then there are the tendrils. Like extensions of himself, tentacles of inky darkness that stretch around him, eager to act...Eager to kill. If his size is left to be questioned, then these are even more puzzling. They seem to reach out from the center of his back, coiling around him; roughly the length of his arm. However, they can go far longer than that, stretching across the length of a street to pursue his targets, dragging them back to despair...
A flash of images, with feelings that mean nothing now to the thing that is Writhe. Whatever past this man had, it was cast aside the day he became this monster, and he has no intentions of returning...If he ever could to begin with. The first thing Writhe ever did, after all, was kill one of the original four of The Guardians; Shockwave. It was a horrific scene straight from a slasher, the kind of bloodied mess that could only come from a beast with nothing to lose, and nothing to gain. All that left was violent instinct, a desire to life. For what?
......
He didn't care. He would keep living.
Eventually, he found purpose, not through his own musings, but in what he discovered he was being painted as; the terrifying bogeyman who had killed a member of The Guardians, and thwarted the rest who had tried to contain him. Fooled Guardian, outskilled Amazon, and outmaneuvered Gatecrasher. He was a menace...Perhaps that was something worth being. And so it would be.
He traveled across the United States. Capes found it impossible to pin the man down; his method of travel was untraceable, and his attacks too unrelated and abrupt. He outthought Thinkers left and right, avoiding capture and always ending up on top. Eventually, attempts to track and contain the thing that was now being dubbed Writhe were ended. They resolved to doing damage control, arriving where he would appear, control the carnage, and try to apprehend him when they could.
This game of cat-and-mouse was different from the usual stuff of Capes, because this rat bit back. And soon, other vermin flocked...
People just as twisted as he, though perhaps not in the same ways. Still, it gave him an epiphany. His goal to sow fear and raise hell would be made all the easier, and certainly more interesting, with others that wished to join. A sick little family of freaks. How fitting. Thus, the Slaughterhouse Six was born.
This has gone on for almost twenty years, with the Six (or now, The Seven) getting beaten back, though never without loss of life...And hope. Even their latest defeat in New York, costing Writhe six of his fellow freaks, was not without horrific blowback. One of them, Fallout, could control and emit radiation, and focus it into radioactive bursts of energy. A fun power, and Writhe had big hopes for what would happen when he was pushed too far. He was proven right, since he went nuclear over The Big Apple, leveling most of the city along with himself. Writhe, of course, escape.
He has been on his lonesome for a time, perhaps giving the world a chance to breath. Just meant he had to raise the stakes even more for their next appearance...And bolster their numbers, of course.
Powers/Skills:
[DESIGNATION: Stranger 6/Mover 9
/Trump (Brute, Master, potential Thinker)]
Umbral Trespassing: Writhe's ability allows him to traverse in a 'shadow world', which he accesses by slipping into even a small spot where there are shadows to be seen, or where general darkness dominates the area. While in this area, Writhe is impossible to track and immune to nearly any form of assault, and in this area, he can traverse to any other spot where his power would be applicable and emerge there. This travel is not instantaneous, but it is far faster than he could traverse on foot. His high Mover ranking is less towards raw speed and more towards inconceivable levels of mobility. In an area of darkness, he can submerge and emerge nearly anywhere, striking from any possible location, all while practically camouflaged in the shadows, even his bright white eyes strangely remaining unseen in darkness. Writhe has been seen making unorthodox usage of this ability, such as sticking in limbs to strike out at different locations, while staying stationary in another spot, or dragging others into and through the 'shadow world', allowing him to control the locations of enemies and allies.
The Powers specified in this section are to remain out of the public eye for fear of raising additional concerns about The Seven and Writhe himself. This is also due to some of the Powers spoken of in this section to be speculative, as his skulking nature makes properly understanding his capabilities troublesome.
Shadow Body: His body seems entirely comprised of a pseudo-amorphous, shadow-like substance. It grants him Brute-level resilience to most conventional forms of offense to a noteworthy degree. Comparable, if not nearly as potent, as Progeny. Energy-based assaults, such as fire, lightning, or pure energy itself seem somewhat more effective, though not perfect. He seems to possess a sensitivity to light, and light-based attacks can cause notable damage to him. Natural sunlight or other forms of non-Powered sources of light, while causing minor pain and perhaps disorientating him, are not effective means of defeating him.
Unnatural Senses: Writhe possesses the ability to see flawlessly even in pitch darkness, and potentially also has the ability to detect things that are nearby or on top of shadows, as he has shown oddly high awareness in attempts to ambush him, implying some form of extrasensory ability.
