Post by Turles on Nov 23, 2023 7:26:47 GMT
Character Name: Turles
Canon Character or Original Character: Canon
Face Claim: N/A
Character Race: Saiyan
Character Racial Traits: Oozaru, Zenkai
Character Gender: Male
Character Age: 40
Character Alignment: Immoral
Starting Planet: Sadala
Starting Items: Relic Space Pod, Battleworn Saiyan Army Scouter
Starting Package: B
Stats:
Strength: 5600
Ki: 1900
Agility: 3750
Durability:3750
Techniques (if any):
Personality: Turles is outwardly confident. He is prideful about his Saiyan heritage. He believes strongly in their potential and especially wants others of his kind to feel the same. Simultaneously, he is resentful of his own prior designation as a low-ranking warrior. For a long time, this promoted an aggressive insecurity. He felt the need to prove himself by seizing victory where possible, and demonstrating himself more ruthless than others. He was also somewhat taciturn, fearful to reveal something about himself that could be a weakness. He enjoys company, and fears expressing that point with too much that is recognizable as gratitude or camaraderie.
This has begun to change. He still does not engage in much small talk. But he is more open to soaring, grandliloquent speech. These are a substitute for physical aggression; he is now less belligerent. He is also more contemplative. He has become impressed with the notion that there are important things he does not understand. He is trying to force himself to hold back until he can correct the deficiency, but every time he looks it seems to grow larger.
History: Turles was a low-class but competent warrior of the Saiyan race. The mismatch between his potential and his station caused him to chafe, and he gained something of a reputation for insubordination. This reached a tipping point when one of his assigned missions went bad, and Turles decided to desert. In what might be called both fortune and tragedy, Emperor Frieza decided to purge the Saiyan race at the very time Turles might have been called to account for his crimes. Adrift, he struggled to survive, and fell into the patterns he was already most familiar with. Though he built a small mercenary force around himself, things would not accelerate until he stumbled on the Tree of Might.
Convinced it was intertwined with the destiny of him and his people, he set about trying to use it. For a bright moment, everything seemed possible. Then he set his sights on planet Earth. There, he hoped to harvest more fruit and regain a Saiyan compatriot all in one fell swoop. Instead, his encounter with Kakkarot turned disastrous. He lost the mission, the tree, and his life. In the afterlife, he struggled with the sobering revelation that even the Freiza Force itself was eventually wiped out. Now resurrected, he struggles to understand a new path of life.
Sample RP: He woke up again. Same as last time, because it hurt too much to breathe. To exist. Every part of his being offered some unique take on the phenomenon. There was sharp, lancing pain of his ribs every time his diaphragm contracted. The electric numbness-cum-itch that stretched over wide swaths of his body. The deep, wringing cramp where muscles had torn or simply over-extended themselves. He only managed to sleep when he couldn't hold on to consciousness any longer, and every time it felt like dying.
But this was the third time, and he was beginning to learn. He remembered transforming with the rest of his squad. About to rain down on the planet in what should have been the definitive blow. More proximal, he remembered other things. The grit at his neck was too hard to be dirt. The air too thin to breathe comfortably even apart from his injuries. Turles was on a mountain. He suspected that was the fact that had saved him. Whenever he tried to open communications on his scouter, he was met with nothing but a burst of static. There were worse things, too. Awful and inescapable. He was spread-eagled on the ground, staring skyward, too weak to moved. The scouter could do basic astronomical calculations. It could always pick out planet Sadala in the night sky. Except now, working perfectly, it couldn't. There was some kind of anomaly where it should have been.
He couldn't think of that now. He couldn't think of anything. True enough, he wasn't down in the lowland population centers, where armies might have fell on him in his moment of weakness. He had taken the assault to the planetary guardian. Won, insofar as he could tell. But at too high a cost. His body was ruined. His strike force destroyed. He was truly, finally alone. Real warriors had to be brave enough to accept their fate.
He--gods it hurt. The shrill beep of his scanner. One of the alarms he didn't think to deactivate, because he rarely used it. One that he couldn't stop now, because his tongue felt so dry, and cracked and massive that it seemed there was no space to move it, even if he could part his lips. He had to press through the fog. What did it mean? He blinked. Translation complete. Of course. Translation complete, while he stared at a pile of rubble.
The machine had noticed what he hadn't, engraved on one of the larger fragments in subtle alien script: "Treasures of the Sacred Grove"
Referred By: Blue/Emperor Pilaf