Post by Arctic on Feb 17, 2019 14:54:06 GMT -5
RACE: Frieza Clan
HEIGHT/WEIGHT: 5’ 4”/115 lbs
Having the typical traits natural to his race, Arctic looks a bit akin to what a small child might imagine monsters would look like, but perhaps with a few differences too major to ignore. His skin is mostly a pale, purplish shade of blue, though the crest of his brow and area about the center of his chest is a stark bone-white. The crystalline portions of his body, meanwhile, are of a much deeper, dignified blue. Though his stature is fairly unimposing, the two great horns on his head help to compensate somewhat, rising high before curving inwards, like inverted ram’s horns. He has the typical solid red eyes, a strong jawline, high cheekbones, and a long, thin nose. His build is more athletic than it is muscular, but is rounded out well enough. He typically sports what amounts to simple formal wear to his culture rather than a gi or armor—though, as according to the wishes of his old tutor, it near always tends to be subtly weighted.
Arctic is, in short, rather conflicted about what he wants to do with himself in the grand scheme of things. As the sole inheritor of the (admittedly completely impoverished) Stellar Stratocracy, it’s expected of him that he’ll one day take on the mantle of High Overseer from his mother Gelide, a role to play that he has been fully aware of ever since he was a young child. He isn’t averse to this idea—such an opportunity doesn’t occur for any but a handful in the endless sea of the galaxy—but nonetheless has a few select reservations. Most majorly, though he never quite saw the full scope of it when he was younger, he has seen the toll leading has taken on Gelide, leaving her nearly a husk of her former self, and is appalled at the thought of sharing that fate… and also, though he buries it deep within, a certain instinct perhaps tied to his people tells him to abandon the dead, would-be empire and attempt to found his own. Nonetheless, he tries to swallow both of these doubts, instead opting to pour himself into the restoration of the faction that raised him, and aiding his addled parent as chief advisor. His intent in this is less one of ambition and more out of a desire to see things made right again; essentially, he’s acting out of a feeling of duty and responsibility.
This latter item is especially important. Though he was still a child when he was sent away, he feels his absence greatly hastened the rate at which the Stratocracy fell to pieces, and that had he been there, he somehow might have helped avert its decay, and prevent his mother from retreating deeper within her mental shell as well. Despite this not being a very rational chain of thought, it bothers him quite deeply all the same, and in hopes of both making that feeling abate and righting what he sees as a past wrong, he remains with Gelide through thick and thin. Whether he’ll remain happy with this choice through time, however, remains to be seen. Outside of this, the core lessons imparted to him in his youth by his parents and tutors alike still govern his actions even now: chaos is the natural state of the universe, people must strive to create order, and only through order can people live in peace and luxury—if sacrifices must be made to create it, then so be it. Given his heritage, he sees it as his lot in life to be in the business of making order, which his current position fulfills quite neatly.
A bit of an oddity, Arctic’s emotions can dip between quite wide ranges in a short span of time. Though this in of itself isn’t exactly atypical, even for his own kind, what is less so is how he prefers to manage them. He is able to remain stoic no matter the inner turmoil, such a thing being seen as a vital trait of leaders among his people, but when among those he trusts and without risk of being overheard, he tends to simply let out whatever is on his mind all at once, in total honesty and at face value. Though this can be quite the pain to deal with, with potentially complicated or troublesome subjects seemingly coming up out of nowhere, it at least means that he can be expected to be quite open and truthful with his allies. Despite not being particularly interested in the decorum he’s trained in, meanwhile, he’s nonetheless rather introverted by nature, and can remain rather cumbersomely cordial in situations where it’s completely unnecessary—which, with any luck, is something he’ll grow out of with experience.
Arctic’s experience and interest in martial arts has much less to do with desires to fight and grow stronger than it does with just possessing the legion of benefits that an understanding of Ki provides; physical health, mental wellbeing, and spiritual peace alike remaining perpetually in excellent condition is something he sees quite a lot of worth in, with the accompanying capability of self-defense being a superb capstone. It was with these in mind that he was first trained, and he’s maintained similarly passive values regarding the subject ever since. Nonetheless, when in the heat of the moment, he has no qualms with risking life and limb in true battle, his typically hidden inner passions swelling forth in a great display. Should a trigger then need pulling, he’d do it—when he otherwise might ordinarily not have the gall to.