Shadow Tendrils: Emerging from the center of his back, anywhere from two to six dark tentacle-like creations can sprout out, granting him his Master classification; unnatural extensions of himself that are stronger, faster, and tougher than he is, and can stretch out to 30 feet away from his position. However, he has ways to...Ignore this restriction. Apparently, these extensions can utilize his Trespass ability, extending through the 'shadow world' at even higher speeds than they already moved at, reaching out from the darkness to strike at targets. While their normal method of attack seems to be wrapping around the target's limbs to restrict movement, and then drag them off (or bludgeon them across the ground/walls as necessary), they can also act like spears, piercing into individuals and writhing around inside them to unpleasant degrees, effectively tearing them inside out. This is where his name originates...Because it's what he did to Shockwave.
Power Draining: His aforementioned 'Trump' classification, Parahumans within a currently unknown range of Writhe will began to experience a slow draining of their ability, which is expedited by proximity to Writhe, or God forbid direct contact from him or his tendrils. Eventually, the Power is restored after some time away from Writhe, usually multiple hours, on occasion even days if contact was prolonged. However, this is merely an aspect of the true effect his ability intends to perform...Regardless, he's able to 'flip' this ability on and off as he wishes, so as to ensure he isn't weakening fellow members of The Seven.
Life Siphoning: Those within his radius, or getting into contact with Writhe, begin to feel weaker, sluggish, feeble...Unwittingly having their very life taken from them. When used on Parahumans, their abilities interrupt this process, essentially interposing between the effect and their life force, at the cost of the ability itself weakening, and eventually failing altogether, rendering them just as vulnerable. While what the power does with this energy is unknown, presumptions from the Think Tank include it being used to extend his life, grant him temporary high-level Brute strength, or even simply as a fuel source for his other abilities. Perhaps all of the above. It is notable that he has never drained an individual to death; whether this is because he cannot, or because it doesn't serve his purposes, remains unknown. As mentioned before, this Power is not permanently on, and in fact, Writhe seems to keep it as a trump card of sorts for particularly troublesome scenarios.
Silence: Strangely enough, Writhe seems to give off no sounds beyond when he speaks. He cannot be heard breathing, the fall of his footsteps are completely silent to even the most superhuman of hearing, and even when he is struck, there is an odd, awful silence to it. On an equally strange note, he also seems to have no smell to him, either.
Parahuman Thinker: Given his unnatural 'charisma' and ability to interact with other Parahumans, we have reason to suspect he may possess a Thinker ability orientated around understanding other Parahumans and their abilities. This is entirely unconfirmed from the Think Tank, so it is mere speculation.
Other: The only concrete information the PRT has on Writhe's past is that he is almost certainly a former resident of the USA. Beyond that...He's a disturbingly large blank in history.
A bit of a delay, and I apologize. Mintz knows I was working on this character for a bit, and, while I had intended to go more brutish earlier, art helped with coming up with this.
Of course changes and things are fine. Blah blah blah. Lets get this man in here.
Also, cause I forgot, I have a strong preference for more the robotic Sci-Fi elements. Like Gundam, Transformers, etc. Though I can sit down and enjoy about anything.
"Why make it fancy when its just easier to pull the trigger?"
Character
Name: Aftershot
Nicknames/Titles: Small Shadow, Bot, Comet
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Ship Role: Marksman/Stealth Operations
Race: Cybertronian (otherwise known as Bots)
Cybertronian History
(There is some stuff changed here so… Let’s let an on and off again fan come up with this)
Cybertronians are this race of mechanical beings originating from Cybertron, with the ability to transform into a variety of different forms, though typically they stick to vehicles. They also primarily stick to one form per bot, as any more could lead to mental or physical torment. Their bodies can be modified to store their built in weapons, navigation, and flying systems, with almost all of them having the ability to fly while in robot mode, though only for short distances.
Cybertronians do not need typical things like food, oxygen, etc that many of the other races would need to survive. Instead, they consume energy to power themselves, with their preferred source of energy being aptly named Energon, which is a very fine and volatile gem-like resource filled with disruptive energy, sometimes even being too dangerous if consumed raw. Yet it provides the most amount of energy for a Cybertronian’s large body.
Speaking of, their physique typically has the bots being on the taller end, with the average height being that of a two story building and many of their alternative forms being vehicles for smaller races to ride around in. However, due to recent Energon shortages, and reliance on other power sources, many have taken to adopting smaller forms for ease of travel and more fuel efficiency. These forms typically are the size of an average humanoid, though they are fiercely dense. Weapons are also typically implemented within the Cybertronian built for war, with their arm often swapping between a normal hand, blaster, and some sort of melee weapon. Many non-combat bots have used this feature to allow them to quickly have access to the tool they need.
Cybertronians are advanced enough to come up with space travel and a lot of energy based weapons. They also have a rich sense of culture, exploring different avenues of music, art, etc. Many of them are pacifists, preferring to be scholars or architects, though there are enough stubborn blockheads and “wreckers,” a term often meant to refer to the more battle ready individuals, that they have developed multiple arenas for fighting.
