Venty

Thanks! Would you believe me if the intent was to only have it be around 5-8 paragraphs at first? The first draft was a lot smaller, but I just couldn't help myself. 1. While their home in Din'akk lended itself towards and isolation from the larger conflict, the Second Revolution arguably affected his family in the way of preserving their lifestyle, as well as providing Arkadi a way to eventually make his way off-world with the sudden departure he was forced to undertake. Though the PRA was hands-off to the region, that was not always going to be the case if they were allowed to continue their hold on the region. The DPRA/ALA ensured that their region remained as they liked it. Their control of Dolor, as well as the Free City of Crevus (see 4. below), would also eventually help Arkadi get off-world. 2. The Din'akk Mountains have been under two rules in Arkadi's lifetime: the PRA, and the ALA/DPRA. The PRA made little attempts to interfere with their lives during their presence, and the DPRA has actively continued that even further and allowed them to live as they please. As such, Arkadi has a supportive view of the DPRA. His time in Dolor following his forced departure has also lended him towards supporting the DPRA, as the industrial nature of the city- though foreign to him- has proved fascinating. His time in Dolor and his general life experience lends him towards Moderate Al'mariism, though he would certainly be fine with keeping the current Junta that watches over Din'akk. 3. Like most of the residents of Din'akk, Arkadi finds no particular problem with K'marr as the leader of their region. He leaves them alone and allows them to live their lives, and they leave him to do as he pleases in the quieter regions of DIn'akk. Though he no longer lives there, and has had time to learn more about K'marr, that has not changed his opinion in the slightest. 4. One of the struggles I found when I was working on this character's backstory was this: how do I get this Din'akk runaway from the DPRA out into the corporations, considering the state that forced him out of Din'akk to begin with? My reasoning for this sentence is that I honestly needed an excuse to get him off-planet, and I felt the corporations worked best. I unfortunately managed to miss that part of the DPRA's lore, but I believe I can work it in through the modification that Arssika was merely a recruiter that worked on-the-low in Dolor, finding promising individuals and working on getting them transport over to Crevus to be properly trained and hired, rather than someone who recruited for an active Hephaestus presence in Dolor. I'm not against making more drastic changes if that doesn't work, but any advice on the subject would be helpful. I am working with a character that doesn't exactly have the funds or means to make it to Crevus himself at that moment in time.

BYOND Ckey: VentClass Discord username: Venty (ventclass) Character names: - Ririlsk Kai'senia-Devorask, Shaft Miner - Kassid Rozul, Warden - Andre Tric, Security Officer Species you are applying to play: Tajara ------------------------------ General Whitelist Requirements What colour do you plan on making your first alien character?: (IPCs exempt) Light Brown, of some variation. Have you read the lore pages for the species you wish to be whitelisted for?: Repeatedly. It's one of my favorite specie lores, besides the Sinta'Unathi. Please provide well articulated answers to the following questions in a paragraph format. One paragraph minimum per question. Why do you wish to play this species?: Honestly, what first drew me to the species was the players who played them. They take the rather in-depth information and lore behind them and give it life, which is what got me interested in them to begin with. The lore was what got me truly interested in playing them though, as nearly everything is so in-depth and detailed that you could make a concept out of practically anything. The lore arcs ran for the Tajara have also been really fun, and the few times I got to play as a volunteer let me get a better look at the species and figure out if I actually wanted to play. What makes role-playing this species different than role-playing a human?: The Tajara are a politically divided and volatile species at the moment, with almost all Tajara having some connection to Adhomai and one of the three factions in some way. They've come out of two brutal revolutions, and are very much getting their footing in a massive galaxy all while trying to figure out how the future of their species is going to go. All of this changes even the most simple and basic of characters, as you have to take into account the faction of their homeland as well as their place in the decaying caste system and how it might have them be seen by other tajara and other species. Furthermore, the expectation of character conflict is more evident than ever with tajara as the cold war continues, drawing you into opposition with other characters you may not have met before simply for being opposed to your own faction. ------------------------------ Character Application Character Name: Arkadi Malki Write a backstory for your character. This may include their origin, education, personality and how they arrived to the SCCV Horizon. Arkadi Malki, a Hharar, was born in 2448 along the northern stretch of the Din'akk mountains into one of the many isolated valley villages that dotted its peaks. Born into a family of S'rendarr and Messa worshippers, his birth fell upon an unfortunate date: that of Shi-rra Arr'Kahata, the "Darkest Eclipse" of Adhomai. Rather than simply toss him out into the snows of the valley- a disturbingly common practice for those born on Shi-rra Arr'kahata- his parents found themselves unwilling to abandon their son despite the implications that came with it. They took advantage of the forced isolation that came with the event, hiding him away until the following day's evening before revealing him to the others in the village. Though his birth was celebrated for having missed the accursed date by the rest of the village, his parents could only hope their deception held out. Arkadi's family were farmers in the valley, who tended to a small crop of Blizzard Ears and Earthen-Root when the weather of the valley permitted it. They helped around the rest of the village when they couldn't, performing odd tasks and jobs to make due until conditions improved to resume farming. Arkadi was quickly brought into this lifestyle by his father Mikhail, who showed him how to work the fields ad caves they grew their crops in. His mother Anastasia, a cook in