Gelide – Arctic’s mother, and the parent involved in his upbringing. Though he was sired only out of his father Antarctic’s need for an heir, Gelide’s attachment was much more direct and real, something that was always apparent no matter her state of mind. When Antarctic fell ill and suffered a suspiciously untimely death, Gelide received a role of leadership she was ill prepared for, which began to wear on her over time, leading her to use several regressive transformations to keep her mental state intact, though each successive one seemed to make her stranger and stranger. Arctic didn’t see the final one occur, however, as he was sent off to be taught before it came to pass, his education serving as an excellent excuse for Gelide to get her son well away from the cutthroat politics that surrounded the dying Stratocracy in those days. It was only upon Arctic’s eventual return that he bore witness to it, alongside the state that she was in. Though even now he doesn’t entirely grasp just what lengths she went to to protect him and his innocence throughout his youth, he knows full well that there was quite a lot involved, something he doesn’t take for granted. Of all the things Arctic now wishes for as part of the Stellar Stratocracy’s rebuilding, Gelide being restored to her old self again tops the list.
Bantu – The man who was responsible for educating Arctic on all sorts of topics, be it martial arts, academia, philosophy, or any number of things. Having once served as Gelide’s retainer in her youth, he was perhaps more closely tasked with preventing her escape—but managed to bond with her all the same, leading to his selection as a mentor many years later. This tutelage occurred over the course of five years, concluding shortly before the beginning of Arctic’s story, and having first begun after he had turned twelve. A jittery, excitable sort of reptilian creature, Bantu came from a very spiritualistic culture and had spent many years as a military conscript-turned-elite under Arctic’s father, lending him a broad field of skills and knowledges, even before he became a sort of guru in his later years. He was a surprisingly wholesome influence on Arctic, serving as something of a makeshift father figure to the boy, though his teachings were rigorous. Though Bantu was indeed paid a tidy sum to teach him, that payment had been up-front, and to Arctic’s knowledge, there would have been nothing to stop the old lizard from leaving him to return home or go his own way as the Stellar Stratocracy gradually faded. Although perhaps just being a mark of a good person, it also seemed a sign of genuine care for Arctic that nothing of the sort ever occurred… Though there was more to the story that he was never aware of. Even as Bantu had begun his military career as a conscript, he ended it as a deserter after Antarctic’s death, wanting to return home without further bloodshed. The desire to do so, however, was something he’d confided in Gelide long before he ever made his move. For many, many years, he’d thought he’d made a clean break, only to later discover that Gelide already knew of him at the same time he was offered the job of teaching Arctic. With the stipulations being enough money to disappear for good and a promise of no further direct contact, he took the job, not truly wanting to refuse. For him, besides wanting to do right by Gelide, seeing Arctic’s tutelage through was his final task to escape from those old years of his life.
Nehhelin – Bantu’s mate, of the same species as he. Where Bantu is more energetic and loose, she’s slow-spoken, confident, and absolutely rocksteady. She also went along with the two on their journeys, and had many a lesson of her own to impart, these generally being more related to the practical and clever—though she did have a few fighting techniques to her name as well, despite never being a soldier. An endless wellspring of good advice and sayings always seemed at her disposal, all of which Arctic has tried to take to heart, though with perhaps a few reservations regarding a few things related to proper living or governance. Though he didn’t spend as much immediate time around her as he did Bantu, Arctic was still very close to her. She understood the situation just as well as her mate, and had encouraged the acceptance of the job, having ever since just done what she could to make things easier on all of them. She had never been made a conscript herself, but knew just how much Bantu had obsessed over escape during the many years he was gone, and was willing to do whatever it took to make sure that his freedom remained intact.
Arctic was born the successor of a would-be galactic empire with much to prove. It was the Stellar Stratocracy, strung together from two separate, wholly uncooperative lesser halves. Both well before and after Arctic was sired, much the same could be said about the marriage of the two that ruled it—though, in truth, it was ever and always ruled only by one... his father, Antarctic. In days past, he’d headed the empire that had conquered and absorbed the other, and was as strong of mind as he was weak of body. Aiming to avoid the bulk of the political turmoil sure to arise with the union of two empires at odds, he wedded the leader of the other, a far younger woman by the name of the Gelide, under the threat of further conflict. It was his hope that this action would create a far more stable unification, given that Gelide was not visibly deposed, though in truth the masquerade was skin deep. In the short term, however, his gambit paid off splendidly—and would ultimately fulfill the entirely separate problem of producing an heir.
Antarctic’s time within his son’s life lasted only as long as the consequences of his actions remained unfulfilled. Outside of quite bluntly naming the boy after himself, there was little to no direct contact between the two, not while Arctic was still too young to be taught much of anything. Such an interaction was never to occur, however, for Antarctic was struck down by a poisoned cup, courtesy of his wife. Gelide had not been idle during their loveless years together, and despite being a prisoner in her own home, had gradually grown enough in influence, subtlety and tact to see a plan of assassination carried through, and evidence of the incident kept under wraps. Though Antarctic had simply died of old age in the public eye, allowing for a clean transfer of power, Arctic would come to have suspicions as he grew older, suspicions that were later directly confirmed by Gelide herself. This was told to him without fear, however, for he already knew full well that things would have been far worse for him under his father’s reign.
This wasn’t to say that Arctic’s childhood was without strife or struggle, however. For better or worse, those years were certainly busy and colorful alike, but for all the wrong reasons. His mother Gelide was clever and willful, but had still been entirely unready for the mantle of imperial leadership, and it was only so long before the strain began to show. As time ceaselessly wore on, she had to shift more and more tasks from her shoulders onto those of ministers and aids, spent hours at a time indisposed behind closed doors, and seemed ever more increasingly frazzled and dazed. Eventually, she went as far as to exploit their species’ penchant for transformation, and underwent a bizarre one indeed, designed to contain and push away much of herself, all thought and aspects of her personality that she thought were inhibiting her. The resulting Gelide was cruel and calculating, but did indeed seem more in control… for a time. The change did not last.
It was at this point that Arctic began to get a taste of responsibility, settling minor disputes and dealing with lobbyists under the guidance of the more experienced—though those dealt with were less than happy to see a mere boy at the helm regardless. When Gelide eventually underwent a second transformation, this one strong and controlling, that also all too soon began to mentally deteriorate, however, Arctic saw no better choice than to take on even more work, using his still limited diplomatic experience (and leaning heavily on that of others) to parley with planetary governments on behalf of many an official, each one desperate simply for a face of authority that didn’t appear vacant. In his own way, Arctic felt much the same, but could only hope to fulfill that role. He didn’t tell Gelide about what he was doing, nor did he plan to, for he feared she would put a stop to it.
When she found out, she did indeed.
She was both furious and terrified at once, worried out of her mind that her son was taking steps that would lead him to ruin—to a state like her own. Aiming to cut the issue from the very root, she invoked an old noble trapping and sent Arctic afar off to be educated, publically on the basis of having him learn in an unfamiliar environment to build character, where she hoped he could be free of worry and political burden until he was older, and more ready for it than she had been. She sent him to an old friend in a faraway part of the galaxy, a man called Bantu. Arctic was twelve at the time.
Five long years would pass ere Arctic would return, with communication between him and the Stratocracy limited in the extreme. Constantly bouncing between spaceports and obscure worlds innumerable all the while, each day brought a new lesson, some of the greatest among them focused on very simple ideas drawn out of Bantu’s own personal philosophy; however, even among these, one stood chief before the rest. ‘Fight not merely to win, but to prevent future battles.’ This was something the old lizard applied to just about any type of conflict in life, and those words Arctic remembers quite well. Though this time was also stressful in its own right, the boy’s uprooted and vigorously tested condition did less to bother him than it might have for another, as he’d been relatively familiar with both well beforehand. The notion of home is a rather nebulous concept to someone who most typically dwells aboard a large ship, after all.
Even so, those years would eventually wear away, and an older and wiser Arctic then needed to voyage back. Despite distance and silence alike stifling most any scrap of news regarding Gelide or the empire, he still had a more distinct sense of worry worming through his gut that hadn’t bothered him since he’d first departed. Things had been in a sorry state when he’d left, and he had little to no reason to believe that there would have been any improvement since then. Alas, he was quite right, something he became aware of almost immediately upon being unable to actually find the Stratocracy… or indeed, the remnants thereof. After a great deal of inquiry marked by constant dread, Arctic at last discovered that their last vestiges had taken refuge upon the icy and obscure Frieza #17, likely out of necessity rather than any fondness for its history. He had heard little to nothing about what had occurred to drive the tiny empire into such a corner, however, which worried him most of all. To the entirety of the nearby galaxy, they seemed old news.
It’s with this fresh in mind that he now arrives upon the desolate, unnamed world, unsure of what he truly expects to find.
CALL TO ACTION:
His tutelage with Bantu fully completed, Arctic returned home as an adult to at last take up a new post. Discovering the full extent of just how much of that home was in ruin, he now commits himself to rebuilding it a step at a time, using all of his gained experience to make such a seemingly insurmountable task one of true possibility.
FIGHTING STYLE: Analytical
SKILL POINTS: 50
FIGHTING (Accuracy): 20 (+5 Analytical)
ENERGY CONTROL (Damage): 25 (+5 Racial)
REFLEXES (Defense): 15
RESILIENCE (HP): 0
SKILL POINTS: 50
FIGHTING (Accuracy): 20 (+5 Analytical)
ENERGY CONTROL (Damage): 25 (+5 Racial)
REFLEXES (Defense): 15
RESILIENCE (HP): 0
Aether Gun - Barrage Super, Major: Charging
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