However, they had a very harsh cast system set in place, where a Cybertronian is stuck in a job that they were designed for, and could never progress outside of that position. This has led to a massive civil war that span multiple decades, and even a couple of planets, before eventually coming to an end a year back, with compromises to try and eliminate the cast system for a more democratic vote, and allowing bots to do what they want, while being upgraded to perform certain tasks, with the option of changing it later.
Personality
Aftershot is a very serious, solemn, and reserved type of character. Actions speak louder than words to him, and he tries to get others to go along with this endeavor. He does fine many of the juvenile antics overly distracting and entirely unnecessary to get the job across, and may often prefer to work alone despite all that the team has done. Its just easier and more efficient that way.
Aftershot did go through the downsizing process, and does not regret it a bit. He did everything for his native race, his friends, his family. Shrinking down to give them more energy was a choice he was willing to make, even if some older bots make fun of him for it. This mindset also led as to why he joined the Decepticon movement in the first place, to overthrow the caste system and get bots a proper place.
Despite the rougher exterior, Aftershot is just a very sad bot, reminiscing about the war his people has gone through, and being one of the major leading members of this tyrannical leadership, having caused many different events due to his various modes and abilities. Aftershot was not a nice person, and his actions had consequences. Right now, he is just trying to look for redemption.
Aftershot does despise his weapon mode, as he claims it takes all his freedom and energy to deliver some powerful assaults. Using it too much can leave him feeling quite drained or sick as well.
Aftershot does often pick up various hobbies, ranging from card games to music, with it bouncing back and forth. He doesn’t want to talk about what happens, and prefers to keep his mind busy.
Biography
Aftershot was born on Cybertron, and almost immediately set into being a working class carrier bot, whose purpose was to deliver packages to different corresponding bots on the planet, or in other words: A delivery bot. Through this, Aftershot constantly saw the tribulations of his fellow Cybertronians, with many being left behind and unable to get out of their poverty and energy deficient ways. He was even looked down upon due to his more menial task that they could program other drones to do.
To vent his frustrations, Aftershot often went to the arena, watching as many strong and powerful bots clashed against each other. While he could never participate himself, being well under the weight requirement, he witnessed the sheer glory of the fight. Aftershot was a big fan of the ring leader, seeing his ploy and battle prowess.
After a while though, the reigning champ stopped coming. Doing his usual rounds, Aftershot noticed the champion again, this time on a monitor depicting his philosophy and how the world should change. ZNo bot would be left behind, and he was willing to go to the head council to pronounce this with a good friend of his that works in the data banks. Stocked for this as he wanted to see a better place for his people, Aftershot quickly joined this Decepticon side, and went to every rally he could.
Then the day came. The council had finally listened and allowed the champion and his friend to talk to them about changing the state of Cybertron. It was a long debate, but eventually the champion walked out. A solemn look was across his face as he mentioned to the crowd of Decepticons that the people on the council have ruled against the masses, and it was time to stand up for the little people. Everything that could be said to get the Decepticons to revolt, he said it, and they did.
So started the Cybertronian Civil War. Aftershot quickly enrolled to help the Decepticons on the belief that the council didn’t hear them. While Aftershot was never much of a fighter, he quickly rose through the ranks due to his unique speed and a surprisingly intuitive use of blasters. He even managed to hide and store away data to a very important military ship the Autobots used. However, this was never enough, and, feeling like he had to step up his game, Aftershot volunteered for some tricky augments.
The first few were simple enough. Obtain a throwable weapon that could be used in melee combat? Yes.Some more weapon augments for situational sniping? Yes. Stealth option? Yes. While all painful in their own right, they definitely seemed to help, even though Aftershot would’ve preferred a canon similar to the champ’s or EMP blasters similar to his second in command. The next two were the hardest and most painful.
While Aftershot was willing to shrink down to conserve energy, he didn’t expect it to involve quite as many shocks and dangerous experiments. Can always blame the lead scientist for his more deranged experiments for the logical mind. However, he didn’t expect his third mode to be added in. Instead of being a small ship, now Aftershot could transform into a miniature turret for the smaller races to use, or retract that in to attach to the bigger bots and be used either as a secondary gun, expanding his energy in exchange for saving their own ammo and energy, or for augmenting their assaults.
Despite despising this form, Aftershot tried to make good use of it when he can, even joining the front lines every now and again, and working alongside the champ himself in infiltrating a large transport vehicle that had a vast amount of Energon and information. Being used to kill the crew though…
Aftershot slowly started having doubts about the “revolution” as the champ kept calling it, but kept up his job at infiltrating different places, using his smaller size to sneak around larger bots. He even had to pull a few unique assassinations on key Autobot helpers across the two other planets that slowly became intertwined in this war. While it became easier for him, and he started adopting the efficient way as to not cause more pain to the victim, the dread was still felt.