the tavern within their small village, took to teaching him what she could on cooking whenever his father didn't need help, the boy becoming a common site in the tavern's tiny kitchen and cramped rooms. In the evenings, the pair took to teaching their son on the Twin Suns, regaling him with tales of S'rendarr and Messa while warning him on the dangers of Raskara. The boy found it strange that they always talked about the moon with a strange look between them, speaking in hushed tones and locking the doors before they began. He had assumed, at the time, that it was simply because they didn't want the others to hear if they came by- they weren't supposed to mention it after all. However, as Arkadi began to grow older, it became apparent that something was off with him. There would be moments where he would suddenly drift off mid-sentence, staring off to the side without a word before his senses came back to him all at once. It had seemed like nothing at first, and his parents were quick to dismiss it as just that and continue on with their lives. Yet as it began to happen more and more frequently, Mikhail and Anastasia were forced to confront the fact that something was wrong with their son. And thought they had tried not to think on it since it had happened, the chance that the circumstances of his birth affected him seemed to be more and more likely. Thus, as the second revolution raged on in the rest of the world and the rebellion turned to war, Arkadi's parents sat him down one night and told him of how he had come into the world, and what that might mean for him. Throughout it all, they assured him of two things. The first: That they would not abandon him despite whatever might happen. The second: He wasn't to tell anyone of his birth, and that he must try and hide whatever was happening to him the best he could from the rest of the village. Though they were unsure of what he was truly experiencing, and could not say with certainty that it held relation to Raskara, they were not so certain that the rest of the village would be so accommodating. The life he knew changed after that night. Though he still worked with his father and mother in the day time and went on about the village as nothing was wrong, the nights changed. The lighthearted tales of the twin suns turned into intensive sermons and prayers. He would spend whatever moments he had of free time in reflection and reverence, ever-growing fears in his chest of what he might be. And as he grew into his teens and began to work more around the village as a helping hand, this only grew. The Second Revolution came and went outside of Din'akk, their homes now under the authority of the Democratic People's Republic of Adhomai and their mountains now under the watchful gaze of Alexeii K'marr, yet Arkadi found himself fighting a war only he could. It was one that raged in the freezing cold of the night, when his parents had long since fallen asleep and he only had himself, the lantern by his bed and his own mind to occupy him as he tried to fall asleep. The shadows that crawled at the edges of the room seemed to grow longer with each passing night, and his dreams morphed with them. Whispered words of something truly wrong spoke to him in hushed tones, telling him of what he could be- what he could have- if only he did not cling to the Suns as a lost child would. Of his destiny, a path through the snow lit by the moonlight, if he only dared step upon it. He awoke in sweats each time, murmuring prayer and asking for salvation that could only be found in the Suns' grace. But life went on all the same. Their farm grew with time, Arkadi now able to help his father more as he grew closer and closer to being an adult. He helped cook and serve alongside his mother in the tavern when he could, amongst other mundane tasks throughout the village. The strange pauses and drifts that he once felt as a child began to grow easier to control and hide, a vague feeling of unease building in him each time before they struck. And despite his fears and the struggle he felt inside, things were going well. Perhaps he had been worrying over nothing. Then, on the 3rd of December, 2465, the Liberation Army marched into the Din'akk mountains. They were in pursuit of a "corporate" ship, they had told them all as the soldiers went through. One that had deigned to trick them and tried to steal from the mountains, and who needed to be dealt with. The arrival of the army, and the news that spread of the destruction left by the intruders shocked the whole village, Arkadi and his family included. Who were these people, who thought themselves welcome to loot and pillage the homes of their neighbors and friends in the search of who knows what? Who were these outsiders to take what did not belong to them?! Though the village had never been friendly to those outside of the mountains, they had never taken to truly denying those who had come in the past. Yet that changed, and with it, the village did too. Almost a year passed as the village became more hostile, more paranoid in the aftermath of the corporate incursion. While it had never been a truly warm place before, it seemed the kindness and trust that many afforded each other had faded into a cool neutrality. His parents grew worried as the mood of the town seemed to affect Arkadi as well, whose pauses and moments of absence seemed to become more prevalent again- enough to be noticed by some in the village. The whispers that spread after seemed to create a distance between Arkadi and the rest of the village- one he struggled to understand. Had he not been here his whole life, trying to do right by them? Had he not grown up alongside the very same people that now looked him strangely, and whispered when they didn't think he could hear them? This growing distance, and soon, mistrust, all came to a head when news reached the valley that Shi-rra Arr'Kahata- the same eclipse that he had been born under, and one that had happened again back in his childhood, was due to happen early. The village had been in an uproar at first as the news was revealed, yet as the date approached, it only grew quieter. People prepared in grim anticipation, houses boarded and readied to be blocked. His own family stowed away into their home as the night before the day came, the hours spent praying and hoping that nothing would happen. That their house would not be visited by misfortune. The next morning, Arkadi awoke to his room black as pitch, and his mind racing. He had not dreamed, yet as he stared into the shadows that invaded his room and lit his lantern, he could still hear whispers. A