They deemed him The Raven.
As swift as the blooming feather,
As lethal as the claw,
As brutal as the flight.
Absent of mercy.
Unseen in the darkest of nights.
Beware the Raven, the Irish Fiend,
Beware his talons and claws,
Beware his protruding beak of vehemence,
Beware his frightening stare of obscurity.
The Obscurity only provokes the Opaqueness of his entirety.
Trust him, one must not.
Name Pronunciation: PO-EH-ME-IS -- JOE-SEF -- SO-EH-LEE-IS
Name's meaning: Poems of Souls, Soul of Poems
Aliases: The Raven; The Bloody Irish; The Hunter of Bounties; The Nightmarish Fiend
Defined Interval of Age: 40 and growing
Natural Category: Enhanced Human
Prominent Altitude: 6'3
Corporal Density: 189 pounds
Type of Red Cells: O Negative
Employment: Smuggler and Bounty Hunter
Lineage: Procreators are unknown
Interrelationship: Currently available.
Interests: No one.
Sexual Guidance: Heterosexual
Generation of Descendants: None.
Dwelling: Personal Ship (Freighter)
Current Location: Abroad and constantly moving.
Current Time: 31st Century (3021)
Poemius always wears the same clothing (which he regularly washes) no matter the occasion beacuse of its utility and because of the emotional attachment he holds for it. To settle the basics of the attire, it forms up of heavy-duty, black, polished boots equipped with hardened straps and normal shoelaces. For his other, low extremities, he sports very efficient and durable, black pants made up of various strengthened fibers. On his left leg, by his patella, a steel, obscure knee-guard reinforced with curved alluminium is present; it also acts as a flexible band to ease joint movement. Noticeably, he also holds weaponry in his legs, with two being on his right--right handed man--and one being on his left.
For his upper body clothing, he uses a resistent, black jacket that covers up all of his skin, along with some gloves that expose only a quarter of it. Under this jacket, a simple t-shirt is placed for added comfort and protection, since it is padded with body armor in case a bullet has the lucky factor of attempting to go through him. Behind him, on his right shoulder, is a small shoulderblade-guard that also stabilizes his aim during episodic tremors.
F I G U R E
Hair Pigmentation: Black
Eye Coloration: Light Grey
Skin intonation: Type Two White (Fitzpatrick Chart)
Overall Percentage of Toned Musculature: 68%
Distinct Cicatrices: None, so far.
Status of Facial Hair: Grown; tempted to shave.
Current Status of Mane: Fully grown, long hair, reaching the start of his neck and surronding the sides of his cranium.
I'm an Old Man, an Old Space Man.
P E R S O N A L I T Y
Outlook and Behavior...... Captivating
Approach and Behavior...... Bitter and Gently Brusque
Social Abilities.... Introverted, Reserved and Confidential
Attitude towards others.... Militaristic and Hard-headed
Temperament..... Audacious and Adventorous
Physical and Mental Prowess.....Vigilant and Agile
Outlook to Life.... Grift-stricken
Emotional Status.... Constrained and Passionate
View of Life.... Tactful and Cautious
Manners.... Civilized and Dignified (properly courteous)
Mental Acuity.... Analytical, Sagacious and Articulate
General Abilities....Ambidextrous and Skillful
Level of Maturity.....All-knowing and Composed
Moral Status.... Conventional and Opportunistic
Way with people..... Bitter, Quiescent and Frightful
You can say I'm a bitter-sweet man. I'm hard to break. I decide who to be nice with. It is not the same with all.
I simply went on with it, y'know, just to get along with everyone on board the Capital Ship known as The Devastator, because on a ship like that, you didn't want to have a bad reputation.
Men had these swollen eye-sockets, bloodshot hues and no hair on their heads.
Marines, they called them, Space Marines, to be exact.
I never enlisted and I never planned to.
I wouldn't go to Space alone.
U N I V E R S E - I T S H I S T O R Y
Poemius Soulius was born on July 23rd, 2981, to unknown procreators in the Galaxy of Nebulas, in the star system of Eunon. The planet where Poemius was born in, now destroyed and forgotten, was Terrain, a planet with similar characteristics as that of Earth's in The Milky Way galaxy, which is far from the Galaxy of Nebulas. Because of Terrain's destruction, Poemius was sent away at an early age (one), along with other males and females, to a distant satellite station in the Galaxy, known as the ORB Space Station of Mechanical Operations. In this space station, Poemius was raised by soldiers and by the military of the time, starting off as a cadet by the age of ten, where he was obligated to exercise, be on a diet, practice his shooting skills and practice his zero-G abilities.
