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ʜᴏᴡ ꜰᴀʀ ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛᴏᴍᴏʀʀᴏᴡ? | ᴀ ʀɪᴍᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴏᴅʏꜱꜱᴇʏ | ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ

Tenzai

ᴘᴜʀᴠᴇʏᴏʀ ᴏꜰ ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ᴇɴᴅɪɴɢꜱ
Joined
Nov 10, 2023
Location
ʜᴀʟꜰᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀᴛᴜʀɴ
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Age: 28

Background:
Pious Soldier | Once a noble scion of a dying lineage, Fortuna, the paladin had sought the best lives for those she loved. By living a life following her faith and remaining true to her word, she inherited a blessed spear from her church that allowed her to hone her skills and channel it into a point she could direct against any who stood in the way of her and the goals of her heart. By wielding it for the sake of protecting those she loved, she eventually grew to become a imperial cataphract, serving as the first line of defense alongside her only brother as a way to continue to hone her edge while protecting what remained of her bloodline. In time, the two had made it through several glitter wars together, only to one day end up being hired as security for a research vessel once the wars were said and done.

Unfortunately however, this vessel, the RSS Charon, was doomed to fall prey to an unknown enemy inhabiting Tartarus XIII. Forced to withdraw and take one of the escape pods, she was only able to take her spear with her. Though before she managed to escape, she saw her brother, Ethos, making it onboard one of the other escape pods. Bound to her care for her family and the promise she made to her parents to keep him safe, Fortuna is convicted in her pursuit to find her brother again. She wouldn't let anything get in the way of her promises, neither the words of the other colonists nor the planet's extinguishing the fire of her soul itself.​

Personality:
  • Tough - Due to her training since being a child to one day be a space knight under a noble family, Fortuna had grown resilient to the lingering effects of pain, able to push through punishment that would send others into a coma undeterred
  • Faithful - Despite her misfortune, Fortuna's relationship with her religion remains anything but extinguished. She would use it to inspire courage from herself and allies before battle. She would pray to deities that wouldn't listen, all for the hope that with enough pleading, one will come to her aid.
  • Stubborn - Once she sets her mind to a task, she will most likely refuse any shifts in the plan. Preferring to fight the way she always did, instead of shifting her combat doctrine to better fit the colony's strategies without question, she has to be convinced that it would be meaningful enough to try instead of charging face first to handle her problems first hand.
Starting Item: An anointed spear nicknamed the Galatina gifted by the chaplain that acted as her and Ethos' dad while they were growing up
Bonds: Ethos - Brother
Genes/Prosthetics: N/A
Scars/Phobias: Fear of Drowning/Turbulent Water
  • Strength: 18
    • Melee **
    • Construction *
    • Mining
  • Dexterity: 10
    • Shooting -
    • Crafting
  • Constitution: 16
  • Intelligence: 8
    • Medicine
    • Cooking
    • Research
  • Wisdom: 16
    • Animals
    • Growing
  • Charisma: 16
    • Social
    • Artistic *


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Age: 26

Background:
Nyxia spent much of her childhood in an isolation ward after being diagnosed with a rare disease with no cure. She had minimal human contact with others and exercised little, stunting her growth and making her frail compared to the other baseliners. What interaction she did have was with nurses and researchers trying to find a way to cure her condition, making her far more knowledgable about medicine then most children. Most forms of entertainment usually available to children were cut off from her within her isolation, so she spent much of her time reading books, watching documentaries, and trying to learn as much as she could about the outside world that was cut off from her. Eventually, a drug was produced to suppress her condition, but it would never be cured. Luckily, the compounds needed to synthesize the drug can be found quite readily on Rimworlds, so the suppressant is never far away, as long as one has the equipment to produce it...

