Post by Rebamassh on Apr 1, 2023 9:36:47 GMT -5
Rebamassh
a.k.a. Joni Keigg, Mad Dog
Male
115
Earth
Cerealian
Regular Path
Long Lifespan
Evolved Red Eye
Incredible Insight
Evolved Red Eye
Incredible Insight
ONE TIME USE SPACE POD
Distanced Fighter
I'm on my own
Straight to the point
Appearance
Grizzled and worn out, he may surprise you with his quick moves and fit physique. Under his usual attire are hidden well-built muscles, several scars, and tanned by long hours outdoor skin. In his eyes, you'd see many things - anger, cold, fatigue, yearning, and regret...
His hair kept long, greying, silky smooth, and somewhat unfitting to the rest of his visage.
His hair kept long, greying, silky smooth, and somewhat unfitting to the rest of his visage.
Personality
As fate would have it, this old dog was thrust upon a path that would lead him far from being a saint. He'd end up in some shady places and crime dens, full of sinners and vices, many of which he partook in... Rebamassh wasn't like that once - before it all, you'd not hear him bark nor see bite. He was a gentle, helpful soul, engaging with his community and a loving family member. But now...
Now he's as cold and unyielding as the gun he carries around. All the warmth and empathy he had for other people he had to cast away and bury deep down as he does with his targets...
You could spot him in some backwater bar, sitting in the back alone, takings swigs of some strong drink, and you wouldn't think much of him, just some desperado. So it may seem, but you better pray he doesn't spot you. If he got his eyes on you, expect to be a goner soon. You can run and hide, but you won't escape. Once the contract's sealed, he'll hunt you down relentlessly like a feral animal. It's nothing personal, just a way to earn a pretty penny... And a lifetime of guilt...
Now he's as cold and unyielding as the gun he carries around. All the warmth and empathy he had for other people he had to cast away and bury deep down as he does with his targets...
You could spot him in some backwater bar, sitting in the back alone, takings swigs of some strong drink, and you wouldn't think much of him, just some desperado. So it may seem, but you better pray he doesn't spot you. If he got his eyes on you, expect to be a goner soon. You can run and hide, but you won't escape. Once the contract's sealed, he'll hunt you down relentlessly like a feral animal. It's nothing personal, just a way to earn a pretty penny... And a lifetime of guilt...
History
Rebam used to be just a delivery man, as weird as it may seem for someone from a warrior race. Among his peers, he would seem unremarkable, but there was something about him... There must have been, as how otherwise would he find such a wonderful, brave wife? Ever since they were kids, she'd run straight into danger, and Rebam would look at it with awe and fear.
Once their daughter was old enough, Frita wanted to take her on some missions and introduce her to the trade. Rebam was against it at first but, with time, got around to the idea. It wasn't easy on him, but he was proud of his girls and rejoiced every time they came from their 'hunting trips'.
It couldn't be so idyllic always, now could it?
One day as he was returning from work, all excited to see his loved ones return, he only found a note from the bounty hunter's guild... They asked him to identify the bodies.
As it turned out later, some other hunter from a different guild wasn't too happy with Frita and Omuri beating them to the target...
Once the funerary rites were performed, what was there for him to do...? Everyone thought, himself included, that he'd slip into despair and alcohol, perhaps leading to his untimely end.
Much to his surprise, though, the more he thought about that whole thing, the more he felt a swelling, burning desire in his heart. He was out for blood...
Finding that bastard wasn't hard, as even his guild wanted to oust him. They did not ascribe to such methods as he deployed.
As much as hatred fueled Rebam's actions and fists, he wasn't prepared to take down a trained professional. Once he approached the killer, he barely made it out alive. He was never a warrior, but that encounter made it clear that if he wanted to get his vengeance, he'd need to learn how to fight and kill. He was given by a friend of his wife an address where they could help him. One lonely night, tipsy on whisky, he would go there. Rebam would later, thinking back to that time, wonder what was more asinine - banging on the door of the assassins guild while drunk, or actually joining them.
Either way, once they heard him say, 'I have a motherfucker to kill', they'd welcome him in, and thus, 'Mad Dog' was born...
That was over 20 years ago. Of that bastard killer are now left some bleached in the sun, pecked by birds and scattered around bones. Rebam, now a veteran of the trade with many contracts to his name, even more regrets and no more purpose to keep going forward...