Life in the space station wasn't as hard for Poemius as one would imagine because he was never shown another type of living other than of what he had. Due to this, he adapted to it with ease, showed no denial and went on with his life. By the age of twenty-one, already an adult, Poemius had the rank of a Lieutenant with incredible, physical characteristics and capabilities as well. He was to be in the military, but in an attack against the space station, he was divided from everyone else when they were all ordered to escape in ejection pods.
Traveling through space, all alone in the pod, Poemius found himself without any kind of available hope, destined to die of starvation and dehydration, and perhaps isolation, too. Although, when all confidence was lost, his pod stumbled upon The Devastator capital ship. He was then picked up, saved and taken care of y the military, since the ship did belong to the organization of ORB. He was offered a job, but he refused. With a sanction, he was permitted to be removed of his rank with an honorable discharge and was allowed to continue his life as a normal civilian in The Devastator. He persistently trained himself, educated himself and built up his knowledge with reading in his pastimes.
Of the age of thirty, he left The Devastator and commenced a new life in another planet, in a different Galaxy, the Galaxy of Perian, in the planet of Nocturne, in the city of Darken I, where he worked as a trader with an organization until he was offered dirty work and accepted. The tasks involved disposing of unwanted costumers, mainly, which granted Poemius a noble reputation alongside all the other criminals. He became to be known as a bounty hunter with exceptional skills and methods of execution. Soon enough, he became a man of money and commerce and bought himself a freighter named The Poetic Soulier, which he used for smuggling, transportation and also bounty hunting.
At the age of forty, Poemius remains the same, with more skill, more dexterity and more intelligence, doing what he does best, his own fun.
'Tis only but a legend.
Some say and state that it is only a myth, the creation of ravens, of the fiends of birds that lurk in the midst of the time, from whence the intervals protrude from instances of dignity and chaos, unbroken, yet shattered by the great. There, he who stands, will be faced and confronted by The Raven, the Hunter of the Haunted, the Defying Planterian of the Fallen, the Illustruous Monster of the Night, of Eyes that devour and singe the weakest and the lesser.
He, The Raven, claims its preys, and they all pray for repentance, not for their release, but for his return, for he who seeks mercy seeks also a death of sorrow, by the talons of a Raven, The Raven, the masked thief of the sorrowing, of the following, of the killing, and of the eternal boundary that bonds the restless with the ever-waking. He leaps for the unknown, for that leap of fate, of the faith that draws him to believe in the beliefs of his own beliefs, of those sharpened appendages of shattering concerns that leak the ounces of blood, skidding from the very release of its tips, onto the smoldering, scorching snow of the ground, on where he perches, lightly, observing the passing allies, when it reality no allies exist or co-exist in his own existence, for he is a loner, a lone, feathered beast, seeking life on its own very terms of prejudice and bias.
He is the Murderer of Crows, The Murder of Ravens, the Commencement of the Recommencement, The Nightmarish Fiend ...
He is Poemius Soulius.
It is only a myth that he is the wielder of feathers of black.
It is a myth, a detested impression, that he is who The Raven is.
He is the Summoner of Ravens.
It is an art, the Art of Justified Murder.
As a kitten, I found her lying about the alleyways of Terra I, a city located in the planet Saurion, just by the center of galaxy. She was alone, without any food and without any water. I approached her, she didn't attack, nor hiss, but instead looked up at me with those two hues of hers--The Sun and the Ocean. I didn't exactly like her at first, nor the idea of taking care of a kitten, but it all quite changed with time. Bonding wasn't a problem because she was always around the spacecraft wherever I went inside of it. If I went to check the engines manually, she was there, on my tail; if I went to sleep, there she was over my chest purring her way to sleep; if I was test firing in the cafeteria a laser-based pistol, there she was following around the non-deadly laser, attempting to catch it. Her playful nature never got me tired. I didn't have to clean her up or her 'business', and everytime I had to dump the litter box I simply sent it through the trash chute and into space. She grew fast, too fast, but never changed her personality or her behavior with me.
Once she did grow, though, she became fierce and determined with everything I had going on. Once time, she didn't let me go into a planet by meowing at me each I pressed the gear module to deploy the landing platforms. Little did I know, once I scanned the area of landing, a whole squad of men were waiting for me with an unpleasant surprise. I don't know HOW she knew, or what made me believe she knew, but it definitely saved me... I've never taken her out for a bounty hunt, and I never want to, but if the time comes, I probably will.
