Post by High Overseer Gelide on Feb 17, 2019 14:43:13 GMT -5
NAME: Gelide
RACE: Arcosian
AGE: 34
GENDER: Female
HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 4'1"/72 lbs
APPEARANCE: A naturally frail and unimposing member of her race, Gelide cuts a fairly slender and overall unimpressive figure amongst the majority of her fellow galactic overlords. Her whole body is criss-crossed with scars that have faded to varying degrees from the abuse she's survived - her crystalline scalp, a striking royal blue, is covered with the most distinctive cuts, but they have thankfully faded to barely-noticeable scratches. Her back is riddled with misshapen patches from bruises and other wounds that have healed over crookedly. Two crisp black horns extend horizontally from just above her temple, carving a dark parallel line that seem to add to Gelide's presence. Her eyes are a dull, murky crimson, save the occasional flicker of life behind them. Her thin lips are often slightly parted, deep in contemplation.
She has slim fingers and thin limbs, making her look as if she is somewhat drowning amongst all her oversized clothing, as well as a little easy to push around. Gelide is rarely seen clothed in anything less than the most ornate of fabrics, layers and layers of decorative robes to denote her rank within her own life. The most noticeable of these is his heavy padded cloak with a fur collar, which had once been made of royal purple canvas but was now a dull, battered lavender color, with the fur uneven in some spots. It was nevertheless top-of-the-line combat gear when it came out years ago, and as such provides sufficient protection and warmth despite its age.
MOTIVATIONS: Gelide's desire, about all other things, is to re-establish galactic peace; by any means necessary. She wishes to restore her Stellar Stratocracy, but not out of any self-fulfilling desire. She has overcome her bloodline’s inherent thirst for power in her dedication to self-control. She instead only wishes that her son have the same opportunity as she had, but assuring that he does not suffer the same fate as she. By rebuilding the Stratocracy together, Gelide hopes to dedicate the rest of her empty life to building a galaxy worth protecting.
QUIRKS: Gelide is an incredibly shielded woman, sealing her mind off from the rest of the world. To those unfamiliar with her, she appears almost dopey and unresponsive. Her alienating tendencies make it difficult to interact with her, as she speaks almost exclusively through her personal advisor and son. Social gatherings and crowds do not appeal to her in the slightest, as so many people speaking at once greatly aggravate her ever-fragile concentration.
There are very few people she willingly opens up to, but she has developed an unhealthy dependence on them and has grown incredibly attached. There exists one such individual.
BONDS: The only true connection that matters to Gelide is the one she has with her son, Arctic. Though he was born the result of a loveless arranged marriage, he is the only family that Gelide truly has, and she cherishes him dearly. Even as her mind withered under the stresses of galactic management while she worked herself to insanity, she saw to it that Arctic was cared for. She had always prioritized his life over her own, desperately seeing to it that he would never suffer the same fate as hers, making sure that her son would be prepared for the galaxy that he would inherit - and only when he was ready for it. When she knew that the situation was becoming truly dire, she made sure that Arctic was safe in exile. In modern times, he is her personal advisor, and rarely does the withering Gelide make a decision without consulting him first. Never does she make an appearance without him at her side.
One cannot say the same about the late father of Gelide’s beloved son, the tyrannical Antarctic. Sworn to him in an arranged marriage, a young Gelide had despised him from the start, though she tried her hardest to provide as best she could; to view their relationship as one of respect and cooperation, yet Antarctic would have none of it. He saw only manipulation, as if his relationships were a bizarre game of chess. He saw only a method through which to bring about an heir, seeing a cold war where there could have been warm love. In the end, when Gelide poisoned the drink that would end his miserable life, she felt nothing. Her only regret is that she didn’t turn her back on galactic ambition after Antarctic’s death and simply live quietly in exile with her son.
One of Antarctic’s higher-ranking soldiers left a lasting impact on Gelide when she had first been sworn in as his bride. He was a peculiar fellow, and he had been assigned to Gelide as her bodyguard during her early years with Antarctic - his job involved less of protecting a young Gelide from threats and mostly stopped her from trying to escape. He hated Antarctic as much as his charge, and spent much of his time speaking earnestly with her. Bantu didn’t deny that things were dark, he didn’t promise that they will get better, and indeed didn’t deny they might get worse. But it taught her, inexorably, that she had to try. If she did, there would always be people in her life to lift her up. She was taught to do her best to keep herself from hurting those who help her, and help them too, when she can.