After being released from her isolation, Nyxia finally entered into the social life of her planet, one that was dominated by an ultra-authoritarian regime who was more than happy to press her into service as a researcher, researching what? Nyx always seems to dodge the question... What is known is that at some point after gaining her supposed 'freedom' from her sickly childhood, she defected from her government and bought passage off-world, eventually ending up on the RSS Charon as a medical officer before it's tragic destruction orbiting Tartarus XIII.​

Personality Traits:
  • Super-Immune: Years of experimental treatments and medical experiments to 'correct' Nyxia's condition have left her with an immune system capable of fending off almost any infection with relative ease, even if she is physically frail.
  • Neurotic: Isolation and social awkwardness have made Nyxia neurotic, to put it lightly, making her diligent in her work but extremely prone to mental breaks when under stress, like crashing onto a planet for example.
  • Recluse: Nyxia spent much of her life alone, either in an isolation ward or running from government authorities desperate to drag her back to her homeworld. This means that she prefers to spend much of her time alone, both out of comfort and fear that she can't entirely trust anyone.
Starting Items:
A medbag used when exploring the surface of planets for surveying, it has supplies that can be used to pack normal wounds that you might expect while exploring: bandages, plasters, gauze, painkillers, a needle and thread for stitches, a splint for broken bones and a pack of surgical equipment.​

Bonds: None (What a loser)

Genes/Prosthetics:
  • Super Immunity
  • Morvus Vermiculus (a Degenerative Disease that affects movement/consciousness without treatment)
  • Heterochromia
Scars/Phobias:
  • Several old gunshot wounds/scars on her back and left thigh received when fleeing her planet.
  • Phobia of people in full hazmat suits from childhood trauma.
  • Minor Phobia of military style uniforms.

  • Strength: 9
    • Melee
    • Construction
    • Mining
  • Dexterity: 10
    • Shooting
    • Crafting *
  • Constitution: 12
  • Intelligence: 17
    • Medicine **
    • Cooking
    • Research *
  • Wisdom: 10
    • Animals
    • Growing
  • Charisma: 8
    • Social -
    • Artistic

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Age: 26

Background:
The Black Beasts. For many, the name of an urban legend. Stories of an underworld organization whose sole purpose is to put humanity above all other species often reach the ears of people in far-off worlds, usually in casual conversation and almost always laughed off as nothing more than one of many fairytales in the cosmos. Sure, there are humans who would believe themselves above other, 'alien' species (at least, alien to them), but no one would go as far as committing terrorism for such an ideal. Such, that the name of The Black Beasts is only uttered in ridicule.

For people like Luka, it was once his home. At the moment of his birth, he was not given a name, but instead a number. #727260, born just after his twin brother, #727259. His parents were high-ranking officers and part of the Snake Pack, one of countless groups trained in specializations ranging from sabotage to assassination and some even making it into high political positions under pseudonyms. Luka, like many other children born into the organization, was trained from a young age to become one of its many loyal soldiers, brainwashed into believing in human supremacy. As soon as he turned of age, he was branded with the owl, a tattoo rare even amongst the top operatives. He was to be a sniper that would eliminate all of The Black Beasts' enemies swiftly and without a sound.

Luka served loyally for many years, bloodying his hands without a second thought. But one day, he failed. It was a day like any other, receiving his directive through an encrypted channel. Yet another assassination, except there was no name, but a number. #727259. His brother had turned his back on the pack and it was his duty to bring him back dead or alive. Preferably dead, for they had no use for a traitor. Luka went to the place where his brother was seen last, perched on his nest like any other job. His scope trained on the back of his twin brother's head and his finger on trigger.

He hesitated. For the first time in his life, he wavered. His finger wouldn't pull on it. He watched as his brother walked away and disappeared from his view. A minute later, he got another encrypted message. It had only a handful of words, but more than enough for him to understand.
"Take back your identity, Luka Auguste. Go to the RSS Charon. Someone'll be waiting for you there."


Appearance:
Standing at 5'5", Luka can be described as a short, slim man. Although seeming weak because of his unassuming nature, his body is trim and muscular underneath his often baggy clothes, his long legs toned from a rigid training regime. He means to blend into his environment, never standing out and never being too loud. His body is covered in battle scars, whether it is from his training within The Black Beasts, cuts and bullet marks crossing throughout his entire upper frame. He tends to keep his long, light-brown hair loose when not on duty and ties it up in a high ponytail while working so that it doesn't get in his way.