tainted voice, talking as if right in his ear, of what could be. Of what should be. If only he would give in, and step outside. The Hharar still wasn't sure what had happened, the rest of that accursed day. It all went by in a blur, spent in frantic prayers murmured under his breath and screamed calls for something to help into his pillow as the shadows around him roiled and writhed with him. He couldn't tell if it was merely in his head, or if he was truly beneath the gaze of the moon- but he didn't care. He didn't want to find out. He just wanted it to be over. Shi-rra Arr'Kahata passed, and the next day came. Yet his nightmare was not quite over, as he awoke to his parents practically bursting into his room with empty bags and panicked expressions. Though the day before had passed in a haze for him, it had continued without incident for everyone else- and someone had either heard of seen him. Even as his parents urged him to throw what possessions he could into the bags and leave the village, rumor spread around the village. Rumors that he had been touched by Raskara, and that its voice spoke to him during the eclipse. That he was lost, and needed to be dealt with before he did something to someone. Thus, in the early morning hours of the 1st of November, under the nearly-pitch black shadows cast by the Din'akk, Arkadi Malki was hoisted up onto a Zhsram with what little he could pack and told to make for Dolor, outside of the valley he had known for all his life. And with the rest of the village waking up, and word spreading fast, there was only time for a quick goodbye and one final prayer together. Thus did he ride alone, through the frigid cold of the early morning on unfamiliar paths and an unfamiliar beast, towards the city of Dolor. Though luck had favored him in the city only being a (relatively) short ride from the range once he managed to get down the paths and through the forests, he still found himself riding into the industrialized city of Dolor with only what few belongings he had been able to pack and a some spare cash to his name. He found himself unsure of how to proceed, alone in an unfamiliar and massive city that bustled with peoples unfamiliar to him and culture foreign to him. Dressed in furs and leathers where all others wore factory-woven jumpsuits, he stood out like a fish out of water. His first few months were spent trying to get his footing in the city- each day seemingly bringing new discoveries and encounters for the Din'akk Hharar, for better or for worse. Used to the farmwork of his home, he found himself out of place in the factories and production centers that littered the city. He was able to find work quickly however as a laborer, using the strength he had built up over the years to proper purpose to earn some quick pay and secure a room and board before his funds ran out. As the months went on and the new year rolled in, he found himself unsure of what to do next. And then, as he was departing from yet another job in the late hours of one evening, he found himself approached by a man coated in green and orange- one that had an offer for him. He had been watching Arkadi for some time now, and had found him to be a hard worker. One that their "family" would be happy to welcome as more than a simple laborer, if he was willing to take a chance. He had told the man that he would need time to think about it, and he was handed a card. One for a Nikolai Arssika... ...of Hephtaestus Industries. He came to his decision the very next morning. He had no steady job as of right now, and this was not home. He could not rely on the generosity that did not exist in the strangers he knew here, and working whatever work he managed to scrounge together was only going to get him so far. And though he had been hesitant to approach others in the establishment he had found a bed in, the few he did reach out to had only told him good things. "Hephtaestus will get him far," "Hephtaestus is where you want to be," "Hephtaestus was his family when no one else bothered,"... He left the building to find the man already outside, a smirk on his muzzle. And with a quiet exchange of words, he was led downtown to someplace new. The months passed in a blur. He found himself learning of what he would be doing amongst not just Tajara, but... others as well. He had known about aliens for some time- even those in Din'akk had heard about them- but he found himself taught by a human instructor on how to speak Basic, what Hephtaestus was all about, what he would be expected to do... and more. He learned quickly of the wider world beyond Adhomai, and the reach that Hephtaestus had on it. Of the Chainlink, and of the place he was soon to be assigned to. The SCCV Horizon. Flagship of the Stellar Corporate Conglomerate... and the very same ship that had intruded on Din'akk only a scant year and a half before. ------------------------------------------------------------ How has the recent events of the Orion Spur impacted your character? Events such as the Phoron Scarcity, the Solarian Collapse or even the Invasions of Biesel for interstellar-wide affairs, while region-specific events such as the Peacekeeper Mandate, The Titan Rises or even Cold Dawn may impact your character. While the major events such as the Scarcity, Collapse or Invasions haven't had much effect on his life, the direct involvement of the Horizon within the Cold Dawn arc in the Din'akk mountains proved an active catalyst to shifting his life from that of a farmer's son to a tajara forced out into the wider stars. It served to created the conditions in his village that would lead to his hurried expulsion after the unexpected eclipse. It has also shaped much of his mindset in recent years, turning him into a much more nervous and unsure man compared to what he might have been. How does your character view the megacorporation they work for? Hephaestus came and offered him a place when he was lost and unsure of where to proceed next. And although the shock of everything he has learned- about both his new job, his employer, and the wider spur- has left him unbalanced, he finds himself grateful to Hephaestus for what they offer. Even in the short time he has been with the company, the welcome he has been shown by his coworkers, tajara or otherwise, have served to help cheer his spirits after his sudden departure from home and his village. He holds the corporation in high regard as a result, though he does worry that things might not hold up given time. After all, things changed so violently for him so quickly not too long ago- it might happen again. He can't be sure.

