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| Osiris; The Scarred One | |
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| Topic Started: Jan 14 2011, 05:38 PM (520 Views) | |
| Osiris | Jan 14 2011, 05:38 PM Post #1 |
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Pallor Lord
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Name: Osiris Description: Age= 17 Height= six-foot-one Weight= 185 lbs. Hair Color= Black Normal Eye Color= Purple Aura/Ki Color= Purple and Crimson Signature Move: Touch of Suffering Background: “Ten years spent on this miserable planet and yet it’s the only place I have ever known as home,” Osiris growled to himself thinking for the thousandth time about his lonely childhood. Abandoned on a molten planet when he was but five; the only memory he still had of his parents was the back of his mother disappearing into the crowded shipping yard. Anymore these days Osiris wasn’t even sure if that was actually his mother. There were never any clues as to what his life was like before his abandonment. Instead, until his thirteenth year, he knew nothing but the rod, the lash, and the endless back breaking work of mining. Being alone and having nowhere to go on the streets of Cauldron is a sure way to get yourself beaten unconscious and drug away to the slave markets. No one ever talks about the slavers, but Osiris knows firsthand the cruelty spawned by greed, and the metals that flow with the lava of Cauldron attracts more than its fair share of greed. Day in and day out he and the rest of his ragged crew were pushed to work the rocks along the fiery rivers with picks and hammers. Most didn’t last more than a month in the blistering heat. More than once Osiris caught a slipping colleague, but far more often than that he watched other slaves melt away into the liquid rock. Sometimes he even watched them jump in just to escape another beating or whipping, those ones he didn’t feel bad for. Each time they did he felt the crushing blow of abandonment knowing they were leaving him there to his fate without a second thought. Often at night he would lay awake considering if he could make himself jump. Maybe even drag a taskmaster in with him. Death wasn’t freedom though; it was just another form of oppression. So he weathered on through the years. It was only by the kindness of some of the other slaves that he learned to read and do basic arithmetic. One woman specifically took a great deal of pride in how fast Osiris could pick up things from such brief lessons. He never really understood why, but he enjoyed looking out for her; sharing food, keeping her from slipping, and doing some of her work to avoid the ire of the taskmasters. For two whole years it went on like this, late into an afternoon though everything changed. Covered in sweat, the woman slipped burning her knee on smoldering rocks. As Osiris bent over to help her to her feet he felt a hard blow to his ribs that made him gasp for air. “Get back to work you worthless piece of crap! I’m tired of you covering for this old hag!” The taskmaster filled the air with curses as he began to kick the woman forcing her onto the burning rocks. She screamed as she came closer and closer to the lava. Before he even realized what had happened Osiris was standing over the fat slaver with the grip of a pick axe in his hand, and its tip buried into the spiny head of his surrogate mother’s attacker. The other slaver screamed with horror, “My brother! You will both pay for this!” He raised the blaster mounted on his arm too quickly to react; Osiris froze waiting for the pain as he heard the slight boom from the discharge. Instead purple blood splattered his face. “NO NO NO!” The body of the only person he had ever considered a friend, even family lied crumpled before him. His mind raced. This isn’t right, I was supposed to be saving her and now there is nothing left. His whole body shook with rage, tears streamed from his eyes. “There’s nothing left, there’s just nothing left,” Osiris whispered to himself. The barrel of a blaster smacked into the back of his head. “You’re right, there’s nothing left because I’m going to kill you,” the taskmaster laughed. Osiris’ right hand shook violently as it started to glow. Suddenly spinning around he knocked the blaster away and drove his right arm forward, ripping through the slaver’s chest. Before he removed his gore covered arm he leaned in close and whispered, “I’m tired of your voice.” The lifeless corpse dropped to the ground as Osiris turned to pick up his surrogate mother’s body. As he strode past the others in silence, panic overcame the newly freed slaves’ awe. “Where are you going?” “Are you just going to leave us here?” “What are we suppose to do?” The whole crowd surged him with questions and the resounding desire for a leader. Osiris was too drained to care about the others, so he gave the simplest possible answer. “I’m going to give my mother a proper burial. I would suggest collecting as many supplies as you can find here and disappear. Whether you go to the city or out further into the burning fields with me, I frankly don’t care.” With that he turned and continued his march west, away from the city and towards the Iron Mountains. He wasn’t traveling alone for very long. In the year that past from that day, the rag tag band of former slaves had turned into a small army of raiders. Whenever the opportunity arouse they would attack work camps, freeing the slaves imprisoned there and each time their numbers swelled. The entire clan claimed the young Osiris as their leader even though he never gave a command. But maybe that’s why they followed him. It wasn’t long before they gave themselves a name. Saoirse, the name of his pseudo-mother. While the Kelioxain government may have turned a blind eye to the slave trading, Osiris would not. Personality: Osiris has developed a cold indifference to shield himself away from his own emotional upheaval. Though he does what he can for the Saoirsen Osiris wishes dearly to be free from the burden they place on him. He never wanted to be anyone's leader, but it would seem he has no choice now. Regardless of his own desires Osiris knows fully that he is in it for the long haul. He will find the Saoirse a new place to call their own, and no one will stand in the way of his duty. Only time will tell if he succeeds before having to deal with his own.....issues. Time Line: Go Fer A Treasure's Lure Life is Just Complicated Fire Frenzy Crystal Ash Zweihander of Glory Night Walker Blood Colored Mist Part One: A New Era Blood Colored Mist Part Two: Journey To The Unknown |
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10:26 AM Jul 11