It was close to the end of this war that Aftershot finally realized the truth. After infiltrating the Autobot headquarters, he monitored a meeting between the head bot, an upgraded version of the champ’s old friend, and some of his ground troops. Apparently the war had left major devastation in its wake, almost completely wiping out Cybertron’s lower class and running its energy dry, while devastating the population of a nearby planet, and the areas under the champ’s rule were in a much more tyrannical leadership role than expected. Many of the supposed leaders and heroes of the Decepticons were brutalizing a lot of the enslaved bits, with the lead scientist even changing some of the Autobot’s strongest soldiers into mindless beasts to turn back on them.
Ashamed for what has happened, and what he had helped, Aftershot fled. He grabbed some energon packs and kept flying out into space, using his stealth upgrades to bypass many of the blockages made up by both factions.
It must’ve been a few months later that a weakened Aftershot caught wind of the war being over while sitting at a small diner. The news broadcast even show the Autobot leader detailing the crimes, with a sorrowful look on the champ’s face. Despite meaning well, the champ got power hungry and wanted to enslave those beneath him, turning the caste system around. Though, upon feeling what it was like to be subjected beyond his control, the champ turned himself in. Many of the bots are still at large, with Aftershot’s name appearing with it. He couldn’t turn back now.
He managed to find the captain a few weeks later. Despite not entirely being what both of them expected, Aftershot’s ability with weapons and stealth came in handy enough times to be willingly let aboard the crew. Now, Aftershot often spends time in his room, alternating between different hobbies or fascinations to keep his mind busy, or practicing in the shooting range.
Powers/Skills
Flight: Both in his robot and vehicle mode, Aftershot can fly, though at much slower speeds in his robot mode.
Transformation:
Ship: Aftershot is able to transform into a small ship, allowing others to ride him. Of course it comes with its own unique blasters for aerial or space combat. He is also able to use his stealth mode to turn invisible in this mode.
Robot: His typical form. In this mode he walks around and talkies like a typical humanoid or alienoid being. He is able to retract his wings in a bit to give him a more sleeker form.
Weapon: Forgoing everything else in his arsenal, Aftershot is able to transform into a large canon that can attach to other machinery, given there is a port, or a turret for others to use. While he can still talk, Aftershot cannot move of his own volition, except moving the turret up and down.
Stealth Option: Aftershot, through augmentation, has the ability to cloak himself and make him appear invisible to both sonar and the visual eye. However, doing this for an extended period of time does take a lot of energy. It is unable to work in weapon mode.
Equipment
(These are built in, but since they can be seen on the surface when Aftershot uses them, they are listed here)
Blaster Hand: Aftershot is able to transform one or both of his hands into blasters, allowing him to shoot energy blasts separately stored as ammo from them. They can also be extended and given increased power for longer ranged shots.
Ninja Star Augments: A bit of an odd design choice, Aftershot chose to go for small round indention in his arms that can project spinning discs that have the ability to extend claws. He tends to use these to climb, cut, or even throw for less loud ranged options. He is able to remotely control them as well, having them return when needed. Both holsters carry 5 each, for a total of 10.
Black Visor: A small visor that can pop down to cover Aftershot’s eyes. It provides a heads up display, a visual feed through his ninja stars, and a communication tool to interact with others.
Other
While I used a bunch of names from the actual Transformers Universe, those are free to change.
I did want to leave the name vague for champ, right hand man, and scientist in case Mintz wants to go crazy here, but generally they are meant to be Megatron, Starscream, and Shockwave respectively. Best friend for the champ of course being Orion Pax, later known as Optimus Prime.
More of a cosmetic thing, when Aftershot wants to go into combat mode, two metal plates pop out from the side and cover his mouth, while his black visor pops down, fully covering him.
Aftershot’s form now has him standing at roughly 5’11, with his weight being about 300 pounds, though still maintaining a fit physique. Its just all metal baby.
Giving him a look-over, nothing seems wrong with Aftershot here! Although he might step on some small rat-like toes with his stealthy demeanor, but beyond that, I don't see much of a problem. If you wanna talk about editing him around in some fashion to avoid it, that's cool, but otherwise...
Welcome aboard! Feel free to get him up into Characters.
"You can count on me! But, er, y'might wanna check in 'fore ya mess with my tech..."
Name: Beverly Hillshire
Alias: Workshop
Nicknames: Bev, Hills
Age: 17
Gender: Female
Personality: Beverly can come off as...Hyperactive. When she's talking to others, in stark contrast to most other Tinkers, she's usually the one with the reins, dragging the conversation around as she bounces from topic to topic with mile-a-minute thoughts pouring from her head and through her mouth, and when she's on her own, you can usually catch her muttering to herself more often than she isn't.
Most of the time, she's completely unaware that she has devolved into utter rambling until someone can get her to shut her trap. She doesn't really do it intentionally; more of a side effect of her ability, and Bev does her best to keep it in check when she can. If you can get by her babbling, she's a southern sweetheart who just wants to do her best to be useful to other people, and she takes the opinions of others to heart...Perhaps more than she should. While outwardly quite put-together, energetic and excitable, her deep-seated need to be needed, and to have the appreciation of others, is something that both drives her and can drag her into dark places.