Two things: I have to appreciate my interactions with Bava, as limited as they still are, over the course of her return and her redemption arc. I was never originally here during her cargo years, so its been fun learning her story through her own actions and the talk of others. Has it been fun to play? And for a funny question: would Bava hit the dougie on the antags?

The others got me wanting to do Ririlsk properly, so: Excadrill: Ririlsk's first pokemon, given as a gift by his original father on his 16th as a Drilbur. The two of them have been through it all, and the mole has proven to be a welcome source of optimism during their days as exiles. In recent times, that good mood has improved even more, and it's not uncommon to see him out and about with Ririlsk in public. He is affectionately called "Drillbit" by Ririlsk. Midday Lycanroc: Caught as a Rockruff during a shift in his previous work as part of the Mining Guild. Until the arrival of his third team member, Lycanroc was Ririlsk's confidant in darker/more depressing matters and his guardian in many ways. Be it from incidents in the planetary mines, or attacks by other sinta after his exile, Lycanroc has been there for the sinta. "Kata" is what Ririlsk has taken to calling him; short for Kataphract. Hisuian Zoroark: She is the third member of his team, and one he never expected to meet. In fact, for a time, he hadn't even known she had begun to follow him- the only indication he got was a certain coldness when he slept, and times when those harassing him would suddenly appear terrified and run off mid-sentence. The reasons for why she chose to join him are something he still struggles to understand- though she can speak Sinta'Unathi through her kind's ability to learn and mimic, she refuses to tell him. He has a suspicion why, however. He calls her "Simi", primarily for the fact that she has often been there for him in some of his darker moments in recent days, in ways Kata or Drillbit can't be. Froslass: The fourth member of his team, caught on an abandoned and strangely frozen salvage site after a short battle between her and Simi. A troublemaker in so many ways, she is a recent catch. He still doesn't know much about her- but he does know that, for some reason, she wants to stick around. So, he puts up with the shenanigans. He calls her "Jessie", simply because it sounded nice.

A simple question that I thought up the other day: what would your character's pokemon team be? It can be any six pokemon, and doesn't have to be six if you don't want it to be. I'll throw Ririlsk out as a start: Ririlsk's Team: H!Zoroark Midday Lycanroc Froslass Excadrill

Reporting Personnel: Ririlsk Kai'senia Devorask Job Title of Reporting Personnel: Shaft Miner Game ID: cyD-dFQ6 Personnel Involved: Taylor Morgan, Security Officer - Offender Ririlsk Kai'senia-Devorask - Victim Azarii Marrkarr, Bridge Crewman - Witness Martijn Janzen - Witness Secondary Witnesses: Aida Styles, Security Officer - Initially got my coat from the Intrepid and gave it back to me. Qiang Pei, Captain - Was informed of the incident to incite Officer Morgan to finally return the coat. Fa'iq Al-Hakhamar, Head of Security - Was informed of the incident to incite Officer Morgan to finally return the coat. Aeolus Domenikos, Off-Duty Crewmember - An off-duty coworker who saw the start of the confrontation in the Intrepid between myself and Officer Morgan. Yuri Marik, Surgeon - Performed the surgeries on myself and Janzen, and kept us alive. Time of Incident: (If unable to provide, leave blank) Real Time: 16:20-18:44 MST, 3/15/2025 Location of Incident: Horizon Medical Bay + Intrepid + Security Department Nature of Incident: [ ] - Workplace Hazard [ ] - Accident/Injury [ ] - Destruction of Property [ ] - Neglect of Duty [] - Harassment [ ] - Assault [X] - Misconduct [X] - Theft and Attempted Blackmail Overview of the Incident: During the events of this shift, the Intrepid suffered a critical malfunction that left the interior (with exception of the cockpit) exposed to the void for a significant amount of time, where myself and off-duty Shaft Miner Martijn Janzen were without voidsuits due to the nature of the starting and ending locations of the flight (From the Point Verdent spaceport to the SCCV Horizon's hanger). The resulting injuries from void exposure left both me and Janzen with severe bruises, burns and popped lungs as a result, which necessitated our quick transport to medical. During the chaos of our transport, a coat I was wearing was thrown off to allow for a stabilizer harness to be fitted onto me. It was thrown to the side at the time, but later retrieved by Officer Aida Styles (who made significant effort to assist me and Janzen). At medical, our conditions were stabilized and it was determined we both needed surgery. Janzen had his surgery