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Esmme
See you later, Cole. "How do you...
4772.44
Esmme is offline
 
#1
Old 07-26-2010, 01:36 AM



Sometimes I wish I could see it again.
That's what everyone says. Those who saw it once long for times of peace to return, while the rest of us just struggle to keep going. Drifters, all of us. Our world was destroyed as we escaped, few of us actually making it past the explosions that destroyed Earth.
From this point on, we have a choice: allow ourselves to be hunted by the Alkari, studied in "peace" by the Vilyan's, or fight back and gain a new home.

While Earth had been destroyed a few generations ago, there are few planets still suitable for human life. The Vilyan's planet, which is conveniently a word too difficult for our tongue to speak, is made up of floating bits of rock and machinery. The Alkari . . . are a mystery. We don't know where they come from, what they are, or where they go - we only know that once they have a target, they will hound you to the ends of the universe to kill you. Human kind is scraping by, our numbers dwindling as we find our old machinery and ragged ships falling apart.

- I request that you stay human . . . and if I wish, I will have you become an alien later on in the story. I will post only a sheet for the humans, and will work on getting the Vilyan's and Alkari up later.

- PM me if you wish to join! ;)



Human


All humans are drifters, treated like scum by the rest of the life in the universe. We are a dying breed, something that everyone thinks they would do better without. Drifter colonies live together in groups of broken ships, clustered together and trading whatever they have left to survive.
No one in their right mind wants to live in these colonies . . . there is too much crime and death, fear and hopelessness . . . and it's accompanied by a sickness that is beginning to kill us all off.
Somewhat tired and weary in appearance, we really have no limitations to our looks . . . as long as we're human.


Puppeteer:
Name:
Age:
Occupation (if you have one):
Biography:
Appearance:
Notes and posting color:


Vilyan

A Vilyan is an individual of knowledge. While they study nearly everything known (and unknown) to man, the tall, slender beings aren't as physical as they could be. Weak when it comes to fighting, they solve everything with advanced machinery and their ability to control the element of air. If logic cannot solve the problem, a Vilyan cannot find an alternate route.
Emotionless, they all have a specific branch of study - no family, no friends, and raised by a "mother."

Being a good foot taller than any human, a Vilyan can best be described as thin and "willowy." With pointed ears and strange designs etched into their skin, they are readily identified as the race that is addicted to knowledge. A Vilyan's skin, eyes, and hair can be nearly any color . . . and usually is something that a human would consider strange.



Alkari

Not much is known about this race, though it is always a nightmare when they arrive. Usually seen as a sort of colored mist, more like a wraith, an Alkari is known to possess individuals in order to blend in to society.
Unfeeling, uncaring, and merciless, an Alkari will do whatever it must to feed - off of another beings energy.
Living off in space with their own society, they cannot be found . . . and are feared by nearly every race imaginable.



((Note: This is merely a blip from what I have created, so it has no copyright . . . but I would like to keep it as my own "creation." Both my friend and myself spent many hours creating the races, some of which are not even mentioned here in this thread. :sweat:))

Accepted Profiles

Humans

Quote:
Puppeteer: Esmme
Name: Dej
Age: 20
Occupation: A mechanic for the drifter colony.
Biography: Having never seen earth, Dej was raised with a drifter colony. He's never had an encounter with any foreign life form, but he very much knows he's on the bottom of the food chain - even amongst his peers. Growing up, he didn't cause trouble, which got him into the "right" groups . . . and away from the boys his age.
Eager for a change, eager to find a way off of the drifter ship, Dej is willing to go through great lengths to find a new home for his people.
Appearance: Dej
Notes and posting color: Navy.


Puppeteer: Esmme
Name: Dominic
Age: 20
Occupation: Mercenary and Drifter Hit-man.
Biography: Dominic's parents were Drifters, just like everyone else in the ship. His mother was killed by a desperate Drifter, and when his father gave his life to save Dominic himself. Blaming himself for their deaths, he had dedicated his life to find the killers, thus selling his services as a gun for hire.
Appearance: Dominic
Notes and posting color: Dark Red. Hates just about everyone, and everything . . . including himself. Parents died when he was 8.


Puppeteer:Talitha001
Name: Amber Tyrana
Age: 16
Occupation: Thief and assassin.
Biography: Orphaned at ten Amber taught herself to survive without help. She is very good at sneaking which is why she takes whatever hits she can get.
Appearance:Amber
Notes and posting color: purple ^.^
Quote:
Originally Posted by Isaac Levis
Puppeteer: Isaac Levis
Name: Zeal
Age: 22
Occupation: Piolet
Biography: His father being a piolet taught Zeal how to piolet transport crafts. Since Zeal became old enough to fly on his own he has been taking part in jobs that had a little more risk involved than just transporting. Zeal's mother is a mechanic, even though he chose to focus on pioleting almost exclusivly he could not help but learn some tid bits here and there. At twenty he had enough money to move out of the 'house' and get his own place.
Appearance: At a young age he took to highlighting his normally dark onyx black hair with a dark ruby red. This practice stuck, keeping his hair short and dyed. Normally he wears darker colored clothing and a mechanics belt. Zeal is caucasian and in desperate need of a tan; he weighs approximantly one hundread and fifty five pounds and stands just under six feet. His eyes often fade in and out of different colors as the day goes on, from a sea green to a color more influanced by blues.
Notes and posting color: Silver

Last edited by Esmme; 11-07-2010 at 12:23 AM..

