Full Name:
Abbitt Strellous
Age:
Seven years old. (Twenty-six in Mici years.)
Height:
Two feet and three inches.
Weight:
Eighteen pounds
Race:
Mici (Extraterrestrial)
Eye color(s)
Black sclera with dark gray irises.
Physical Description
Like all others of the Mici race, Abbitt possesses a flat chest and stomach, with short limbs and four digits on each hand, a white-colored exoskeleton head, two jagged horns, two spikes protruding from each side where the ears would be, black and dark gray orbs, plus a number of swirling carvings embedded across his face.
For his attire, a deep blue cloak is worn, combined with a purple scarf around the neck. Beneath it all lays a gray and white undersuit. Strapped beneath the cake on his back is a personal shield-generator, designed to have heavy damage resistance against energy weapons and explosives. As for footwear, two little white boots with small blue ribbons are worn, resembling baby-shoes in shape.
Personality:
Unlike many others of his species who are often full of energy, Abbitt is better composed than most, undeniably sweet towards friends or anyone that would be accepting of him. With some highly refined social and negating skills as an off-world diplomat for the Mici government, he aims to offer others emotional help when seeing another in distress.
One trait that is still retained from his own race is the constant desire for physical affection, which is often why he’ll request to sleep in the same bed with one of his affiliates. This attribute is reflected by him frequently sitting another’s lap, giving frequent hugs, or ask to be carried in somebody’s arms.
Despite the dangers, frequent assassination attempts, and enemies made overtime, Abbitt is almost fearless when it comes to personally oversee independent investigations on slave traders. Burdened by the fact his mother was an abductee herself and likely died as one, he has since sought to prevent others from experiencing the same fate and feeling.
Occupation:
With a degree in galactic politics and criminal justice from other civilizations, Abbitt currently works as an Ambassador for the Mici government, always going on diplomatic missions and meetings with other planetary leaders, in addition to trade negotiations.
As a completely voluntarily side career, slave owners and traffickers are privately investigated, with or without aid from other governments, depending on whether or not they’ll assist him. The aim is to find and give out information to planetary authorities on the whereabouts of slave rings to both shut them down and free the captives. Through Abbitt’s devotion, hundreds of people, both human and alien have been rescued before being personally rehabilitated by the diplomat himself.
When it comes to traveling off-world, a transport ship is provided. Around nine staff members are present, an advisor, one pilot, one engineer, a doctor, two stewards, one councilor, and two Mediators. (Personal bodyguards armored with non-pain-inducing and non-lethal weapons/devices.)
Talents:
A common trait most Mici possess are lesser psychic powers. While not advanced enough to peer into a person’s thoughts for most, they can easily sense another’s emotions. Despite not being a full-blown telepath, Abbitt can be quick to see a hidden agenda to anyone he speaks with in person, which has made him rather gifted in telling when someone is lying in conversation.
With some training in piloting, Abbitt is very familiar with operating starships and other kinds of stellar craft, as well as some technical education.
Like all male Mici, Abbitt also holds an incredible amount of physical strength, whereas females are speedsters, enough to lift a grown, two-hundred-pound man off the ground. Such an ability is only ever used in emergencies or when necessary.
~Other Muses~
Revei:
The only recorded case of a Mici capable of committing actual violence, and the ability to kill. Revei is a vigilante that travels across the galaxy and actively hunts down traffickers/slave traders, culling them without remorse before freeing any captives he comes across. He's well-versed in using his psychic abilities for combat, including telekinesis, and able to inflict terrible nightmares upon his opponents at well, even while they're wide awake. Many people have granted him the nickname: The White Reaper.
Long ago, a female Mici attempted to flee back to their homeworld with her child, only to be caught by slavers. In a small compound, they performed a series of horrid experiments on her in a separate room. Having heard agonizing the cries from his mother, Revei forced his way out of a cell and immediately came to where they had her pinned, just as the men walked out for a short time. It was there where she had her last moments, and her son balling his eyes out, begging her not to go since those traffickers had fatally wounded her from their experiments.
When he final breath was taken, she died right in his arms... Seconds later, one of the staff responsible for her injuries, hollering and screaming at him to get back in his cell. Something within him snapped, taking a scalpal before using it to destroy the man's face. A weapon was taken off a guard to begin massacring every, last, staff member on-site, not a soul was spared. A shuttle they used for their slave trade operation was stolen to make his escape.