done by Yuri Marik first, while I was left with Amelia Dresden in the medical bay on an IV and medicine. During this time, Officer Aida Styles brought my jacket to medical and left it by the stretcher I was in, since I was in no condition to get up and put it on. Shortly afterward, Yuri Marik brought me into the surgery theater to help fix my lung, and afterwards, purged all remaining toxins and damages from my body. Once I was released, I went to get my jacket from where it had been left only to discover it was not there. I questioned some of the medical staff, who said they had not seen who had taken it, only that Aida Styles had brought it in for me as I had known. I return to the Intrepid with the intent to return back to the shore leave we had been granted that shift, and when I mention that my jacket was lost, Morgan had made a snide comment suggesting that he knew where it was. At this point, I began to question him on it. I will not lie, I was heated as a result of my surgery and the conditions that had led up to it. During the course of the conversation, Morgan revealed that he knew where it was, and suggested that I pay him in order to learn of its location and get it back. This resulted in a verbal altercation between myself and him, where several of my coworkers (the witnesses stated above) kept me from doing anything rash while trying to get Morgan to get my jacket back. It eventually culminated to the point I informed the Captain and the Head of Security of his actions, where they quickly demanded he return it on threat of suspension. And even when he did, he lost shore leave privileges for the rest of the shift. Regardless of this, I find it insulting and outraging that he decided to take my jacket while I was in surgery for a popped lung, and then had the audacity to try and make me pay him to give me back my stolen property! How low does a man have to be to steal from the injury? This can't be something that should be allowed, and this should be marked on his records. Submitted Evidence: While I unfortunately did not have my recorder on at the time of the incident, Captain Qiang Pei, Shaft Miner Martijn Janzen and Bridge Crewman Marrkarr can vouch for my words and Officer Morgan's actions. Would you like to be personally interviewed? [X] - Yes [ ] - No Did you report it to a Head of Staff or a superior? If so, who? If not, why? Fa'iq Al-Hakhamar, Head of Security and Qiang Pei, Captain Actions taken: They made him return my coat under threat of suspension, and later stripped him of rights to shore leave for the rest of that shift. Additional Notes: This man is a known menace aboard the ship who has repeatedly harassed other crew members and brought trouble anywhere he went. The fact he stole someone's clothes while they were under surgery, for serious injury no less, and then had the audacity to try and sell it back to the rightful owner? This can't be allowed on the ship, and should be rightfully punished.

With all I've interacted with his characters, be it as Ririlsk or Andre? It's an extremely easy +1 from me.

Osisra... where do I begin? In the last few months as Ririlsk, I've had a lot of contact with Osisra and the lore behind her clan, and it all points to one thing: she's a great character that adds to both the server and the players on it. While gruff and more than bit rough to most, she's got a good balance of being just likeable enough to want around and just unlikeable enough to drive conflict. I always enjoy seeing her in the round- and hey, without the Devorask, my own character's arc would've likely not developed as it had. So I can majorly appreciate that! She's also got a presence that I feel some Command are lacking. While she may occasionally reach beyond what her authority is, she does so in a way that feels right and makes sense, and doesn't do it often. Her presence often drives events during Extended and antag rounds, and her ability to lead is well-needed in the quiet rounds. All in all? A great character. Also auntie now. Ha.

Frank, throughout the years I've played alongside his characters, has shown time and time again to be a great roleplayer. Be it back in the day when I interacted with him as Kelsaso and co., or in the current day as Nikita and Ririlsk, I always see him making great characters and running them perfectly. They're flawed and have their issues, they have their strengths and their morals, everything. He brings a certain energy to the round that reminds me of the first days I came around the server, back during the Tide. The app is good, though I do have to ask how Ajax came to be with Orion Express, seeing how the backstory doesn't really go into that other than an open-ended exploration of what he can do with his newfound freedom. How did he come into the corporation? Other than that, this is an easy +1.

Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Charon Marston let his foot drop onto the wooden floor wordlessly. And for a moment, he didn't raise it back up. Then... Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. The doctor had said, back then, that doing these exercises would keep his thighs healthy. Get him used to the new legs, figure out how to use them properly. Get past old habits. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. He hadn't been a fan of it back then. It was a waste of time, making him focus on something he didn't want to think about. It felt like he was being treated like some helpless child. Like he couldn't do something as possible as bringing his legs up. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. He could've stopped years ago. His body was used to having metal legs. He was used to it. But something about the exercise just helped in a different way. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Working hard hours in space and in atmosphere, mining away at unused and forgotten worlds with nothing but a pickaxe and time left him exhausted. It made what was left of his bones feel like lead, and the prosthetics that kept him walking like obsidian. Certainly didn't help his lungs or heart, that was for sure. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Everyday, he woke up and did these exercises before he left. Because something about it helped work off the exhaustion of yesterday and the temptation of going back to sleep. It gave him a schedule he didn't used to have. Something to follow when all he wanted to do was drop. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. It was just something he had to do now. Not because he was told to, but because he wanted to. Because it helped him wake up, get ready and face the day. The alarm clock his body needed. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. Whir-thunk. If only his legs didn't make so much noise doing it.

The data was December 9th, 2465. For everyone else on the tiny salvager ship he called home and work, that date meant nothing. It was just another work day, floating through space, looking for a new place to pull apart at the seams. They got their gear on, sat in the breakroom listening to whatever was on the local radio chatter and waited for the ship to come to a stop. Just another day with Orion Express. But it meant something else for him. Ririlsk Guwan hung off the side of his cot in a wordless silence. Unlike his coworkers, he wasn't working today. He had the entire day off- twenty four hours all to himself, to do as he pleased with what amenities he and the ship had. A rarity for him, as he always took to shift whenever he could help it. If there was work to be done, he was at the front of the line with a crowbar and wrench in each hand. But not today. Not on December 9th. Sitting there on the edge of his cot, Ririlsk found his gaze locked on the photo he had gently in his claws. It was an old thing, frayed at the edges and beginning to lose its color. It was held in a simple wooden frame, carved by him years ago. He remembered when it was taken. It was their first day on the job. They had finally gotten accepted into the Baandr branch of the Miners' Guild, at the age of seventeen. They had all come in with a pep in their step and an eager swing to their tails, heads held high. Their mentors, shooting each other a look, had asked all of them to come together for a photo. "It is tradition," they had said, "to commemorate new arrivals, so that they may never be forgotten." It seemed so silly to him at the time. It was only now he knew how much it had meant. They were all standing close together, dressed in brand-new jumpsuits with their clan's mantles hanging off of their shoulders. To the left of the photo was X'liz- A tall and strong, with sharp features that made him look more like a dragon than a sinta. The perpetual neutral expression that he always wore had been traded for the smallest hint of a smile. But it wasn't in the smile he could tell the pride he felt. It was those golden eyes of his. Even these days, those golden eyes still shone bright. To the right of the photo was Ekana- short and wide, with rounded features that almost resembled a snake if you twisted your head right. A wide toothy grin accompanied a peace sign, hanging off of the shoulder of the figure in the middle. He had always been open with what he was feeling, especially back then. He brought a certain energy to the group that him and X'liz lacked. Ekana wasn't like that anymore. He wasn't even sure Ekana was around anymore. And right in the middle of the photo, with a quiet grin and a nervous look, was him. He looked better back then- his scales still shined back then, and although he had never been the most outgoing, he had always tried to keep himself in shape. It was far from the physique he had now, but for the time? He was rather fit. There was a light in his eyes he didn't see anymore. He felt his claws tighten around the frame. Like an iron vice beginning to close, his grip grew stronger and stronger with each moment. The wood, old and fragile, began to warp under his strength. His hands shook as he stared deeper and deeper into what he used to be, something cold in his chest growing exponentially by the second. The barracks around him fell away, the gentle hum of ventilation and the taste of recycled air disappearing in an instant. The date was December 9th, 2465. Today was the day he had hatched, all those years ago. Just as he felt the wood nearly begin to give in, he stopped. He stared into the red eyes that looked back at him from the photo, filled with an eagerness and hope that he no longer held, and felt... Hollow. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, simply staring at that old photo. It could've been less than a minute. It could've been hours. He didn't know. He didn't care. It was only when he felt like he was being watched that the world returned and he tore his eyes away from him. From the airlock, regarding him with a blank expression, was another sinta. He was around the same height as himself, with dark green scales and a cobra's making to him. He was dressed in overalls, with the joints of a RIG formed around and under his shoulders. An old Hephaestus veteran that had made the switch to Orion when it had come to be, he was told. The older salvager had more than a few years seniority over him, and most days, simply ignored him. But that was fine. He expected it. He was Guwan, after all. For a time, the sinta regarded him silently. There was a small package in his left hand, wrapped in the brown shipping paper they used occasionally. A latent fear took hold that made him remain still, one that often took him when other sinta kept their attention on him. One that demanded he not dare even breath in their direction, let alone speak. After a moment, the sinta moved to close the distance. He stepped forward with heavy bootfalls, and stopped only a few feet away. And with a small flick of the wrist, dropped the package into his lap. Barely keeping himself from jumping, Ririlsk glanced down at the item. He set aside the frame of the photo onto the bed, and with careful hands, took up the package. "I'm told today is your hatching day, Guwan." The older sinta remarked in a matter-of-fact way. He glanced up, and after a moment, nodded. "Y-yes... yes, i-it is, sir." The sinta hummed and nodded. "Then that is for you." And without another word, he turned around and left as quickly as he had come. The airlock hissed as he moved back out into the hall, and left Ririlsk alone once more. Staring at the airlock for a moment more, his attention turned back to the tiny brown package in his lap. Gingerly picking it up, he pulled a claw across the top of the paper. It tore easily, coming off with only a few tugs afterwards to reveal... A red and black cloth. For a minute, he simply stared at it in silence. Then, before he realized it, something on his face felt wet. He wiped at it with his free hand, and flinched when he came back with a wet sleeve. Then the obvious realization hit him. He was crying. He shouldn't be. He knew he shouldn't be. It was a waste of time and energy. And he was supposed to be enjoying himself today. That's what everyone says he should be doing on his hatching day. But he didn't really care right now, he realized. Ririlsk gingerly took the bandana and placed it onto the picture frame next to him. And with careful hands, he brought both over to the small bed table next to his cot. There they sat, before he allowed himself to lay down onto the bed. Today was his day off. His hatching day. One day he was supposed to be happy. But today was not a happy day. Today would be a day to mourn. Today was the day he mourned for someone who wasn't anymore.

Hi, all. In recent months I've been trying to make a return to the server after a few years of hiatus, and as always, I've grown curious as to what people think of my characters. Thus, figured I'd make an updated thread from the one I had... what, four years ago? Five? I forget. It's been a really long time. Basically, whatever you think about my characters, my roleplay, and my ideas? Throw them here. I welcome everything. Here's the characters I play as of late: Ririlsk Guwan: A shaft miner working with Orion, originating from Moghes and a (technical) citizen of the Hegemony. An exile to his people and rather lost in the current day with how to proceed, he mines and works and lives as he needs to while trying to keep a semblance of the normality he's started to adopt. Jesse Quinn: A cargo technician working with Orion, from an unremarkable family and business out in the Coalition of Colonies. Just a normal guy, trying to do work despite an injury to his person. Andre Tric: A security officer with Eagle Corp of the PMCG, fresh out of Jintarian Venus with hopes of getting somewhere and a will to prove himself. Still new and still getting used to space, though he's found some friends on the ship. Of course, I have old characters too. Ventus Dagna, Rebecca Holand, Alexia Avanes, Azuksi. If you have anything to say on anyone, go ahead. I won't say no. And just for the record, if you want to be harsh, be harsh. I welcome all criticism and skepticism. I view it as integral to my improvement as a character and story writer.