While not a complete sheep, Bev is quick to fold under positive reinforcement, and as such could be manipulated in these ways. She does her best to be her own boss and use her head, but in spite of being a Tinker, she finds her heart does most of the thinking for her...For better and worse.
Appearance: Miss Hillshire is clearly one of a good handful of high school gals to finally hit that final growth spurt, and the results speak for themselves. She stands at a respectable 5'9 ft., and weighs in at around 155 lbs. Which might be a bit of chub, but she's got plenty of muscle! Not quite the kind you get working out or the sort, but the kind earned by hard labor and hand-crafting affronts to the laws of the universe. Her skin is lightly tanned from hidden years making Tinkertech in the shipyard. Her face, while toughened by the nature of her work and a few experiments gone rogue, maintains a certain softness to it, and her sharp red eyes, while at first perhaps seen as fierce and intimidating, instead speak to her joyful nature as they sparkle with mirth in the heat of her passion projects, and a mass of curly brown hair that manages to cascade all the way to her waist.
She tries to keep her clothing simple, both because she doesn't particularly care about it, and because it'll make her work easier the less it gets in her way. She normally wears a teal blue sports top alongside a comfortable pair of black zip-up leggings. On her waist, she might normally have a dark blue hoodie tied there, but in the colder months of the year, she's usually wearing it instead. Lastly, she wears heavy-duty black boots and fingerless gloves. The boots might look a bit too large for her, but she likes them because they're airy and still keep the heavy snow out. Mostly.
As for her costume, well...She didn't think that far ahead. She's thinking maybe some kinda big mask? Maybe like a welder's? Ooh, that'd be cool! And probably some satchels or a bag for all the stuff she likes carrying around. That'd be good. And probably something better than her civvie clothes to cover her, though she's clueless on what. She'd make armor or something, but those don't come out too often....Oh well! She'll figure something out.
Biography: Beverly and her family weren't originally from Redline; about eight or nine years back (she's sorta forgotten), they moved from a quiet town in Oklahoma to way, way up to Maine because her pa got a job offer they couldn't resist. It hurt a bit, because she was happy with where she'd been from. Had some good friends, was doing well in school, getting involved in the neighborhood....But, well, some things just gotta happen.
She didn't fit in as well here, and the situation around the city was completely different from what she'd grown up with; it was scary, but more pressing for someone like her, it was confusing. She liked being able to understand things, yet she couldn't wrap her head around all the chaos, the gang wars, and most of all, the villains. But like an ostrich with its head in the sand, she decided to ignore these things that just couldn't fit into her brain, and move on with life.
Long story short....Redline happened.
Bev lost her pops, and her mom wasn't taking it well. Didn't help that shortly afterwards, her Tinker ability had manifested; for weeks it left her mind in shambles, sandwiched between her tidal wave of emotions and a disgusting flow of blueprints, concepts, and a desire to create. It's always those early weeks that are the hardest.
She learned to cope by hanging out in the shipyard. Her ma would've had her head if she knew about it, with all the gang stuff that went down this side of the city, but it kept her out of her spiraling parent's hair for a bit, and let her organize her disheveled thoughts as she took bits and pieces from scrapped ships, and began building...Things.
There was no rhyme or reason, and it pissed her off. She could never make what she wanted to make; only what her stupid head decided to. While eventually she grew to enjoy the process, of letting her mind wander and design whatever it fancied, she still holds some bitterness in how it functions. Still, she looked on the bright side; at least she wasn't a villain. Heck, when a member of The Mutants accidentally got ahold of something she had been working on, it put them on ice. Literally, like a cryogenic grenade. Making an impromptu citizen's arrest and not sticking around to be questioned, Bev was a bit giddy at the excitement building in her. Building her tech was one thing, but getting to see it in action was something else altogether!
Eventually, Beverly became anonymously known as The Shipyard Tinker, and due to the peculiarity of her devices and the mystery of her nature, none of the ill forces present attempted to pull anything with her. Heck, sometimes she even got to make small deals with some vigilantes or, on the rare chance, honest-to-gosh heroes who were interested in some Tinkertech to give them an edge. It was fun while it lasted!
Earlier this month, however, her little hideout was spoiled by Mr. Fukuda, though he made her an offer she couldn't possibly refuse. The Wards Initiative?! Becoming a proper Cape?! Working with OTHER CAPES HER AGE?! The thought was static to the mind and a charge to the heart. She hadn't managed to make much friends in her time at Redline, but surely this would be a good chance, and she'd get to help the good guys on top of it all! AND have access to PRT resources, even including the work of other Tinkers?! There was no way she was passing this up!