BACKSTORY: In a small, corner-pocket of the galaxy, an age-old family of lords and ladies struggled to remain relevant in an ever-changing political ocean. A young princess, bright and innocent, was the most recent heir to that line, and believed herself to be the heir of her kingdom. Things would change, of course, when she was sent away to an arranged marriage with a creature she had only ever heard of: Lord Antarctic, the most recent despot in a long line of greedy rulers and ineffectual governments was a sickly old man, weak in constitution but with a black heart. His brutality was matched only by his inability to relent, and he was feared throughout the galaxy.
In exchange for her life, her kingdom was promised absolution from Antarctic when the arrangements were through. It didn’t take long before the worlds that Gelide would have once inherited were absorbed into Antarctic’s empire, and the previous occupants enslaved. She never saw her family again.
It’s not known what took the Icer overlord’s life, in the end. It’s impossible to tell whether or not it was sickness or poison, but when he died, it was his young bride’s turn to indeed be hailed as ruler. She had been young, exceptionally so, ill-equipped to inherit a dying empire and raise her only child, knowing that she were doomed to fail if she continued down Antarctic’s path of brutality and fearmongering.
And so, her sudden ascension brought with it great change. She brought with her reforms. It was a slow process, as all changes are, but the moment that crown had been planted on that her head, Lord Antarctic’s empire changed completely. It was an empire no longer, now an oligarchy of planetary Overseers, with Gelide herself named High Overseer.
She had created the Stellar Stratocracy, almost completely unaided. Her exploits made her the posterchild for galactic reform for years, though few knew just how much Gelide’s work had cost her.
Her rule was deemed grand, and her judgment was deemed fair. All were given freedoms to act and to live and to think and to decide for themselves. Indeed, some would argue that they were given too much freedom. One by one, planets began to splinter out and away from the system, a lack of sturdy enforcement keeping them in check following their previous overlord’s passing.
It became clear, in response to her crumbling empire, that the High Overseer was going insane. Perhaps she had been for a very long time.
The cracks were small and shallow at first, but a lifetime of stressing over inter-planetary politics and prioritizing her son’s well-being over her own miserable existence had sown the soils of madness. Her behavior changed over the years, her new mindset warping her brain. Fearing revolt, Gelide sent Arctic far from their dying empire, to an ex-soldier the location of which she knew would be well-hidden, and whose influence she knew would be positive. Fearing what else she might lose, she changed.
She destroyed herself, building Gelide back up from nothing. She became something horrible, a beast decorated by horns with an animalistic visage. She became a monster to reflect the cruelties she had repressed for all her life, and her rule became brutal and unforgiving. No one had the right to challenge crazy High Overseer, or question her wrath. This form represented cruelty.
This was not good enough. She had to change, or else risk rebellion in response to her unrestrained cruelty. Again - she changed.
She became powerful - a creature less monstrous than the last, but with no less of an imposing figure. She became a towering idol of stress, one that fretted over every little thing and didn’t have the patience for any of it. The people’s freedoms were greater now, yet still controlled. This form represented strength.
Again - this was not good enough. She didn’t have the strength to govern over her ever-shrinking sphere of influence alone. Her followers had come to realize that their new ruler was as unstable as her ever-shifting forms, and one by one, planets began to splinter away from the stratocracy. Now with nothing to her name save for a small collective of loyal followers and her young son, she again changed.
She became smaller, now. Shorter than she was to begin. Her body was slim, and her mind was empty. She lives so deeply in her own mind that she can't be bothered to take full notice of the goings-on of the world around her. Hers is a total state of focus, a constant state of meditation and self-reflection. Complete and absolute inner peace. This form represented restraint.
And now, years later, Gelide has decided that peace must return, and that crumbling stratocracy be returned to greatness.
CALL TO ACTION: Gelide's only desire is to see galactic peace, and to return her once-proud stratocracy returned to its former glory. She will build a galaxy worth living in, together with her newly-returned son. Arctic returning to the Stratocracy after so much time away is the sole reason Gelide does anything more than breathe and eat - she forgot to do the latter often enough, and it would have been only a matter of time until she forgot the former. Arctic saved her life by returning to her, and she wishes only to return the favor.
