Post by glume on Nov 22, 2010 11:12:45 GMT -5
| Name: Arhom Roux (pronounced are-OM row) Sex: Male Age: 42 Race: Tiartzard | |
Appearance: Tall and well-muscled, this Tiartzard looks like he has done his fair share of hard work. His slick, yellowing flesh is modeled with rough patches, scars and bumps. One of the more notable scars is a long jagged gash along his dorsal fin. His glossy orange eyes jut out from under a heavy brow, making him look slightly more angry than he actually is. His gait is slightly crooked, yet manages to carry himself with a subdued pride. When on the job, Arhom is clad in a worn navy-camo-print armored bodysuit with all manner of pouches and pockets sewn on, almost as an afterthought. Worn around his head is a large helmet resembling a gas mask, the most notable differences being one large transparent faceplate, and the placement of the filters on either side rather than the front. Around his torso is a multi-strapped silvery harness, leading around to a group of small tanks strapped to his back. The tanks themselves have no tubes to speak of, just a simple valve that seems to operate the whole lot at once. His peculiar shoes seem to have been molded specifically to fit around and move with his webbed toes. When at rest, he tries to keep his outfit on the simple side. Loose, unbuttoned shirts, usually in tropical or celestial prints, and cut-off trousers make up the bulk of his wardrobe. He has been known to show up at formal occasions in similar outfits, accompanied by some sort of neck-tie or fancy hat. |  |
Personality: Nebula Rustlers are a notoriously crusty lot. Arhom is no acception. He has developed quite the coarse exterior as a result of his criminal profession. He never did think of himself as a traditional bad-guy, though. In his mind, he was more of an anti-hero. But even someone without evil intentions needed to be cautious. Reasons had no weight when it came to law-enforcement, it was the act that counted. Thus, he opted to not make too many friends early on in his career. Age has softened him more than he'd like to admit, as have his regular vacations to the Dechin Swamps. History: Raised on a space station orbiting Olaka, Arhom's teen years were an exercise in discipline. It was a drastic change from the cosy childhood he had experienced on the planets surface. Pre-chosen from the knot of Tiartzards he was raised in, based on his size and apparent fortitude, he was shipped off to the station as soon as he got his land legs. Sadly, he was only judged on his aptitude while in the water, his birth-defect had not been foreseen. As he matured, a rather inexplicable limp resigned him to the more unsavory jobs. It didn't really seem to impair his work, but the higher-ups were certain it would prove to make him slow and clumsy. He soon found himself trying to make friends with the various Kylians that would stop at the station. Most of the visitors were commercial space-crews or independent ship owners that stopped in for fuel, repairs, and refreshments. Ahrom's job repairing ships earned him a decent reputation, so most were happy to share their adventuring tales with him as a tip for his remarkable work. Arhom managed to get in good with one particular group who usually kept their business to themselves. They admired his technical skill, and his zest for doing an honest days work even when the conditions were undesirable. When they offered him a job elsewhere, he gladly accepted before knowing all the terms. After all, they were offering on-the-job training, a chance to explore the galaxy, and from what he saw of them, they seemed to look out for each other like a brotherhood. They called themselves Nebula Rustlers. It was exactly what it sounded like. Nebula's were basically space's dumping ground. Stray gasses, debris, and cosmic dust lumped together in a surprisingly aesthetically-pleasing matter. Pretty though they were, they were still mostly junk. They did have a few uniquely interesting features, though. Sometimes the stray gasses and junk would clump together even further, creating stars, sometimes even planets and eventually brand new star-systems. The Nebula Rustlers thought this was all well and good to promote, but who's to say they couldn't go collect some of the rarer gasses and junk that made its way into the glowing mass while it happened? Its not like the stars would ever form in their lifetimes, anyways. Technically someone DID say they couldn't do it. It was a highly illegal activity. Firstly, because most of the larger Nebula's were in owned sectors of the galaxy, technically making them thieves, and secondly because nebulae were generally unstable and dangerous regions. Ofcourse, the Rustlers believed themselves to be more than experienced enough to handle any dangerous situation. The larger ship his crew of seven was stationed in was slow and cumbersome, as far as ships went, but it had all the luxuries and necessities one could want in their downtime. There were smaller rovers that would be dispersed upon arrival to an appropriate location. Big enough for two passengers, a gas tank, plus all their equipment, the ships were much easier to maneuver into tight corners. That was lucky, too, as space debris was a lot larger than Arhom had expected... but then again, so was space. Arhoms first job was tag-along repairman. His various partners were in charge of flying, operating, and collecting, leaving him with little to do until something happened to go wrong.. It wasn't long before he was talking his way into sharing more of the work, and his co-workers were more than happy to oblige, even if it meant showing him how things were done. He even managed to convince the captain of the operation to let him do solo jobs as his skill grew. They had the extra rovers, and sense he could do both jobs it naturally had to be more efficient. His bold nature, and cunning new ideas got him promoted to captain his own ship and crew, and once held the record for largest Sector I haul for five consecutive shifts. It wasn't all a smooth trip, though. There were a few accidents along the way, including a minor explosion and a few close calls with local authorities. Due to age, and perhaps a bit of overconfidence in his crews ability to harvest efficiently, Arhom decided to have a rather loose working schedule. Everyone was permitted to go their separate ways during their off-time, as long as they managed to keep regular contact to find out when the next haul would be. During his break, Arhom prefers to visit the swamps of Drio, spending his time either relaxing, socializing or participating in local competitions. Drio was the most desirable local, in his opinion, not only due to its lush, wild environment, but also because it wasn't likely anyone he knew would go there. He could be the more carefree version of himself without worrying about losing respect. Recently, on the early stretch of one such break, he witnessed a tourist showing off a Chrono Ring. He had heard of them before, and knew a bit about their origin, but he hadn't realized the scope of their abilities until he witnessed it for himself. Naturally, he set off to claim one for himself. |