Powers/Skills:
[DESIGNATION: Tinker 5 (tentative 2 in any other given Classification)]
Chaos Creations: Beverly's Tinker talents are nearly limitless in thought, but quite so in practice. She generally does her best work making cheap, quick-and-easy devices that possess a short shelf life if not give consistent proper maintenance. However, her process also involves some...Peculiarities. For one, she has no conscious say in what exactly she makes, essentially Tinkering by instinct over anything else, and in fact has made things in her sleep more often than she'd admit. This means she just makes what she makes, and has to roll with it. This also means she generally doesn't know the exact applications of any given thing she makes, though she can usually intuit it well enough.
This also comes at the cost of focus. If she does attempt to properly work through a design and put her mind into it, it tampers with her natural process. Anything she makes this way generally becomes of much poorer make, more ineffective, or prone to being incredibly unstable and/or dangerous. The only things she can put some level of intent behind are builds based around the scanning and monitoring of vital signs, though she's hesitant to elaborate on why this might be.
Hands-On Learner: While not classified as being apart of her power (yet), Beverly possesses deft hands and is skilled at hastily putting things together, or taking them apart, and seems to gain a decent idea of how to do those processes to any other tech she lays her hands on. This might just be a talent of hers, but the PRT are still debating this being a possible Thinker, or perhaps even Striker, part of her capabilities.
Cooking Intuition: Beverly has gone on record to claim she has little to no experience cooking or learning to cook, but has shown a strange aptitude for it not unlike her ability to inherently Tinker without much thought, though thankfully without the edge of randomness. In other words, she's a very competent cook, and has a small hobby of making and baking sugary delights on some off-time, as she finds sweets helpful to give her an extra boost getting through her process.
Well-Built: While nowhere near superhumanly strong or fast, having to haul around all her junk by hand, and working it by hand, has built some impressive muscle on her, making her stronger and quicker than one might anticipate; though it's not like she's well-versed in hand-to-hand or anything.
Other: As her time as The Shipyard Tinker, she got offers extended to her from both The Mutants and Knight Aspirant. While she seriously considered KA, she ended up turning both of them down. Hopefully they don't put two and two together when Workshop makes her debut...
Regardless of limitations, I've already said my piece; I do not want a power like that here. If you can come up with something different or heavily work the concept you have, then I'm willing to listen, but otherwise, it is as I said. We're done with this power.
I think you need to fully explain your definition of Godmodding, since all it says in rule three is to make it so nobody is super perfect and dodges all attacks and thinks things all the way through. My character will not be that. My character is not a god. It's a time power. So what? So many characters within the world of Worm have time powers. I don't get the difference between theirs and mine. I obviously don't have enough weaknesses yet, but I can add more.
I'm going to be putting my foot down here; in general, while time powers aren't foreign to Worm as a setting, they are typically aggravating to work around in a lot of ways. Not to mention how you've compared it to Eri, who has undeniably one of the craziest abilities I've ever seen, and at the very least, she has the limitation of being a literal child, alongside it needing time to stock power, and her having effectively no control over it.
So, yeah, I'll be saying no to an ability like that. I feel it would be unfun for other players to work around, and irritating for me to try and work through with my antagonistic forces. Apologies here, but I really just want this chain of complaints to come to an end.
"Whoa, whoa! Watch the controls!! You almost sent the ship into 12 g turn. Only I'm allowed to do that."
Name: Wekan-Jha Harek
Nicknames/Titles: Wex, Sparky, Slippery Little Shit
Age: 43, roughly 25 years old in human terms
Gender: Male
Ship Role: Helmsman
Race: Elkhane
4328 VB Vesper-C is a name (or rather, a designation) that holds no meaning to your average, working class, clock-punching spacer fresh out of the Belts. Not only because of its location - far out on the edge of charted space - but also for the large, helpful, bright-red 'HAZARDOUS' marking appended to it on the aforementioned space charts, which has the magical affect of causing most bridge navigation officers to avoid the system entirely, and then promptly forget about it thirty seconds after the fact.
Indeed, Vesper-C doesn't even mean anything to the native inhabitants of the planet, who instead refer to it by the same name that they have for thousands of years: Hane Jhal. Home Sea.
Only dedicated academics and explorers thus refer to the planet this as Vesper-C. Not because of a contempt for the clearly sapient, civilized inhabitants of the planet, but because the planet itself repels almost every attempt to explore and categorize it, preventing the proper name for it and its inhabitants to become widespread. Even though "Vesperians" have started to become more common sights in spaceports, battlefields and (unfortunately) slave pens the Galaxy over, their origins are still poorly understood.
