Redux of the Polygems (ROLL20.NET ACCOUNT RECOMMENDED)

[napsii]

I'm not dead yet, though I'm ashamed to admit my recent lethargy is killing my imagination. I also happen to be at a dearth for sci-fi character concepts. So if the primary ideas I'm working out with Zender right now don't fly, then I probably won't join for everybody's sake.

Edit: The concept is good to go. Now I just have to write my bio. Which will take forever. -.-

[daxtinator396]

-Name: Dax Sierra
-Race: Nekovian
-Age: 261 (29)
-Appearance: Sandy colored fur with lighter spots mixed in and one dark spot over his right eye which is a deep green as is his left. Shortish standing at about 5'5 and weighing about 110 pounds mostly muscle.
-Specialization:Phantom
--Primary Weapon: Needle Gun
--Secondary Weapon: Shot Mag
--Melee Weapon: Heat Dagger
-Nano-Tech: Whisperwind
Practically a requirement for stealth-oriented missions, this ability provides the user with swift, silent reflexes on par with that of a true ninja. This allows for a very efficient sneak attack on the unwary, doubling the accuracy roll's value, and dealing double damage if it connects. Needless to say, any target this does NOT hit would have to know you're there already.
Condition: Target must be unaware of your presence.
Cost: 30 EN.

<Stats> (30 points to distribute, except for HP and EN. Those values are defined below. For the other 6 stats, each one starts with 1 point in it, which you distribute the 30 points on top of.)
-HP: 67
-EN: 100
-Might: 6
-Vision: 10 (+3)
-Stamina: 7
-Technology: 4
-Intelligence: 7
-Mobility: 8 (+4)
<Bio>
Dax lost his family at a young age and lived on his own taking to the streets and tunnels of a dome on an airless moon. There he learned to stay hidden and use his envoriment to his advantage in the Understreets where the gangs ruled and if you weren't with them you were against them. He would use the small spaces of the vents and sewers to get around silently without being seen and then one day on one of his forays to the surface he stole away on aPlatinum Stilleto ship. That was 15 years ago and no one had the heart o kick him off so they trained him using his natural skills and he became an excellent scout and his reputation quickly spread and thus he became a permanent addition to the team.
(Shitty bio is Shitty.)

[Zeus Kabob]

I'll have my character ready in a couple days! :O

[Reaver]

*prays that no one makes his mechanic class obsolete* also we need some tacos to go along with our sausages, otherwise this is gonna become gears of war

[daxtinator396]

I tried to get Miki to join but she wouldn't xD looks like Napsii is still writing... Or something. And Zues has a character on the way :3

[napsii]

I'm aiming to have my bio ready by tomorrow or Wednesday, for anyone wondering.

[daxtinator396]

Sweet!

[napsii]

Okay.

[puts on thinking cap, thinking shorts, thinking thigh-highs]

I'll definitely aim to stop wasting everyone's time and have something horrible complete by the end of this evening.

[Reaver]

XD finally my curiousness will be sated this evening! YES!

[napsii]

Well, prepare to be disappointed.

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

As of this post, I've gotten as far as setting up my stats. Not a single word of my character's bio yet. c:

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

I bet you were expecting me to post a character sheet. c:

[Zender_Solarheart]

Hey Naps, this is for you:

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

[napsii]

I'll have to finish it tomorrow. I was bowled over by a spell of fatigue even though there's conceivably only a few paragraphs left and I generally know what I want to write. Watch this space.

[Argonaut]

Just made the worst backstory I've ever written, as well as made a few changes I think Reaver will like.

[Reaver]

XD awesome backstory! Also I like chicks ^^

[Zender_Solarheart]

Oh wow, Argo. Didn't expect a gender-bend on your CS, much less such a crazy likeness to Polygems NPC mainstay Becky "Nevvy" Nevada. If I didn't know better, I'd be thinking you were planning to actually play as her. Not that there's anything wrong with that, mind you; if anything, it adds more potential for comedic scenarios, among other things.

And now, to re-edit Argo's character token in Roll20...*sigh*...

[Reaver]

Nevvy..... The pic also reminds me of Revy. I fuckin love Revy and Black Lagoon!

[daxtinator396]

Revy is the baddest bitch in the world and hot as hell *drool*

[napsii]

My sincerest apologies, brother. I was so eager to see you I couldn't concentrate on preparations for the bash.

For clarification's sake, my character's rank is Private or something equivalent.

---

Name: Fate
-Age: 18

-Race: New Project

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

Humanity was, after all, a meaningless word for an unclear qualification. Although Fate has been acquainted with countless among the member species of the Republic of Trans-Galactic Systems, she still stakes claim to her humanity and all of its shortcomings. All intelligent things are different from one another, but even among the sameness of her own species, this young woman stands out – but perhaps that is typical of every person recruited into the Platinum Stilettos. The life she knows is a patchwork of memories and emerging revelations, and though she shares what most would demand of a human, she has always struggled to connect herself to her scattered memories of “New Project” - words that recur in her dreams and memories but appear to mean nothing.