While all Mici tend to have a psychic aura that induces a sweet, fuzzy feeling, Revei does not possess that quality. Instead, there is a turbulent, unsettling feeling that one may receive from being in close proximity to him. Sleeping next to him at night has a high chance of someone having his nightmares enter their dreams, a problem that he cannot control. This issue has unsurprisingly made it difficult for him to make any close friends, or find a mate. For this reason, Revei will try to avoid emotional attachments.
Unknown to most, being what many call a Blighted Mici, he is immortal. While he can still be killed, he cannot age to death. Revei is fifty-plus years old.
Comments
“Strap in, Ketos, we’re approaching the city now.” the Kathari half-breed said, gesturing for his companion to brace itself as the Aspasia prepared for landing at their allotted destination. She was an older ship and thus a bit twitchy when switching over from interstellar to atmospheric flight mode. The ship began to rattle as the interstellar jump drives powered down and allowed the ship to exit the jump, though its captain did not seem concerned at all. He knew the ship well enough to know that this was completely normal and nothing to get worried about. His companion, Ketos, on the other hand; a vaguely humanoid reptilian with no discernible ocular features, a mouth full of jagged teeth, and a slender “malnourished” body with an exceptionally long and agile tail, was not particularly fond of the ship’s unnerving rattle. Perhaps, Ketos showed concern because it had no way of actually seeing what was happening precisely. Although equipped with photo-receptors underneath the skin, they merely detected the shadowy outline of movements interrupting the light. It primarily relied on smell and vibrations in order to detect its surroundings. The sudden rattling of the ship essentially would’ve made every detail of the ship visible to the reptilian, likely causing a form of sensory overload. That being said, at the end of the day it was completely harmless and only served as a mild inconvenience.
Exiting the interstellar jump caused the surrounding space to seemingly warp and fold in on itself as the ship was violently flung into existence. Faster-than-light speeds had a tendency to cause visual anomalies due to the very nature of the physics involved. Flying an older ship model through interstellar jumps usually caused much more violently anomalous displays of space warping. Despite being an older ship and seemingly being bent into existence, the ship made no concerning sounds. No creaking, no cracking, nothing. The Aspasia may have been old, but she was certainly more than reliable.
As the ship approached the chandelier-like city structure, Orinn put the vessel in landing mode, extending the landing gears and deactivating the turrets. After the ship had landed and he’d registered over the coms, he rose from his captain’s chair and made his way to the armoury. There, he’d put on his vest which had rows of grenades along the straps meant as a last-minute contingency when necessary. He’d then attach a large gun on his back, which probably weighed almost as much as Orinn himself. The gun had a fairly unique design, most likely a makeshift design built by spare pieces. The barrel itself had a very wide diameter, probably made by old tubing. The magazine of the weapon was unusually large and circular in shape, sitting on the top of the weapon. The custom-built grenade launcher reached a length of over 120 centimetres, which didn’t leave a lot of room between it and the ground, given Orinn’s mere 170-centimeter height. Along with the massive weapon, he also attached a couple of rusted red canisters to a belt that he wrapped around his hips and waist. The belt came equipped with a holster for a hand-held blaster pistol. After he’d decked himself out, he grabbed one final item; a whip-like object of indiscernible purpose. Then he exited the armoury and made his way out of the retro-fitted former cargo vessel, by way of a loading bay elevator at the aft section of the ship, with Ketos in tow.
The feline humanoid was not a big fan of large city-scapes such as this, preferring smaller asteroid mining colonies and other such backwater locals. But money is money and he was certainly curious about the mission that laid before him. As he wandered the streets, constant attention was drawn to him due to his unusual appearance. Some people simply glanced at him in passing, trying to avoid making a scene, whereas others would stop entirely in their tracks to look. Kathari were unusual on their own, but a Kathari-Human hybrid was relatively unheard of. Although he’d been born with the signature horns and hair quality of the Kathari, his skin was relatively hairless, especially compared to a true Kathari. All Orinn could do was nod his head and give a little wave or a wink to some. He was well aware of the attention he drew, but he made the most of it by masquerading as a charming traveller and alluring scoundrel. Despite having an unusual appearance, there were still a fairly large number of people who found him quite attractive - likely due to the fact that he had such an unusual appearance. But this was no time to share stories to a curious crowd, or pick up a bed companion at a local bar, no, he was here on a mission. At least, most likely. There’d of course been missions he’d denied in the past as they went against his integrity, but they were quite rare and far in between. That being said, he was no stranger to death and destruction so although he cared about his integrity, one would still do well to question his moral compass.