STARTING BUILD
FIGHTING STYLE: BRUTAL
SKILL POINTS:
FIGHTING (Accuracy): 25
ENERGY CONTROL (Damage): 20(+5 from Brutal)(+5 from Arcosian racial perk) 30 total
REFLEXES (Defense): 5
RESILIENCE (HP): 0
TECHNIQUES:
RESERVES
IMPACT
EIGHT ARMS
AFTERIMAGE
AETHER BULLET (BARRAGE;PIERCING)
EQUIPMENT:
WEIGHTED CLOTHING
RACE: Arcosian
AGE: 34
GENDER: Female
HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 4'1"/72 lbs
APPEARANCE: A naturally frail and unimposing member of her race, Gelide cuts a fairly slender and overall unimpressive figure amongst the majority of her fellow galactic overlords. Her whole body is criss-crossed with scars that have faded to varying degrees from the abuse she's survived - her crystalline scalp, a striking royal blue, is covered with the most distinctive cuts, but they have thankfully faded to barely-noticeable scratches. Her back is riddled with misshapen patches from bruises and other wounds that have healed over crookedly. Two crisp black horns extend horizontally from just above her temple, carving a dark parallel line that seem to add to Gelide's presence. Her eyes are a dull, murky crimson, save the occasional flicker of life behind them. Her thin lips are often slightly parted, deep in contemplation.
She has slim fingers and thin limbs, making her look as if she is somewhat drowning amongst all her oversized clothing, as well as a little easy to push around. Gelide is rarely seen clothed in anything less than the most ornate of fabrics, layers and layers of decorative robes to denote her rank within her own life. The most noticeable of these is his heavy padded cloak with a fur collar, which had once been made of royal purple canvas but was now a dull, battered lavender color, with the fur uneven in some spots. It was nevertheless top-of-the-line combat gear when it came out years ago, and as such provides sufficient protection and warmth despite its age.
MOTIVATIONS: Gelide's desire, about all other things, is to re-establish galactic peace; by any means necessary. She wishes to restore her Stellar Stratocracy, but not out of any self-fulfilling desire. She has overcome her bloodline’s inherent thirst for power in her dedication to self-control. She instead only wishes that her son have the same opportunity as she had, but assuring that he does not suffer the same fate as she. By rebuilding the Stratocracy together, Gelide hopes to dedicate the rest of her empty life to building a galaxy worth protecting.
QUIRKS: Gelide is an incredibly shielded woman, sealing her mind off from the rest of the world. To those unfamiliar with her, she appears almost dopey and unresponsive. Her alienating tendencies make it difficult to interact with her, as she speaks almost exclusively through her personal advisor and son. Social gatherings and crowds do not appeal to her in the slightest, as so many people speaking at once greatly aggravate her ever-fragile concentration.
There are very few people she willingly opens up to, but she has developed an unhealthy dependence on them and has grown incredibly attached. There exists one such individual.
BONDS: The only true connection that matters to Gelide is the one she has with her son, Arctic. Though he was born the result of a loveless arranged marriage, he is the only family that Gelide truly has, and she cherishes him dearly. Even as her mind withered under the stresses of galactic management while she worked herself to insanity, she saw to it that Arctic was cared for. She had always prioritized his life over her own, desperately seeing to it that he would never suffer the same fate as hers, making sure that her son would be prepared for the galaxy that he would inherit - and only when he was ready for it. When she knew that the situation was becoming truly dire, she made sure that Arctic was safe in exile. In modern times, he is her personal advisor, and rarely does the withering Gelide make a decision without consulting him first. Never does she make an appearance without him at her side.
One cannot say the same about the late father of Gelide’s beloved son, the tyrannical Antarctic. Sworn to him in an arranged marriage, a young Gelide had despised him from the start, though she tried her hardest to provide as best she could; to view their relationship as one of respect and cooperation, yet Antarctic would have none of it. He saw only manipulation, as if his relationships were a bizarre game of chess. He saw only a method through which to bring about an heir, seeing a cold war where there could have been warm love. In the end, when Gelide poisoned the drink that would end his miserable life, she felt nothing. Her only regret is that she didn’t turn her back on galactic ambition after Antarctic’s death and simply live quietly in exile with her son.
One of Antarctic’s higher-ranking soldiers left a lasting impact on Gelide when she had first been sworn in as his bride. He was a peculiar fellow, and he had been assigned to Gelide as her bodyguard during her early years with Antarctic - his job involved less of protecting a young Gelide from threats and mostly stopped her from trying to escape. He hated Antarctic as much as his charge, and spent much of his time speaking earnestly with her. Bantu didn’t deny that things were dark, he didn’t promise that they will get better, and indeed didn’t deny they might get worse. But it taught her, inexorably, that she had to try. If she did, there would always be people in her life to lift her up. She was taught to do her best to keep herself from hurting those who help her, and help them too, when she can.