She broke that manly standard I had to keep.
Hurt my cat and I'll absolutely hurt you.
Once I saw Her, it was like falling in-love at first sight...all over again.
The Poetic Soulier is a capable ship utilized mainly for cargo-holding and transportation.Its cargo bay is sufficiently ample for the access of many objects, vehicles, storage units and other materials. Poemius will always be carrying weaponry, vehicles of war, medical supplies and alimentary supplies. Each transportation of goods grants Poemius a handsome income of at least CTM 10,000, and the most he has gotten has been CTM 50,000 for harboring sexual slaves and transporting them from one planet to another, although he refuses to confirm this and wishes to never speak about it.
It was a job.
The spacecraft is heavily defended with armored plates that are thicker than that of a tank. It is a bulky machine, slow but steady. Additionally, besides its sluggish appearance, it is able to travel at light-speed thanks to its Interstellar Travel module, allowing the apparatus to obtain a speed of 299,792,458 m/s within seconds of activation. It is equipped with two, defensive modules under its hull and by its front. They are rarely used, but when the need to combat is present, they are put into good use.
In the case of an emergency, the whole command module, or the main cockpit, where most of the ship's controlling is managed, can be ejected from the entire spacecraft. To allow this, Poemius must first enable 'Emergency Mode.' Afterwards, the command module is ejected aside and can operate on its own with its seperate thrusters.While it is a spacecraft intended for the presence of five members (one being Poemius), the other four members are substituted by A.I Administered Computers which take care of the Communications, Engines, Sensors, Defensive Modules and the overall maintenance of the shuttle. This is due to the fact that he prefers to work alone.
Primary Focus ............................
Secondary Focus ............................
Maximum Crew ............................
Standalone Price ............................
Mass (empty) ............................
Cargo Capacity ............................
Upgrade Capacity ............................
Max Power Plant Size ............................
Main Thrusters ............................
Maneuvering Thrusters ............................
Max Shield ............................
Areas of the Spacecraft:
Main Piloting Bay
Communication and Sensor Station .................
Operates Sensors and manages Comms
Forward Navigation Module .......
Designed to manipulate coordinates and to ease travels
Crew Bunks and Main Gallery .......
Sleeping Quarters for Absent Crew
Auxiliary Engine Control .............
Maintains Engines and Regulates them.
EMP-21 Assault Rifle: Effective against any type of technology-based operative. Uses projectiles infused with EMP emitters.
EMP-0Z Grenade: Causes an explosion; Effective against technology.
Ballistic Sniper Rifle: A bolt action, projectile-only rifle with a x64 scope for long range engagements.
Electromagnetic Submachinegun: Its cartridge consists of 2mm EC projectiles, although they aren't concrete or solid, but an electromagnetic pulse, acting as a fast-firing rail-gun.
CM-21 PDW: Standard PDW with ballistic ammunition only, generally silenced for covert operations/bounties.
EZ-100 Combat Blade: An extendable dagger that has the ability of transforming itself into a prolonged sword of exactly two feet. Its sheet of steel is of the sharpest in existence.
Wrist-mounted, retractable grappling hook: Utilized mainly to gain height, pull enemies nearer, and so on.
Back-mounted, high-energy jet-pack: Normally, it is unequipped and only used when it is required for the extra mobility and enhancement.
Wrist-mounted Communicator (PDA): A device attached to his wrist that displays all of his important information.
Wrong decisions brought me into a world of pain.
I didn't know any better.
With the right amount of CTM, any job is possible.
Professing the Profession.
With years in the making, in the development, came to rise a man of youth, denied by all, forgotten by many, yet he had slowly (already) triumped behind their knowledge as a Victor of Death.
The old man, sought by others for guidance and training, is highly-trained murderer, licensed by his deceased or far away leaders. Patience is what grants him the blood of his rivals, adversaries and known nemesises. As a highly professional and educated bounty hunter, armed (internally) to the teeth, porting the venoms of chaos and murder in the prickles of his veins with the sole intention of devouring the unworthy, when there's a coin over their heads, he fashions the ideals of converting blood into capital. Hesitation is an irrecognizable abstract in the mind of this hunter of bounties; once settled on a head, the head shall be severed and delivered as the most exquisite trophies of all.