Hane Jhal is a rocky, terrestrial world that is notably larger than average, and with an entirely different core composition than worlds such as Earth. As a result, its magnetic field is absurdly strong. Metals such as iron are impossible to use in any practical sense while on the surface, as they will inevitably end up flying away (usually ripping through something important on the way) in the direction of the poles. This, as you can imagine, has especially unfortunate implications when it comes to the arrival of the largely metallic landing craft of visitors. Everything carries an unseen electrical charge - even, and especially, the native lifeforms. Thunderstorms are especially powerful, flashy, and devastating. Most forms of short-range communication are completely useless, as well as unheard of by the Elkhane. And, while cosmic radiation has almost no effect on the majority of the planet, there are hidden bands of extremely concentrated radiation near the most extreme points of the poles and the equator that only the Elkhane know the exact location of. To top it all off, every night almost the entire planetary sky is covered in intense aurorae, almost entirely obscuring the night sky.
Knowing all of this, it's a wonder that the Elkhane ever made it to the greater Galactic stage at all.
Out of such a hostile environment came a resilient, yet isolationist dominant species.
The Elkhane evolved from a species of serpent-like creatures dwelling in the shallow waters of the world's oceans, not unlike the electric eels of Earth. Like almost all other creatures on the planet, they evolved a complex navigational system that allowed them to pinpoint their location on the planet using both the electrical currents in their immediate environment and the magnetic energy across the globe. It is very, very difficult for an Elkhani to get lost on their own turf. However, take one to space for the first time, and the sudden loss of these extra senses is enough to render them completely catatonic for hours, if not days.
Elkhane are bipedal and roughly human-shaped, though that is where the similarities end. They have tough, rubbery blue or green skin and a head that is craggy and eel-like with a strong jaw full of pointed teeth. Their eyes are solid yellow or green, and each one has a pattern on their skin that glows faintly in the dark with mesmerizing bioluminescent patterns. Because of this, stealth is not the ideal role for an Elkhani. In fact, those that find themselves in need of some discretion tend to wear full-body concealing suits out in public, in order to hide their glow.
Elkhane are particularly receptive to the electric current in their surroundings, having evolved with several special organs that allow manipulation of these currents in coordination with their nervous system. Almost every Elkhani has the ability to pull in a small amount of the electricity in their immediate surroundings in order to increase the speed that their brains process and react to information, leading to inhumanly quick reaction times and incredibly well-adjusted snap decisions. If they experience highly stressful or traumatic situations on the regular, some even have the ability to do the reverse, using their own bodies to provide extra power to nearby electronics. There are even mythical accounts of highly skilled individuals harnessing electricity directly to kill or incapacitate their enemies, though this is generally believed to be made up by storytellers for dramatic effect.
Because of the hostile conditions of their planet and the particular path their technological development took, Elkhane society is extremely isolationist, clan-based and static. They live in massive, heavily fortified cities in order to protect themselves from extreme weather phenomena and the rare enemy invasion, and prefer not to explore or wander outside of their own territories. Many Elkhani never actually end up interacting with others from a different state, being incredibly sensitive to differences in dialect, dress, customs and norms.
Again because of planetary conditions and because of this deeply-ingrained stagnancy, the Elkhane never attempted to leave their own planet. They became aware of life outside of their own world when the first abortive attempts at exploration occurred, with debris from rapidly dismantled starships raining down amongst their cities and oceans. When the first successful contact finally occurred, with certain species landing in entirely non-magnetic spacecraft to facilitate diplomacy, celebration occurred on both sides of the interaction. As things go, however, the peaceful delegation was soon followed by one with much less benevolent intentions.
A few years after these first few peaceful interactions, slavers and raiders using ships of a similar design ruthlessly attacked Hane Jhal, abducting massive groups of Elkhani to be sold as servants, highly-trained guards, or pit fighters, among other things. They set up permanent bases in conquered cities on the planet, beginning a long and bitter border war with the surviving and much better defended Elkhani states. This conflict still rages on, with intervention unlikely as the planet goes largely unnoticed by the higher powers meant to uphold justice among the factions of the Galaxy.
Personality: The little pilot has a notable reputation as being a bit dodgy, not really worthy of your trust or reliance. For the most part, this is true, as Wex is a criminal with little in the way of moral hangups when it comes to self preservation. If it comes down to it, he'll steal the boots off your feet and leave you stranded. However, he is also a consummate professional when it comes to his trade, and if his job is to pilot a crew to safely, he takes it very seriously as long as he is able. As well, despite his bad character, he does occasionally have soft spots for certain people, and he does not murder or maim in cold blood.
He covers his calculating true self with a talkative, joking and sarcastic persona, much to the annoyance of everyone within earshot of him at any given time. This, too, has a purpose: it allows him to identify those most likely to space him in any group of people so that he can better keep an eye on them.
Biography: Wex was only a child when he, along with most of those in his community, were taken off-world by slavers. Though only just poised to enter adolescence, the young Elkhani had already gained a certain reputation amongst those in his city. Unlike most of the Elkhane, Wex was something of a free spirit, resenting the unchanging conditions of his people's society and longing for freedom and adventure. His wish had been granted, in some strange and twisted sense. He was separated from his family and roughly introduced to Galactic society as he was forced to begin the life of a slave.