Once their daughter was old enough, Frita wanted to take her on some missions and introduce her to the trade. Rebam was against it at first but, with time, got around to the idea. It wasn't easy on him, but he was proud of his girls and rejoiced every time they came from their 'hunting trips'.
It couldn't be so idyllic always, now could it?
One day as he was returning from work, all excited to see his loved ones return, he only found a note from the bounty hunter's guild... They asked him to identify the bodies.
As it turned out later, some other hunter from a different guild wasn't too happy with Frita and Omuri beating them to the target...
Once the funerary rites were performed, what was there for him to do...? Everyone thought, himself included, that he'd slip into despair and alcohol, perhaps leading to his untimely end.
Much to his surprise, though, the more he thought about that whole thing, the more he felt a swelling, burning desire in his heart. He was out for blood...
Finding that bastard wasn't hard, as even his guild wanted to oust him. They did not ascribe to such methods as he deployed.
As much as hatred fueled Rebam's actions and fists, he wasn't prepared to take down a trained professional. Once he approached the killer, he barely made it out alive. He was never a warrior, but that encounter made it clear that if he wanted to get his vengeance, he'd need to learn how to fight and kill. He was given by a friend of his wife an address where they could help him. One lonely night, tipsy on whisky, he would go there. Rebam would later, thinking back to that time, wonder what was more asinine - banging on the door of the assassins guild while drunk, or actually joining them.
Either way, once they heard him say, 'I have a motherfucker to kill', they'd welcome him in, and thus, 'Mad Dog' was born...
That was over 20 years ago. Of that bastard killer are now left some bleached in the sun, pecked by birds and scattered around bones. Rebam, now a veteran of the trade with many contracts to his name, even more regrets and no more purpose to keep going forward...
Techniques
OT1 - Shootout - 1TP
Rebam unholsters his trademark gun to launch a strong energy blast; what it lacks is finesse, it makes up in pure power.
A1OT1 - Bullseye - 2TP
A more precise and, therefore, deadly attack that takes from Rebam's natural talents as a Cerealian.
DT1 - Smokescreen -1TP
Anticipating an incoming attack, Rebam shoots a blast dispersing into a cloud of smoke, successfully concealing his visage and allowing him to avoid damage.
ST1 - You Can Run - 1TP
Allows Rebamassh to fly
ST1 - You can't hide - 1TP
Allows to sense energy
Rebam unholsters his trademark gun to launch a strong energy blast; what it lacks is finesse, it makes up in pure power.
A1OT1 - Bullseye - 2TP
A more precise and, therefore, deadly attack that takes from Rebam's natural talents as a Cerealian.
DT1 - Smokescreen -1TP
Anticipating an incoming attack, Rebam shoots a blast dispersing into a cloud of smoke, successfully concealing his visage and allowing him to avoid damage.
ST1 - You Can Run - 1TP
Allows Rebamassh to fly
ST1 - You can't hide - 1TP
Allows to sense energy
Roleplay Sample
Clank. The bottom of the bottle hit Rebam's bent knee as he took a swig and rested against a tree. He took a deep breath, enjoying the nice, fresh air away from the cities. It was a pleasant day, way too pleasant to be on the job, but alas, he wasn't so lucky. He closed his eyes for a moment. Warm rays of sunlight hit his face, but he wasn't bothered by them.
Clank.
As the leaves rustled on the wind, he began to daydream... He saw a scene from his past - he was on a picnic with his family. He was sitting on the blanket, keeping the ants away from the basket, while Frita and Omuri were running around, catching frogs and grasshoppers as they hopped away. The edge of his mouth moved up as he reminisced about that moment... The grasp on his gun loosened.
That did not pass unnoticed...
Clank.
Close to dozing off, Rebam almost did not notice what was happening, but only almost. He heard the grass begin rustling, and someone approached him, followed by the sound and sensation of his gun pulled out of his hand. Slowly his eyes opened.
'Oh?', he mumbled.
Before him stood a Boulean, dirty and sweaty, all four eyes glaring at the Cerealian, gun aimed at his head.
'Why? Why do you do it?' he drawled.
'Because I was paid to? Is that clear enough for you?', Rebam replied.