Esmme
See you later, Cole. "How do you...
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Esmme is offline
 
#2
Old 10-30-2010, 03:38 AM

-Reserved for Alkari and other alien races-

Last edited by Esmme; 11-07-2010 at 12:25 AM..

Esmme
See you later, Cole. "How do you...
4772.44
Esmme is offline
 
#3
Old 11-07-2010, 12:25 AM

((Posting as allowed, if you've joined up! The RP is now open for writing! I will be posting soon, not to worry. I'm just not sure where to start at this moment of time. . . .))

Isaac Levis
⊙ω⊙
2071.92
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#4
Old 11-09-2010, 04:11 PM

Tap, tap, tap. Click, click. Zeal prepared the small transport for docking; double checking the dashboard everything looked normal except for a red flashing light above the word 'accel 2'. This did not seem to surprise him and Zeal continued to prepare the ship as normal.

Zeal adjusted the tuner in order to communicate with home, "Zeal here, bringing in the Star Pioneer. Asking permission to dock."

"Permission granted, welcome back. Use dock twenty seven.", an unknown male voice crackled through the communicator.

After imputing the instructions into the transport Zeal leaned back in the chair and took in the sight of home. The hulking ship that he slowly drew closer was capable of holding up to two hundred thousand, even in its degraded state. Though Zeal knew it held far less than that, it was probably closer to housing a fourth of its capacity.

Zeal overrode the auto pilot and steered around some floating debris that threatened to smash into his transport. Letting go of the controls the ship once again put them back on track towards the docking bay. Twenty or so minutes later the craft was successfully docked.

Releasing the door locks resulted in a hissing sound before the door unlocking and opening after an encouraging push. Zeal was greeted by his employer, a short and stout bald man with a temper that flared up often.

Zeal thought it was best to just start with an explanation, "Damn secondary accelerator broke again, I had to do a patch job."

"Again! What do I pay those mechanics for!", the shorter man shouted, his face turning slightly red to reflect his anger, "I guess I needa get another one down here. Hey Zeal why don't you take a crack at fixing it?"

"You know I don't have the experience to guarantee my work, just call me again when you need a transporter."

The short man just went on muttering while Zeal exited the dock, quickly checking his funds at a personal terminal before taking a turn towards his apartment. Zeal changed out of his work clothes and hung up his tool belt. Now wearing a more casual outfit consisting of a dark navy blue jacket and jeans to match with a dark red shirt. Before leaving he downs a beer while checking his pager for possible work, there is none.

Esmme
See you later, Cole. "How do you...
4772.44
Esmme is offline
 
#5
Old 11-12-2010, 03:45 AM

Tossing the rusty part aside, Dej sighed and wearily raked a hand through his hair. Blast this work! As a mechanic for the colony, he'd been serving those who offered some sort of payment. Often that pay came in means of food or other necessities, but not always. At this point, he was working for a place to sleep for the next month.
His brown eyes scanned over the lump of rusty engine bits. The man that asked him to fix it was just as poor as he was . . . and the engine had been around for longer than Dej himself had. Wiping a smear of black oil off of his cheek (and smearing it further), the mechanic took a deep breath and stood, stretching his arms as best he could. There was no getting rid of the soreness that came from sitting in the same position for so many hours.

Everywhere the sound of young and old as they spoke, played, coughed, and lived echoed dimly. The large station was like a group of old ships and other odd hut-like homes. Dej didn't have a home - he just took residence wherever he could, for as long as he could. Luckily his skills were easily used. He fixed what he could for whoever could pay - and he enjoyed it, when he actually had time to breathe.
"Ye get yer work done, boy?" The voice came from a rather heavy man who was dirtier than the scum under someone's shoe. It was Dej's employer, Bruce. "Ye know ye can't leave till ye do."
Dej nodded, giving Bruce a tired smile as he kept walking. If he didn't leave now, there would be no end to his list of chores. Fix the ship, oil the hinges that were in the house, and don't forget the water pipes near the back! No matter how many times Dej mentioned he wasn't an all-purpose tool, Bruce kept trying to get him to do everything. Mechanic. Not a plumber, housekeeper, or custodian . . . though it often felt like it.

As he headed through the station, Dej avoided the people that usually caused him trouble - the roving gangs were always a problem. Of course, no matter how hard he tried, he always ended up running into someone. This time it was the group that regularly caused him grief - one of the worse gangs in the entire colony.
"Hey there, handy man."
Dej frowned down at the ground, speeding his pace. Of course, the group was everywhere - and, conveniently, there were no other people. Only the gang. And that meant trouble - more than just a bit of it.
"Let's see what you've made today, eh?"
The biggest man, a brute by all standards, stepped forward and snagged Dej's arm, spinning him around just in time to catch a blow to the side of the head. The mechanic was knocked off of his feet, and he gave the attackers a glare that would have killed even the worst of men. Unfortunately, looks couldn't kill. It only made the gang mad . . . and that meant a more brutal beating.

 


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