He avoids wearing anything eye-catching to avoid attention, but does keep his nails painted black. His ears are also pierced with a variety of plasteel piercings that were used to identify him within his Pack. In addition, he was tattooed with the likeness of an owl on his upper right shoulder, further branding him as a Black Beast. While one of his eyes is a natural light blue, his right eye was replaced with a bionic eye that is a piercing gold, like the eye of an owl.​

Personality:
  • Loyal - To those he swears his fealty to, he will never betray their trust and would rather die than sell them out.
  • Cynical - He does not easily believe what others say at face value, and will doubt people's intentions while keeping them at arm's length. He has seen the worst of people many times and believes that selflessness is an illusion to lull others into lowering their guard.
  • Compulsive - Unafraid of speaking his mind, he will often blurt out his thoughts without concern for tact or worrying about misunderstandings. Although patient when it comes to pulling the trigger, he will not think twice about putting someone in the middle of his scope.

Starting Item:
His trusted sniper rifle. It used to be heavily modified to be silent, have enough piercing and stopping power to shoot through a heavy tank and feed him information such as wind speed and the biometrics of his target. After the crash, all his modifications were fried and rendered obsolete. While still heavily customizable and deadly still, it is a far cry from what it once was and he has no resources to repair it currently.​

Bonds: None
Genes/Prosthetics:
  • A pair of synthetic lungs that allow him to survive under hostile environments for extended amounts of time and to hold his breath for upwards of seven to eight minutes. They also make him immune to the negative effects of inhaling smoke, which makes his smoking habit sustainable.
  • His bionic eye that lets him zoom up to x4 his normal vision and also grants him slight night vision.
Scars/Phobias: Gunshot and cut scars on his body. No phobias to speak of.
  • Strength: 16
    • Melee **
    • Construction
    • Mining
  • Dexterity: 12
    • Shooting *
    • Crafting
  • Constitution: 14
  • Intelligence: 10
    • Medicine *
    • Cooking
    • Research
  • Wisdom: 8
    • Animals
    • Growing
  • Charisma: 10
    • Social -
    • Artistic

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Age: 22

Background:
Shelter child | Dahlia grew up on a world entirely consumed by toxic fallout. She rarely saw the sun or the surface. Dahlia was sickly since she was a child, catching anything and everything despite being so sheltered. First chance she got, she left her colony at seventeen to research for cures to restore her planet no matter how long it takes. She eventually discovered the Gauranlen tree. A tree that can connect to a human to grow dryads capable of producing organic goods. Immune to the same toxic fallout that took over her home. She researched this tree and stared bonding and creating dryads for years. Dahlia was on her way to a ruined planet with saplings and dryads in tow, ready to help restore the lost ecosystem for what was known as “Project New Eden”, before the ship was ultimately attacked and set on a crash course to the nearest rim world. Trying to save her saplings and dryads proved futile, as she nearly perished in the explosions. Now sick, injured, and awake cradling a single guaralen pod, she’s determined to help this world too.​

Appearance:
Dahlia stands fairly short and stacked at roughly 151cm, she has tiny little cuts and scrapes on her arms from working with thorny plants and clawer dryads. Her eyes start out as a light green. Strange scarring on her chest, stomach, and back. Loves to experiment with new hair styles. Creates her own dyes and makeups with flowers and plants.​

Personality:
  • Nimble - Dahlia has remarkable kinesthetic intelligence. She seems to dance around danger with preternatural grace.
  • Very Neurotic - Dahlia feels constantly nervous about everything that has to get done. She will work extremely hard to attain this state of affairs, but her nerves can easily get the better of her.
  • Sickly - Dahlia has an awful immune system. She gets sick more often than usual, frequently with illnesses that nobody in the colony has been afflicted by.
Starting Item: A Gauranlen Pod
Bonds: None
Genes/Prosthetics: Pointed Ears, ???
Scars/Phobias: A strange webbing of scar tissue around her abdomen, chest, and back area.
  • Strength: 17
    • Melee
    • Construction -
    • Mining *
  • Dexterity: 15
    • Shooting
    • Crafting
  • Constitution: 18
  • Intelligence: 17
    • Medicine
    • Cooking *
    • Research
  • Wisdom: 17
    • Animals
    • Growing **
  • Charisma: 16
    • Social
    • Artistic