Age Formula: N/A (as with Humans)
Race HP Mod: 5
Stat Bonuses: +2 Intelligence/+1 Vision

Special Ability: ???

-Appearance:

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

-Specialization: Trooper

--Primary Weapon: Photon Rifle
--Secondary Weapon: Shot-Mag
--Melee Weapon: EM Katana

-Nano-Tech: N/A

<Stats>

-HP: 59
-EN: 100
-Might: 2
-Vision: 9
-Stamina: 4
-Technology: 3
-Intelligence: 15
-Mobility: 8

<Bio>

Spoiler (click to show/hide):

There are no sinners in this sea of stars.
It has always been so that Man can only dream of the stars. Not content with their countless generations consumed spilling blood and tears for the sake of meaningless soil, criminals, hopefuls and transgressors of countless laws and beliefs sought refuge in the vastness of space where guilt and regret had no meaning. Although the cleverest animals – who went by many names and came from many places – had sought to apply the insecurities of their birth to the cosmos above, a few of the souls among both Men and who they chose to be their allies and enemies knew that the universe was too vast to hold in the fist of any conqueror and too bound to its own logic to bend to the ideas and wisdom of any animal, no matter their greatness.

Confident in this thought (or just desperate for it to be true) these souls fled from their sins and their crimes, into the stars where no animal's talons could tear in to the transgressions of their birthplace. It was said that for every wrong in the galaxy and the galaxies beyond it, there was always a place where it was right, and even as the talons of the Republic of Trans-Galactic Systems endured and broadened over the centuries since Man joined his fellow learned animals, the universe remained empty of sin. The individual knew little, and the collective they formed staked claim to all but held little, and hence both were nothing at all; every animal could find his place in the stars, no matter the depth of the prison designed to restrain their dreams of the stars.

And then there were those individuals who wished the stars would dream of them. Few people know such souls better than Fate, as she is one of their progeny.

She did not know where in the universe to call her birthplace, and as she matured the capacity to think on such things, she realized she did not care; the grandeur of the cosmos suppressed the angst of not knowing one's origins, and the thrumming metals and buzzing lights of the vast, wandering vessel she called her first home reassured her that the universe around her was more than just ideas and unseen forces, even in those pockets of Republic space where the aftershocks of change from the faraway seats of power weren't encountered for months or even years. Politics and war, to them, were a theory, and Fate valued those people: some old – and one as ancient as humanity's ascent into the stars – and others in between. But mostly her fellow young. Each of them had adopted her as one of their own when she was scurried away by chance from a starship listing aimlessly around a now-dead star.

Entombed within a cryopod was that girl, who was a human, but who did not understand the meaning of the word, and who could speak but who did not know her own name. On the ship, there was no manifest and no record of its voyage, but the cradle of its only passenger was marked with a word:

FATE

She came to know herself as a troubled young woman, as did those around her, but she knew she was not truly an orphan; as an enthusiast of philosophy many times her senior but also a dreamer, she was confident she had witnessed some truths both in her sleep and her waking day. In the dark, she battled foggy memories of oppressive whiteness that whirled around her like a snowstorm, tantalizing her with silhouettes of Men who drew near and then slipped away, and of an ocean-eyed woman dressed in red, and at day she duelled with questions for which none of her peers could conceive an answer as she eyed the passing stars, which for her, never ceased to twinkle. As with most people in the universe, she was not particularly happy or particularly sad, either.

The institution charged with her care synthesized powerful drugs to tame her frequent migraines, anxiety, insomnia or nightmares, and while they subdued her appreciation of the lights and the stars, they affirmed a chance to interact with the fellow children who normally ignored or avoided her.

She was not deformed and she was not hateful, but Fate, as she'd learned to call herself, always smiled.

Even in the monotonous, drifting vessel of colonists where luck and not schedule determined intrigue, she realized that there was always something to be found which made one smile, even through the headaches, the panic attacks and the way the world around her became violent when she screamed. Fate treated herself to many hours reading the works of the Republic's great authors, even the ones recorded only in the more difficult dialects of the Dracolites and Neo-Elves which challenged her apparent capacity for language, and amused herself by drawing charts of the surrounding stars when the ship paused in orbit, only to throw them away when the vessel moved on and the maps became meaningless.

And for the longest time it was okay for her to be by herself, even during the few opportunities she had to visit the colonies or the thriving homeworlds. She had few obligations, few wants, little power and no sins.

There was a day she did not smile.

Fate does not remember – or rather, chooses not to remember – that day, when, bleeding and in tears, she watched the first and only world she'd known descend into the stars in flames. The sound of lightning, the glare of lights and the groan of metal suppressed what sense there was to be made of those memories. Over and over again, she has relived the experience in her sleep, and every time there were no other people, but rather just herself, drifting through a hellish world that floated around her impossibly, inviting her to touch the stars and watch them burst into flames or scatter into light in her grasp. And every time, the cool snowstorm came to wash away the agony, erasing all traces of the people and the world she'd come to know and encasing her in ice.