BACKSTORY: In a small, corner-pocket of the galaxy, an age-old family of lords and ladies struggled to remain relevant in an ever-changing political ocean. A young princess, bright and innocent, was the most recent heir to that line, and believed herself to be the heir of her kingdom. Things would change, of course, when she was sent away to an arranged marriage with a creature she had only ever heard of: Lord Antarctic, the most recent despot in a long line of greedy rulers and ineffectual governments was a sickly old man, weak in constitution but with a black heart. His brutality was matched only by his inability to relent, and he was feared throughout the galaxy.
In exchange for her life, her kingdom was promised absolution from Antarctic when the arrangements were through. It didn’t take long before the worlds that Gelide would have once inherited were absorbed into Antarctic’s empire, and the previous occupants enslaved. She never saw her family again.
It’s not known what took the Icer overlord’s life, in the end. It’s impossible to tell whether or not it was sickness or poison, but when he died, it was his young bride’s turn to indeed be hailed as ruler. She had been young, exceptionally so, ill-equipped to inherit a dying empire and raise her only child, knowing that she were doomed to fail if she continued down Antarctic’s path of brutality and fearmongering.
And so, her sudden ascension brought with it great change. She brought with her reforms. It was a slow process, as all changes are, but the moment that crown had been planted on that her head, Lord Antarctic’s empire changed completely. It was an empire no longer, now an oligarchy of planetary Overseers, with Gelide herself named High Overseer.
She had created the Stellar Stratocracy, almost completely unaided. Her exploits made her the posterchild for galactic reform for years, though few knew just how much Gelide’s work had cost her.
Her rule was deemed grand, and her judgment was deemed fair. All were given freedoms to act and to live and to think and to decide for themselves. Indeed, some would argue that they were given too much freedom. One by one, planets began to splinter out and away from the system, a lack of sturdy enforcement keeping them in check following their previous overlord’s passing.
It became clear, in response to her crumbling empire, that the High Overseer was going insane. Perhaps she had been for a very long time.
The cracks were small and shallow at first, but a lifetime of stressing over inter-planetary politics and prioritizing her son’s well-being over her own miserable existence had sown the soils of madness. Her behavior changed over the years, her new mindset warping her brain. Fearing revolt, Gelide sent Arctic far from their dying empire, to an ex-soldier the location of which she knew would be well-hidden, and whose influence she knew would be positive. Fearing what else she might lose, she changed.
She destroyed herself, building Gelide back up from nothing. She became something horrible, a beast decorated by horns with an animalistic visage. She became a monster to reflect the cruelties she had repressed for all her life, and her rule became brutal and unforgiving. No one had the right to challenge crazy High Overseer, or question her wrath. This form represented cruelty.
This was not good enough. She had to change, or else risk rebellion in response to her unrestrained cruelty. Again - she changed.
She became powerful - a creature less monstrous than the last, but with no less of an imposing figure. She became a towering idol of stress, one that fretted over every little thing and didn’t have the patience for any of it. The people’s freedoms were greater now, yet still controlled. This form represented strength.
Again - this was not good enough. She didn’t have the strength to govern over her ever-shrinking sphere of influence alone. Her followers had come to realize that their new ruler was as unstable as her ever-shifting forms, and one by one, planets began to splinter away from the stratocracy. Now with nothing to her name save for a small collective of loyal followers and her young son, she again changed.
She became smaller, now. Shorter than she was to begin. Her body was slim, and her mind was empty. She lives so deeply in her own mind that she can't be bothered to take full notice of the goings-on of the world around her. Hers is a total state of focus, a constant state of meditation and self-reflection. Complete and absolute inner peace. This form represented restraint.
And now, years later, Gelide has decided that peace must return, and that crumbling stratocracy be returned to greatness.
CALL TO ACTION: Gelide's only desire is to see galactic peace, and to return her once-proud stratocracy returned to its former glory. She will build a galaxy worth living in, together with her newly-returned son. Arctic returning to the Stratocracy after so much time away is the sole reason Gelide does anything more than breathe and eat - she forgot to do the latter often enough, and it would have been only a matter of time until she forgot the former. Arctic saved her life by returning to her, and she wishes only to return the favor.
STARTING BUILD
FIGHTING STYLE: BRUTAL
SKILL POINTS:
FIGHTING (Accuracy): 25
ENERGY CONTROL (Damage): 20(+5 from Brutal)(+5 from Arcosian racial perk) 30 total
REFLEXES (Defense): 5
RESILIENCE (HP): 0
TECHNIQUES:
RESERVES
IMPACT
EIGHT ARMS
AFTERIMAGE
AETHER BULLET (BARRAGE;PIERCING)
EQUIPMENT:
WEIGHTED CLOTHING
MISC.
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