'Do you think this is funny, you murderer?! I got your gun aimed right at you!' the Boulean clenched his teeth.
'Well, this would be intimidating if you were, well, intimidating', Reb scoffed.
The green-skinned alien seemingly took exception to that as he growled in anger.
'Now you die!' he expelled as he pulled the trigger. However, much to his surprise and dismay, there was no shot, no bang, no smoke, no nothing.
As quickly as the confidence came to him with the gun in his hand, similarly, it just as quickly left him, along with the colour on his face. He looked at the weapon, and back at Rebam, now standing up, towering over the shivering alien.
'See?' the Cerealian took the gun out of the small barely grasping, blistered hands of his adversary. 'And you had a perfectly good tool for the job, yet your hubris told you to use something that wasn't yours, and for what? Some poetic justice?'.
Rebamassh squinted at him.
'That's why I got a hit on you', he said calmly. 'You tried to take something that wasn't yours, and someone paid good money to take you down;.
Stretching out his arm, he aimed the gun at the Boulean and fired it. No bullet came out however, instead, a blast of concentrated Ki struck and pushed the alien away, right into a newly dug hole.
'Keep digging', the assassin said, 'We ain't got the whole day...'
Once the deed was done, Reb would make sure to fill up the hole. Not by any means the preferred part of his job, alas, the part that made sure none really sniffed around. Some would anyway, but that's something the guild graciously provided - ways to deal with law enforcement and P.I.
By the time Reb finished, the weather had shifted. The clear, blue sky from before was now grey and clouded, and a cold wind came from the east.
'A storm is brewing, eh?' he said to himself, his look stern and sorrowful. He put on his mask and porched the shovel upon his back to take off against the wind...
Clank.
As the leaves rustled on the wind, he began to daydream... He saw a scene from his past - he was on a picnic with his family. He was sitting on the blanket, keeping the ants away from the basket, while Frita and Omuri were running around, catching frogs and grasshoppers as they hopped away. The edge of his mouth moved up as he reminisced about that moment... The grasp on his gun loosened.
That did not pass unnoticed...
Clank.
Close to dozing off, Rebam almost did not notice what was happening, but only almost. He heard the grass begin rustling, and someone approached him, followed by the sound and sensation of his gun pulled out of his hand. Slowly his eyes opened.
'Oh?', he mumbled.
Before him stood a Boulean, dirty and sweaty, all four eyes glaring at the Cerealian, gun aimed at his head.
'Why? Why do you do it?' he drawled.
'Because I was paid to? Is that clear enough for you?', Rebam replied.
'Do you think this is funny, you murderer?! I got your gun aimed right at you!' the Boulean clenched his teeth.
'Well, this would be intimidating if you were, well, intimidating', Reb scoffed.
The green-skinned alien seemingly took exception to that as he growled in anger.
'Now you die!' he expelled as he pulled the trigger. However, much to his surprise and dismay, there was no shot, no bang, no smoke, no nothing.
As quickly as the confidence came to him with the gun in his hand, similarly, it just as quickly left him, along with the colour on his face. He looked at the weapon, and back at Rebam, now standing up, towering over the shivering alien.
'See?' the Cerealian took the gun out of the small barely grasping, blistered hands of his adversary. 'And you had a perfectly good tool for the job, yet your hubris told you to use something that wasn't yours, and for what? Some poetic justice?'.
Rebamassh squinted at him.
'That's why I got a hit on you', he said calmly. 'You tried to take something that wasn't yours, and someone paid good money to take you down;.
Stretching out his arm, he aimed the gun at the Boulean and fired it. No bullet came out however, instead, a blast of concentrated Ki struck and pushed the alien away, right into a newly dug hole.
'Keep digging', the assassin said, 'We ain't got the whole day...'
Once the deed was done, Reb would make sure to fill up the hole. Not by any means the preferred part of his job, alas, the part that made sure none really sniffed around. Some would anyway, but that's something the guild graciously provided - ways to deal with law enforcement and P.I.
By the time Reb finished, the weather had shifted. The clear, blue sky from before was now grey and clouded, and a cold wind came from the east.
'A storm is brewing, eh?' he said to himself, his look stern and sorrowful. He put on his mask and porched the shovel upon his back to take off against the wind...
FC NAME from SERIES