When she first awoke from that dream, she was in a different place, and in front of her was a stranger. She was frigid and bloodied, but that stranger gave her warmth and health. Once again, she was surrounded by the thrum of metal and the glimmer of stars, but slowly, under the watch of that stranger and his companions, she came to realize it was not the same. These strangers were kindhearted, but in their looks there was steel, and they carried themselves as warriors and not wanderers. They were a military unit, she learned. They called themselves the Platinum Stilettos, and few in this universe had not heard of them.

Fate was one such person, but it did not matter. In every galaxy and every society, there are always tales of the knights who prowl the stars to uphold their justice; humans had enjoyed such legends since their formative years, while the Neo-Elves have enjoyed tales of vagrant heroes since they first took to the heavens. The Platinum Stilettos were just that, Fate thought: knights who served their promised goals, and moved the stars themselves not through their blades, but by becoming immortal in the intergalactic consciousness. They were what all people of the stars wanted to be: strong and self-fulfilling, resourced to serve their own mandate and willing to do so as they travelled the cosmos.

It was one night, lying in the bed given to her, that Fate decided that was what she wanted to be, too.

For a time, she was only a civilian – a liability on board a military ship, and destined for some sterile area of the galaxy where her story could be untangled. But she had been recovered drifting in one of the most dangerous regions of space, sealed in an icy, mineral-encrusted cryopod doomed for the fiery heart of some nearby star, and there was no pulling back from a mission to deliver her to the waiting hands of the Republic. So she watched from the side lines, overawed by the many machines and tools designed for murder, and the countless aisles of instruments designed to heal and entertain which underpinned them all. For all of their devotion to war, the Stilettos had donated just as much of their time to simply being people.

Though, it was after they had returned from their mission – drenched in blood, grime and sweat – and swerved around their vessel to turn for home that Fate truly came to know who they were.

As she stared at the passing stars one night, a great fire engulfed their ship, and the loud roar of energy against metal threw her to the ground. Desperate, she ran to seek the help of the strangers who had taken her in, only to be blinded by an oppressive light. When she awoke, creatures in menacing armour stood above her, surrounded by sparks and flames, and she felt it was her time to die. She closed her eyes, awaiting the inevitable, and screamed--

Afterwards, she dreamt for a long time of the snow, the woman in red and the glow of stars. When she awoke next, she was not in the grey domain of death, or in the care of the Republic, but rather in the arms of the Stilettos. Above her once more was the first of the strangers. To her, he whispered something, and to him, she whispered something back.

It was then she knew that her new and only home in this universe was with the Platinum Stilettos.

--

That was several years ago, when Fate was always anxious for time to grind onwards. Though she was not a soldier or an expert of any sorts, in the company of Platinum Stilettos, she never ran out of ways to donate her time; they were, after all, more than just hands to bear guns. The ship she had taken a liking to had the comforts of any home, and after a time, she became used to seeing them off as they descended into the atmosphere of awaiting planets to fight for their lives, or hide when the ship was rocked with gunfire. When the time came for her to officially seek admittance into the fighting forces of the Republic, she leapt at the opportunity, hoping that she could finally join her companions in the field – even if it could kill her.

The months spent away at a training station were among the loneliest in her recent life, but Fate never missed a beat trying to apply what she had gleaned to the many tests before her in the hopes of continuing the life she had begun to conceive for herself. It was only when she graduated as a naval recruit that she was told no amount of years as a companion of the Stilettos qualified her to join them as a soldier: she was not an exceptionally good shot, not particularly strong, fast or tough, and the skills she had demonstrated were no more than average. It would have seemed she sealed her destiny as an average recruit into the rank-and-file of the military.

Faced with the final commitment to sign her contract for several years of service in some different part of the galaxy, she hesitated.

It was shortly after that a call came in from somewhere up above. Her history with the Stilettos was not lost on someone in the brass, it seemed, and within moments, Fate was signing away a promise to join the elite ranks of the Platinum Stilettos as an official new recruit. At that time, she smiled endlessly, hardly thinking of the uncertainty and strangeness of her life and circumstances which would later come to stalk her.

But that time has yet to come.

Fate has spent the last week furiously preparing her new life in the company of the Stilettos, and much more recently, trying to contend with the announcement of her first mission – a heart-quickening trip to Belle Magnis to confront a suspected rebel assault.

And still, it was not the concern of bloodshed or violence that concerned her. It was her dreams.

While once she dreamt of the stars, she now only sees the heavens aflame – and falling.

[Zender_Solarheart]

Hehe, nice DMC3 reference there, Naps. I've been playing back through that game, coincidentally.

I also see your penchant for long-as-hell bios hasn't diminished since the last time I saw one of yours, but hey, nothing wrong with being talkative. Time to make Fate her token in Roll20, and all that jazz.

And with that, we should be ready to start by as early as tomorrow. I'll need some time to think up an intro and such, obviously, but once all that's done, we should be good to go.

[napsii]

Poorly written character backstory status:

☐ Long-as-heaven
☐ Long-as-hell
☑ Hell or Hell

Also, can I make a stupid (actually very smart) little furry creature that is the team's shared pet. c: