Post by Namorel on Jun 13, 2019 21:30:50 GMT
Namorel
Race
Namekian
Race Traits
Elasticity - Allows one or more melee attacks to reach over two range zones for 10% more stamina cost. Normal melee can be done one range further.
Regeneration - Can recover up to 30% HP (-5% HP regeneration per use in a thread) of their HP. 1:2 cost to Stamina per point/percentage in HP. Max HP is reduced by 5% per use. Can regrow lost/dismembered limbs.
Age
400 Years Old
35,469 Years Old (Via Stasis)
Gender
N/A
Starting Planet
Frost
Personality
From a young age Namorel was taught to stand his ground and this was foundational to his identity as a Warrior Clan Namekian, defining who he was decades. However this changed some when he came to see the errors of his home and those that were in charge, he would continue to stand his ground, but he would do so for the greater good as he saw it in the eyes of those without a say rather than the best interests for those in charged.
He stands firmly by those he considered allies and will defend them and himself even to the smallest insult, often not holding back for the smallest infraction. However, typically this form of comeback will begin in the verbal manner rather that instantly jumping to combat, but should a diss not be enough he will pummel them into oblivion.
Namorel has always been rather quick-witted, a skill he took to its extreme when he took up the hobby of rap. One of the few pastimes he had on Namek to kill time on the otherwise lonely and desolate world.
Appearance
Height: 9'11"
Weight: 238lbs
History
As I walk through the plain named after Maima
I discover the truth of my life I'm a ryhma
'Cause I've been rappin' and scrappin' so long
That even the Elder Guru thinks my mind has gone
But I ain't never met a monkey that didn't deserve it
People callin' me a chump, then they aint heard from
you better watch watcha sayin', or who ya playin'
Or you and your Nameks be dead where you layin'
I'm never one to trip, but I gotta say
Imma fix this planet and save Namek one day
I'm the kinda green little Nameks want to be like
On my feet like a man in hopes to set this planet right
Been spending most my life
To build a Namek paradise
Put an end to pain and strife
To build a Namek paradise
And I'll still dedicate my life
To build a Namek paradise
And I'll still dedicate my life
To build a Namek paradise
And at the moment that the changes were racin'
The other planets caught wind, to the Namek they'll meet
Fearful and ready to stomp a on a Namek's dream
Airwaves filled with lies, calling revolution empty screams
The five leaders of the galaxy with peace on their mind
put together s plan in hopes they all wouldn't die
Knowin' full well that the Namek would anger
Had to pull together their plans to make a lyrical anchor
Trap this Namek in a prison and hide him away
Knowin' that if he broke free there'd be hell to pay
Now I sit in this pod waiting for my time
When I can rise from this coffin and spit my rhyme
Non-Lyrical History
Namorel was born as many other are on his home planet so long ago, a warrior settled into his caste by the constraints of his society. For many many years he accepted this, the fate that had befallen him and the others of his kinda, to be relegated as fodder to a perpetual system of rotational failures and without benefit to the masses and only those above. There was rarely conflict on Namek and this offered little solace to those bred for combat, dependent on this very basic and most primal of all desires.
However this would change as life for the young Namekian was due to change in an instant. A foreign convoy had to make a stop on the planet due to a rupture in their tanker, Namorel among his peers took great interest in these foreigners, quickly learning they hailed from a distant planet known as Frost, they carried information about their home and their leader and particular how society worked on that world. Many considered them liars or postulated that these structures would serve Namek no benefit, but Namorel believed otherwise. Continuing to learn from them until the day they had to leave, they left him with a collection of materials to continue his studies and come to fully understand what he wished to learn.
For weeks he sat over these materials, a half filled glass of water, stirred by the constant training outside. His mind wrought the possibilities, yearned over what could be. In time he came to memorize it all and even took up the style of communication that acted as succession on Frost, a style they called 'rap'. The time had finally come for him to take his thoughts to the Elder and his council, to let them know how he felt Namek could be improved. In short time he was dispatched from the room, told that his thoughts, his hopes, and his desires stood no place on Namek as life was as perfect as it needed to be. It was at this point something stirred in the young Namekian; frustration and anger boiled underneath as he began to write and think... how could be change Namek for the better?
He started small, collecting those of the like mind to listen to his thoughts and begin spreading the information further and further until he had amassed a proper army, a collective unit of those who also wished to see Namek become what it most potentially could. Surrounded by those who believed the Namekian conducted a coup on the elder council, supplanting the current Guru and replacing him with a well respected Dragon Clansmen, Namorel took hold as a political and militaristic leader... today was the day that Namek changed for the better.
For decades he ran Namek as he had read, building cities, training armies and preparing warships, time seemed to fly though as it all came together, eventually he was ready. With those who would listen to his every word at the ready he declared total galactic conquest, to show those around the universe that Namek was not a lesser planet and that they would put any who disagreed into their place. For years he would fight a war on five fronts, against a coalition of the Frost-Sejin, the Earthlings, the Herans, the Saiyans, and the rioters back home on Namek. Little by little his control slipped however and these five forces closed in on him, when the Namekian was finally captured it was decided that he would be locked away underneath the capital of Planet Frost never to be awoken from his forced cryogenic stasis.
Techniques
Example Solo
Eons pass while grand men slumber, the world around them shifting to stagnation. Where once the ground quivered and shook in their presence, it quells to the footsteps of children playing. Where the sky was rent asunder by their might the clouds part only for those that fly past ever so peacefully. The reverberations of the mightiest of kind lost to the sands of time as they sit and slumber on their frozen thrones. Dreams of conquest and glory persist and these men alone know their birth rite. In the bowels of an ancient capital, miles beneath the icy tundra and stored away for decades ahead, a man once feared by the galaxy slumbers, waiting for the say that he can return to his helm and wreck havoc on the universe once more, to show them the might and prowess of not only his kind, but his ideology. Let them know why the ground sank to their whim and the clouds were tore open with their voice alone, the strength of men like himself has been forgotten from this world and he seeks to change this in time. To let his people and those who are not see why his name was etched into the scrolls of history.
In this arctic crypt the ancient Namekian slept, his mind never once clam as his body sat in stasis. Dreams of a better world and a universe not restrained by the conflicts of their past. His dream was once possible many many years ago when ships of Namekian make tore through the galaxy, bending the will of planets before his might. Yet where he stood at his strongest, he was struck down and restrained by those that he considered allies, all who had sided with his worst enemies, those that showed the truest examples of zealotry in the universe at large. It was in these memories that he dreamed, dreamed of what could have been, a world without significant conflict, where those who lived in it could be who they wanted and pursue whatever they desired. In this world he would not rule, no there would be no need for rulers here, simply the happiness and well being of those that lived there. Should conflict ever arise then these men and women would rise to the occasion to protect their own home. Yet utopias are never what they seem, are they?
When the time comes and ice bound by ages past shatters, perhaps this man of Namekian origin can change the outcomes of the past and work towards that goal that sat at his finger tips centuries past. Only time will tell as ancient forces rise from their beds, eyes once more intent on the universe, to rest their feet on the soil and their voices to the air, will the ground and sky fear before them once more, or is the era of these men of great power past, gone and forever forgotten to the sands of time, an echo of the greatness of history.
Race
Namekian
Race Traits
Elasticity - Allows one or more melee attacks to reach over two range zones for 10% more stamina cost. Normal melee can be done one range further.
Regeneration - Can recover up to 30% HP (-5% HP regeneration per use in a thread) of their HP. 1:2 cost to Stamina per point/percentage in HP. Max HP is reduced by 5% per use. Can regrow lost/dismembered limbs.
Age
400 Years Old
35,469 Years Old (Via Stasis)
Gender
N/A
Starting Planet
Frost
Personality
From a young age Namorel was taught to stand his ground and this was foundational to his identity as a Warrior Clan Namekian, defining who he was decades. However this changed some when he came to see the errors of his home and those that were in charge, he would continue to stand his ground, but he would do so for the greater good as he saw it in the eyes of those without a say rather than the best interests for those in charged.
He stands firmly by those he considered allies and will defend them and himself even to the smallest insult, often not holding back for the smallest infraction. However, typically this form of comeback will begin in the verbal manner rather that instantly jumping to combat, but should a diss not be enough he will pummel them into oblivion.
Namorel has always been rather quick-witted, a skill he took to its extreme when he took up the hobby of rap. One of the few pastimes he had on Namek to kill time on the otherwise lonely and desolate world.
Appearance
Height: 9'11"
Weight: 238lbs
History
As I walk through the plain named after Maima
I discover the truth of my life I'm a ryhma
'Cause I've been rappin' and scrappin' so long
That even the Elder Guru thinks my mind has gone
But I ain't never met a monkey that didn't deserve it
People callin' me a chump, then they aint heard from
you better watch watcha sayin', or who ya playin'
Or you and your Nameks be dead where you layin'
I'm never one to trip, but I gotta say
Imma fix this planet and save Namek one day
I'm the kinda green little Nameks want to be like
On my feet like a man in hopes to set this planet right
Been spending most my life
To build a Namek paradise
Put an end to pain and strife
To build a Namek paradise
And I'll still dedicate my life
To build a Namek paradise
And I'll still dedicate my life
To build a Namek paradise
And at the moment that the changes were racin'
The other planets caught wind, to the Namek they'll meet
Fearful and ready to stomp a on a Namek's dream
Airwaves filled with lies, calling revolution empty screams
The five leaders of the galaxy with peace on their mind
put together s plan in hopes they all wouldn't die
Knowin' full well that the Namek would anger
Had to pull together their plans to make a lyrical anchor
Trap this Namek in a prison and hide him away
Knowin' that if he broke free there'd be hell to pay
Now I sit in this pod waiting for my time
When I can rise from this coffin and spit my rhyme
Non-Lyrical History
Namorel was born as many other are on his home planet so long ago, a warrior settled into his caste by the constraints of his society. For many many years he accepted this, the fate that had befallen him and the others of his kinda, to be relegated as fodder to a perpetual system of rotational failures and without benefit to the masses and only those above. There was rarely conflict on Namek and this offered little solace to those bred for combat, dependent on this very basic and most primal of all desires.
However this would change as life for the young Namekian was due to change in an instant. A foreign convoy had to make a stop on the planet due to a rupture in their tanker, Namorel among his peers took great interest in these foreigners, quickly learning they hailed from a distant planet known as Frost, they carried information about their home and their leader and particular how society worked on that world. Many considered them liars or postulated that these structures would serve Namek no benefit, but Namorel believed otherwise. Continuing to learn from them until the day they had to leave, they left him with a collection of materials to continue his studies and come to fully understand what he wished to learn.
For weeks he sat over these materials, a half filled glass of water, stirred by the constant training outside. His mind wrought the possibilities, yearned over what could be. In time he came to memorize it all and even took up the style of communication that acted as succession on Frost, a style they called 'rap'. The time had finally come for him to take his thoughts to the Elder and his council, to let them know how he felt Namek could be improved. In short time he was dispatched from the room, told that his thoughts, his hopes, and his desires stood no place on Namek as life was as perfect as it needed to be. It was at this point something stirred in the young Namekian; frustration and anger boiled underneath as he began to write and think... how could be change Namek for the better?
He started small, collecting those of the like mind to listen to his thoughts and begin spreading the information further and further until he had amassed a proper army, a collective unit of those who also wished to see Namek become what it most potentially could. Surrounded by those who believed the Namekian conducted a coup on the elder council, supplanting the current Guru and replacing him with a well respected Dragon Clansmen, Namorel took hold as a political and militaristic leader... today was the day that Namek changed for the better.
For decades he ran Namek as he had read, building cities, training armies and preparing warships, time seemed to fly though as it all came together, eventually he was ready. With those who would listen to his every word at the ready he declared total galactic conquest, to show those around the universe that Namek was not a lesser planet and that they would put any who disagreed into their place. For years he would fight a war on five fronts, against a coalition of the Frost-Sejin, the Earthlings, the Herans, the Saiyans, and the rioters back home on Namek. Little by little his control slipped however and these five forces closed in on him, when the Namekian was finally captured it was decided that he would be locked away underneath the capital of Planet Frost never to be awoken from his forced cryogenic stasis.
Techniques
Example Solo
Eons pass while grand men slumber, the world around them shifting to stagnation. Where once the ground quivered and shook in their presence, it quells to the footsteps of children playing. Where the sky was rent asunder by their might the clouds part only for those that fly past ever so peacefully. The reverberations of the mightiest of kind lost to the sands of time as they sit and slumber on their frozen thrones. Dreams of conquest and glory persist and these men alone know their birth rite. In the bowels of an ancient capital, miles beneath the icy tundra and stored away for decades ahead, a man once feared by the galaxy slumbers, waiting for the say that he can return to his helm and wreck havoc on the universe once more, to show them the might and prowess of not only his kind, but his ideology. Let them know why the ground sank to their whim and the clouds were tore open with their voice alone, the strength of men like himself has been forgotten from this world and he seeks to change this in time. To let his people and those who are not see why his name was etched into the scrolls of history.
In this arctic crypt the ancient Namekian slept, his mind never once clam as his body sat in stasis. Dreams of a better world and a universe not restrained by the conflicts of their past. His dream was once possible many many years ago when ships of Namekian make tore through the galaxy, bending the will of planets before his might. Yet where he stood at his strongest, he was struck down and restrained by those that he considered allies, all who had sided with his worst enemies, those that showed the truest examples of zealotry in the universe at large. It was in these memories that he dreamed, dreamed of what could have been, a world without significant conflict, where those who lived in it could be who they wanted and pursue whatever they desired. In this world he would not rule, no there would be no need for rulers here, simply the happiness and well being of those that lived there. Should conflict ever arise then these men and women would rise to the occasion to protect their own home. Yet utopias are never what they seem, are they?
When the time comes and ice bound by ages past shatters, perhaps this man of Namekian origin can change the outcomes of the past and work towards that goal that sat at his finger tips centuries past. Only time will tell as ancient forces rise from their beds, eyes once more intent on the universe, to rest their feet on the soil and their voices to the air, will the ground and sky fear before them once more, or is the era of these men of great power past, gone and forever forgotten to the sands of time, an echo of the greatness of history.