He’d been walking for some time through the streets or corridors, trying to avoid drawing too much attention to himself - a mission he’d fail spectacularly at most of the time. After having made a few wrong turns and having to retrace his steps he finally reached a location that matched the description he’d been given and, Ah, there it was, the Inn where he was supposed to meet up with his temporary employer. He wasn’t quite sure who exactly he was looking for, a detail that he often neglected to memorise. Why should he remember a person whom he’d see maybe just a couple of times when the details of the job and location were so much more important? That being said, he was pretty sure that he was looking for someone who wasn’t human. Either way, he wasn’t one to seek his employers most of the time. He had them come to him so as to avoid any potential backstabbing or ambushes. People couldn’t be trusted, Hel knows, he himself could not always be trusted and he was well aware of that fact. Even so, he had a reputation of always fulfilling his jobs one way or another which left his commissioners mostly satisfied in the end. As he entered the Inn, he briefly scanned the room before heading straight through the Lobby and leaned against the wall next to the reception desk where he’d wait to either be approached or asked to go to a more specific spot. Regardless, he wasn’t difficult to spot given his heritage, so anyone who was looking to hire him would probably spot him right away.
(Thanks for accepting my friend request!)
Need to pet little plush toy...
Squishy squishy
( *¯ ³¯*)
I am. :)
Kyrah took the little pellet-shaped device Abbitt handed to her, her curiosity very much peaked at the prospect of an unknown, safe, world. She did not have a true need to go there, but...it could be an interesting adventure. The lycan's life had been lacking some excitement as of late. As she rolled the device between her index finger and thumb, she pursed her lips in thought.
"I think...I'd like to go." She closed her fingers around the communicator, looking back down to Abbitt with a faint smile. "How do we get there?"
The she-wolf looked down in surprise when the Mici made himself comfortable on her lap, even going so far as to wrap his little arms around her in a hug. Normally, Kyrah wouldn't allow such a thing to happen - she truly was not a fan of physical touch, but for whatever reason this hug felt comforting. After a moment of deliberation she let it happen, but did not return the favor out of her own outdated stubbornness. Listening to him speak, her head tilted to the side in curiosity.
"A safe-haven?' She repeated as a question, intrigue in her tone. "I haven't been targeted by humans for a long time; I blend in quite well...except my eyes." She looked down at Abbitt, showcasing her bright blue eyes that seemed to have a faint glow to them. To a regular human they might pass as colored contacts, but if the right creature saw them it was likely they'd know that was not the case.
Feeling like it was safe enough to do so, Kyrah lowered herself further until she sat cross-legged on the ground in front of Abbitt. She propped herself up on her hands, shaking her head lightly at the other's question.
"I'm not human," she replied, and then leaned in to whisper: "I'm a werewolf." To put on a little show for Abbitt, she flashed him a smile as her top and bottom canines grew to about an inch long, coming to a sharp point at the ends. They were gone as quickly as they'd come though, so as not to spook the creature too much. "Oh, I don't think you want to see what's inside my head." She said it lightheartedly, but it was true; there was a lot of damage up there.
Kyrah had seen many a creature in her day - she even used to dwell with dragons and other mythical creatures...but she had never encountered such a creature as Abbitt standing before her. When he opened his cloak to reveal the multiple medallions hidden on the inside, her eyebrows twitched up in surprise. Impressive.
She held her hand out to him with a grin, replying: "It's nice to meet you. My name is Kyrah."
A light giggle escaped from the lycan's lips in response to the other's squeak of delight. Her curiosity was only more peaked when she felt something...warm. Perhaps even a fuzzy feeling inside. She knelt down to the creature's level, her smile unwavering. "Perhaps we should start with introductions." Kyrah, as it turned out, was not much of a hugger...but if she did happen to make an exception, the Mici would be at the top of her list.
"What's your name?"
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