At the very edge of his vision, something moved. Whirling about, James aimed the end of his accelerator off into the darkness. The light from his suit illuminated the asteroid in front of him, revealing... nothing. Just rock, stone and his own footprints. 'Just a trick o' the mind, kid', he heard O'Malley assure him over the radio. 'The dark's messin' with ya. Relax, put on yer lantern, and get back to it. We got's a quota t' meet.' James sighed, and turned back to the rocky wall. 'Yeah, of course sir.' Shifting his stance to hold the accelerator against his shoulder, he took in a breath of recycled oxygen and... The gun kicked as he pressed the trigger, and he watched as a portion of what used to be near-impenetrable asteroid disintegrated under the concentrated force of a dozen megapascals, if not more. All that remained were mere particles, floating harmlessly in the void as he stepped forward. Blast after blast shattered through the rock in front and around him, only pausing to give him a chance to pull his box with him as he advanced. With each boom, he saw specks of his prizes flow from the stone- coal, hematite, galena, bauxite. And in-between those, he saw the blue sparkles that radiated through his HUD: his real goal. Turning his gun towards the closest of the indicators, he hesitated for only a moment before pulling the trigger. The rock caved in, and from it, bits and pieces of glittering yellow floated around and towards him. He lowered the gun and took one of the larger chunks in hand. In the voidsuit's light, reflected in his visor, was a solid chunk of raw gold. He grinned. This was the first time he'd ever gotten to ever hold gold, let alone find it. Turning around, he shoved the chunk into the massive box of ore behind him, and got to collecting the rest. Specks and fragments floated all around him, and each wave of the ore bag he had been given got more and more. It seemed like he- In one of the pieces, he saw the reflection of something moving fast. James scrambled to turn around and bring his accelerator up, but it was too late. Before he knew it, something latched onto his arm and tore. He screamed as a fish seemingly larger than his head and with teeth sharper than the pick on his hip tried its damnedest to tear his arm out and off. The accelerator tumbled out of his hands and floated out of reach, leaving him scrambling for the machete at his other hip. His arm burned in an indescribable way as he felt the joints of his voidsuit strain under the assault, not helped by his wild movements or the fish's thrashing. After a moment, he managed to rip the machete from its sheath and swung as hard as he could manage at the fish's head. His blow struck true and caved into the carp's head, sending blood all over and splattering onto his visor. Blinded, yet still feeling the wild thrashing of the now-wounded fish on his arm, he swung again and again until he felt the thing let go. 'James, the hell happened over there?!' James heard O'Malley shout as he swiped the blood off his visor. With his vision clear, he got the clear sight of the carp's bloodied and ruined corpse floating away from him, the shaking hand that still held the machete firmly in his grasp- And the torn, leaking end of his voidsuit's arm, now exposed to the vacuum. All at once, he felt the air and pressure in his suit begin to dissipate, and before he even knew what he was doing, he ran. Even after a few seconds, he felt the effects- his arm felt like it was on fire and frozen solid, and it was only getting worse. He vaguely heard his coworker shout for him again over the radio as he sprinted through the rocky tunnels, held down only by the magboot's suction on the ground. The ship wasn't far off. He didn't go far. He could make it. Blood pulsed and flowed from his arm as it began to fully depressurize, the water that made up his core beginning to boil as he saw the airlock of the tiny shuttle they had flown in on. It seared, the pain making his vision go bright as he tried to stumble forward and hit the cycle valve. Only for his world to burn as he felt something hit him from behind and latch on to his neck. In those final moments, just as he hit the valve, he swore he saw a bladed limb cut along the throat of his suit. And in those final moments, he swore he felt it tear through.

There is no greater disgrace than to be named Guwan. Many non-sinta have questioned me in the past as to what it means to be a Guwan. They ask what power such a title could have over me, and why I allow it to rule me as it does now. And my answer to that question is always the same: "The power comes in the name's meaning: Exile." One's clan is everything to a sinta. It is their family, their brothers and sisters in life and death. It is their community, who you work and worship alongside. It is their life, from which all pursuits and goals revolve around. It defines you, gives you purpose, gives you meaning. To be named Guwan is to be cast off from that. You lose your family. You lose your community. You lose your life. You lose anything and everything that has made you up to that point, and are left adrift in a society that now looks upon you with nothing but scorn. There is no salvation in the hands of another, nor sanctuary from the cruel universe that we live in. There is only torment and agony, brought at the hands of others. And as in life, as in death. To die a Guwan is to never know the glory of the Beastlands. Never will you meet your ancestors and hear their stories. Never will you see the glory of Sk'akh and become one with them. Never will you hunt and feast to your heart's content upon the fattest and most worthwhile of beasts. The only future you will know in the afterlife as a Guwan will be the burning sands and searing metal of the Chained Lands, and the torment of those who have given in to its agony. Do you understand now? To be named Guwan is to be cast off from all that makes you, and to lose all hope for that which is yet to come. You lose your past, you lose your present, and most importantly, you lose your future. There is nothing for a Guwan in this life or the next. Nothing. And yet, despite this nothingness, there is a slight hope. For even a Guwan may be redeemed, through effort or mercy. I have seen it happen. I have seen those deemed damned by all brought back into the blessed fold of a clan, and given purpose again. For some rare few of us, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It is for this reason that I work endlessly. I put myself through the hardest work and suffer the greatest indignities to see myself redeemed in the eyes of my peers. Every agony and every pain serve this purpose. My silence as I am beaten senseless and my reticence when I am shouted down serve this purpose. The sacrifice of my hopes and my dreams to see others rise up serve this purpose. Put me through it all. Beat me, break me, shatter me into a million pieces. See my soul scarred and burned, and my pride hung by the neck. See the end to all that makes me, that I may see the light at the end of this cold tunnel and know the warmth of redemption when all is said and done. Take me upon the long jagged road to redemption. I am ready.