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Age: 23

Appearance:
Desi would best be described as a small, nimble thing, short in stature (5'1") and noticeably thin for her age. Her narrow shoulders and slim waist possess very little fat tissue or muscle mass, and indeed she looks light enough to be swept away by a faint breeze. While her frame might be easily overlooked, she makes up for it with her eye-catching appearance and fashionable attire. The tips of her vivid scarlet hair barely brush her shoulders, often tied into mini buns at the sides of her head with arching bangs that curtain around her heart-shaped face. Her sapphire eyes sparkle with hints of purple, like jewels inlaid into the ivory canvas of her skin.

An avid accessorizer, one will often find her wearing hair clips, bracelets, and garters, along with her signature pair of gradient, round-framed glasses that she sometimes wears. Perhaps her biggest identifying feature is the red flower tattoo inked into her left arm, a symbol of a clan long forgotten.

Background:
Born Princess Desinya Devintyre on the planet Citania, she was once a young royal among her matriarchal tribe, set to inherit the title of Queen of her people. She was trained in the blade from a young age, but unlike most warmaidens she came to prefer the speed and dexterity of daggers as opposed to a big, lumbering sword. Through her upbringing, she learned diplomacy and trade, developing a specialty for forging alliances and bartering for goods. At the age of sixteen, she was given her tattoo of the family crest, only to lose her arm a year later in a battle for her homeland. Her home was razed to the ground, and she alone rose from the ashes like a phoenix of war.

She wandered for a time, mourning the loss of her loved ones, a restless spirit unable to move on. Eventually, she took on a new name - "Desi" - and reinvented herself as a traveling merchant. Upon commissioning a perfect replica of her left arm, tattoo and all, she was fit to work and fight once again. After making something of a name for herself, she joins the crew of the the RSS Charon in hopes of expanding both her wares and customer base to other planets, yet all does not go as planned.

Personality:
  • Lively - A warm, vivacious persona that draws people in, she is the embodiment of optimism and cheer.
  • Deceptive - As a rogue, she has a penchant for telling lies and manipulating others for her benefit, though she tends to reserve this side of herself for those who deserve to be swindled.
  • Overconfident - Desi's overconfidence lends itself to arrogant, boastful one-liners at the best of times — and a tendency to recklessly endanger herself and others to prove a point at the worst.
Starting Item: A slender yet elegant hand pipe that she inherited from her mother. It has the unique ability to charm and pacify those who inhale its smoke (to a degree) something that comes in handy for her when negotiating and setting the mood, as she tends to use it to calm her own nerves as well.
Bonds: None
Genes/Prosthetics:
Her left arm is completely artificial, though it looks no different from a normal limb. She used to be right-handed, but now she is more skilled with her left hand thanks to its increased capabilities, such as enhanced strength and dexterity. However, strong electrical shocks can cause it to short-circuit, leaving her arm limp and useless until repaired.

To help her communicate and trade with all kinds of people and species, she also has a cochlear implant in her ear that translates other languages spoken in real time. It works for just about any tongue, but certain high frequencies can damage the device and her ear, causing it to bleed at times.
Scars/Phobias: Desinya has something of a fear of blood, able to handle it in small amounts, but growing weak and nauseated when exposed to an excess of the stuff.
  • Strength: 10
    • Melee
    • Construction
    • Mining -
  • Dexterity: 13
    • Shooting
    • Crafting *
  • Constitution: 14
  • Intelligence: 13
    • Medicine
    • Cooking *
    • Research
  • Wisdom: 9
    • Animals
    • Growing
  • Charisma: 16
    • Social **
    • Artistic
 
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