Somehow, though, the young man's spirit was not broken by such an awful experience. No stranger to stealing the land and watercraft of his own people before being taken, he had developed a natural affinity for learning to pilot almost anything. After spending some time familiarizing himself as much as he could with the new technology of his captors, he launched an escape attempt, piloting an unattended spacecraft away from the station he had been held on. However, he only made it so far, having no comprehension of things such as faster-than-light travel, before he was easily recaptured.
The punishment for escape was brutal. Wex spent time both in torture chambers and in the most brutal, backbreaking working conditions on the station. He also never saw any of his species again. However, after a year he managed to devise a second escape attempt, which this time managed to succeed. However, his time as a slave had changed him. Though still using his carefree and jovial nature as a shield, Wex was now someone permanently in "survival mode," ready to do anything, or abandon anyone, in order to continue his existence. Having nothing to his name when he reached his first free spaceport, he managed to sign on as a pilot for a freighter. Though his piloting skills were noted to be exceptional, his reputation as a liar, a thief and a cheat ensured he did not last long. As the years went by, Wex continued to drift from bad crews, to worse crews, embedding himself deeper into the unsavory underbelly of the Galaxy whilst never staying in the same place for very long lest someone recognize his face as a fugitive slave with an outstanding bounty.
Though he never managed to stay in a crew's good graces for long, Wex survived on account of his distrustful nature and his reputation as a fantastic pilot, making him an invaluable asset. After a particularly close call on a botched job, Wex again found himself unemployed when he was contacted by Captain Kura. With precious little in the way of other options and the constant pressure on his back to keep from staying in the same place for too long, Wex immediately signed on as pilot of the Galatea, and helmsman for this strange new crew.
Powers/Skills:
Electrical Manipulation: Like the rest of his species, Wex has the ability to manipulate electric currents in his vicinity. For him, this usually is used to assist in his piloting, though it can have some detrimental effects. Bridge crews have often complained that, during particularly intense situations requiring complex flight maneuvers, their bridge consoles mysteriously short out. The lighting in the bridge has also been known to flicker and dim, and the electronics suddenly make strange noises at odd times when Wex is sitting in the pilot's chair. Wex has developed a particular skill at flying craft even without the use of some critical subsystems because of this. Because of his treatment as a slave, Wex is one of the few that can also occasionally cause the reverse effect. He likes to boast that he can make the engines on a small craft "go to 11."
Raw Piloting Ability: Even among a species noted for their capability as pilots, Wex is among the best, having been behind the controls of some craft or another since he was a child.
Shooting: What he lacks in physical strength, Wex makes up for in his ability to outdraw most opponents, firing off deadly and accurate shots with his sidearm before they can react.
Loudmouth: On account of never receiving a formal education, Wex has an extremely basic vocabulary. On the other hand, though, he has picked up an encyclopedic knowledge of various curses, rude phrases, and obscene gestures in the common languages as well as the obscure, and is able to string them together with devastating effect. His inability to ever shut up pairs rather well with this particular talent.
Equipment:
Prototype Plasma Magnum: This experimental sidearm was one of the things that Wex swiped during his second escape attempt from the slavers that ripped him from his homeworld (who had themselves previously swiped it from a military convoy), and it has been at his side ever since. Eight shots per cylinder, with a hair-trigger - this baby can punch a hole through the thickest of alien noggins, provided they're uncovered. The barrel is as big around as his hand, so it cannot be concealed, but oftentimes this works in his favor as its presence on his hip keeps the dumber brutes on any given crew from trying to take Wex out of the picture for whatever reason.
Magnetic Neural Compensator: Fits around the back of Wex's head, and is usually concealed under a wide-brimmed hat. This device is essential to allowing the Elkhani to function normally, as it prevents the usually disorienting side effects of being deprived of the strong magnetic field of his native environment. Without it, he will be subject to extreme confusion, lack of coordination, and severe headaches, to name a few.
Flash Grenades: Think fast! *BANG*
These aren't particularly useful for many situations, but one or two of them are easy enough to conceal and invaluable for allowing a certain criminal to get out of a tough spot.
Other:
Wex is only partially literate in anything other than his native language. Who has time to read, anyway?
While the average height for males of his species is only around 5'5", he's a particularly small and scrawny specimen at around 5'2".
There's a slave brand on the small of his back which is typically concealed by heavy clothing. I mean, is it cold on this ship, or what? Brr.
For my favorite sci-fi, my first and greatest love is Star Wars, though that's more fantasy in space than real sci-fi. I'm a big fan of the Alien franchise, and I've been getting into Star Trek a little through The Next Generation, though it's definitely not what I'm used to. I also really enjoy some of the old 4X space strategy games like Sword of the Stars and Sins of a Solar Empire.
Wex looks phenomenal! And it'll pay to have a quality pilot, that's for sure even if he'll undoubtedly get the occasional stink-eye from the Captain
Welcome aboard! Go ahead and throw this slippery little shit in Characters!
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