The Umblemised Killer.
As part of his philosophy, Poemius, with every, singular kill, practices the doctrine of immaculate termination, performing, on the bodies of his enemies, the most minimal wounds and injuries by the aid of his blades or firearms. The spill of unnecessary blood is often unfavored by the Ol' Irish, not because of the possible, assumed nausea, but due to the simplistic fact that he prefers it as an art without the need of turmoil. Therefore, due to this personal dogma, a surreptitious throat-slit is preferred over a direct confrontation, and a sniper's shot is endorsed over that of a drizzle of projectiles. An inclination of the old man, also, is to stare into the eyes of his victims as he perforates them with his will.
Let it be the dagger of the man across the skull of another.
Let it be the silenced bullet from the muzzle of a rifle.
Let it be the ultimate fall from the toppest of buldings.
Let it be Death itself.
Let it be The Raven.
C R E W M E M B E R S
T I F A L O C K H A R T
THE JACK O' ALL TRADES
"Ah, aye, that there is Ms. Tits and she's my top crewmember."
I met 'er on some rock called Gaea in the city of Midgar. That place was a fockin' slum, but she had a nice bar and I was in need of a good drink. I wasn't lookin' currently for crewmembers, but she sparked in me this unique sense of adventure because of her vivacious, young deportment, really. So, naturally, after a drunk night of conversation, I offered her employment aboard the Soulier, just to see if she bit on the bait. It took 'er a day before she finally accepted it and mentally signed the contract she'd be attached to for at least one-hundred trips. She was anxious for exploration, for a journey that would just take 'er far, far away from the desert she lived in. I sure as hell don't regret hirin' 'er. She's proven to be quite the proficient crewmember, if I were to be honest.
T ' C H A K U N K U T
Now, this guy, man, you don't want to upset him. I met him on Tera XII, also at a bar, just sitting in a corner surrounded by whores and whores, drinking out of a fockin' cauldron. Guy's huge, strong and mean-lookin', but he don't speak, which is a plus and a negative thing, if you ask me. He does most of the hauling around the cargo bay, which is all I need, but he's also a good hand to have on the field. I had to adjust the fockin' sleeping quarters just to get him aboard. I don't regret a single thing about hiring him. He sure is a great asset to have, no doubt.
Friendly Reminders and Rules:
Friendly Reminders: (Written on 1/5/2016) (Updated on 9/18/2018)
- This character is an Original Character, made by me, living within the 'Star Citizen' universe. Steal this character and you shall be reported.
- All ships belong to 'Star Citizen.'
- FC is Rodolfo Sancho.
- Maximum of 5-10 roleplays. I will not accept invites after limit is reached. However, I may delete inactive roleplays or boring roleplays.
- I, sometimes, delete without a reason, a notice or a warning. Don't take it personally.
- This character is relatively new for me. I plan on having him change many times, but what you see right now, integrated, will not change.
- I can adapt to any type of setting, timeline, etcetera, regardless of Poemius' original timeline. Time travel will be used, depending on a variety of circumstances. I'm very flexibile with roleplays.
- All pictures and .gifs do not belong to me, except the Insignia of Poe Soulius, which I made myself.
Rules: (Written on 1/5/2016) (Updated on 9/18/2018)
- Rated NC-17 and A (18+) --> Roleplays are 18+ due to excess violence, gore, macabre subjects, use of lanaguage, use of narcotics, sexual themes, sexual occurrences, and so on.
- No Unnecessary Smut --> I do not accept the apparition of mindless and needless sexual intercourse. Sexual actions will only take place in serious and predetermined roleplays, exclusively having a relation with the main plot of the play.
- Novella-Style, Paragraph-Style, Descriptive-Style, Complex Vocabulary-style --> I provide players with increased amount of details, prolonged paragraphs, prolonged sentences, complicated words (bring a dictionary) and many other things.
- No Tolerance for Drama --> I do not tolerate due to obvious reasons. I am here to increase my knowledge in writing, to entertain myself, to cultivate new ideas and to, overall, have fun with you all.. First sight of it and you'll be unfriended.
- I Promote Realism --> My writing style bolsters realism, which includes all themes in the NC-17 and A (18+) rating, and much more. If allowed, immortality is disabled in the roleplays.
- I Promote Equality --> I deliver what I receive. Send me three-hundred words, I'll deliver, more or less, the same thing. However, send me a one-liner, and I won't reply.