Striktor, undead alien pirate.

Striktor · Wed Dec 07, 2011 9:48 pm

Name: Striktor (Does not use his real name very often).
Type: Undead humanoid alien/nanotech hybrid
Place of Birth: Not on record
Gender: Male

Age: 431 Earth years (approx.). Has spent much of it in stasis, though.
Height: 235 cm
Weight: 90 kg (he is thin!)
[b]Eye Colour: Hollow eyes sockets
Skin Colour:[/b] Bone white.
Skin Texture: Dry

Body Build: Humanoid, but almost like a skeleton.

Tentacles? He can form tentacles at will. This will pierce his skin (which will eventually regrow). The tentacles are black and shiny. Usually they protrude from his chest or back.
Number of Tentacles: Up to 8, as needed.

Cock Size: 11 inches. Due to subdermal plates, they look kind of jointed and spine shaped. The plates are quite flexible though, so the cock is less dangerous than it looks like. It is still pretty huge, though..
# of Cocks: 1
Fighting Style: When chasing unarmed females, he does not usually use any weapons, relying upon speed, strength and reach, as well as sheer terror.
If expecting an armed opponent, he will usually employ a scythe blade or his twin guns.

Psychological Profile: Striktor is best described as being an extremely alienated being. He has been transformed by nano-bots, died horribly, been dead for more than a human lifetime, his consciousness hovering on the edge of sweet oblivion, then been kick-started into something resembling life again.

You may something has been lost in translation.

He is feeling empty, his earlier feelings and ambitions somewhat dulled, his past life like something that happened to something else, like a movie he has seen played through, but not taken part in.

He finds that ravaging females fills some sort of emotional void in him. It is not so that he is a psychic vampire, draining strength from them in any way, but their reactions seems to inspire something inside him, give him an emotional fix he desperately craves.

He enjoys the whole spectrum of their emotions. Angry defiance, terror, surrender to unwanted bliss. The heady mix of pleasure, fear, pain and ecstasy, all is like a fine smorgasbord to him.

Personality: When alive, he was passionate, greedy, sometimes cruel, sometimes generous, and at times reckless in his pursuit of wealth and adventure.
Now he is colder, more calculating, more distant.. But when something inspires him, he can be relentless and even obsessive.

Clothing: Usually does not bother, but does wear a read head cloth, and a few bits and pieces of his old armour.
Special Attributes:
Striktor has several abilities that might be described as special, some from his time as a living being, some from the nanites inside him.

*Strength: Striktor is very strong, much stronger than his lean frame would suggest. While a bulky, powerful individual in life, he is now much thinner,but his remaining musculature has been strengthened by the nanites. He does not quite know his limits yet, but he can lift up towards one ton.

*Speed: While Striktor can appear to be unbalanced, staggering and slow at times, this is a ruse. Due to his long legs, strength and tireless stamina, he can run down most humans while appearing to be just striding.

*Tentacles: Striktor has several tentacles underneath his skin. These can burst forth. They are strong, flexible and have keen tactile sense. They are oily black, and seem to be almost liquid while moving.

*Regeneration: Should Striktor suffer any real injury, a black liquid filled with nanites will ooze forth and start repairing him. This is not instantaneous, but one can assume that any injury that does not destroy him he will eventually recover from.

*Low level telepathy: Striktor communicates using a combination of sound and telepathy, making him able to cross most language barriers. This is not strong enough to mind probe a victim, or to communicate over longer distances. The effect can be somewhat scary to someone not used to it, half-garbled, guttural almost-words that somehow still carry a dire meaning. Not that he is very into chit chat or socializing.

*Sixth sense: The nanites inside him seem to be sentient on their own, keeping tabs on things through means of their own. Sometimes they let him in on things he does not know himself. This is mainly a storytelling device, if needed.

*Equipment: See below.

Distinguishing features:
Striktor belonged to a species that was in many ways humanoid, but a bit larger and bulkier than humans. His appearance has changed radically.

His skull is not unlike a human head, but with a somewhat more elongated cranium. The skin over his face and head is thin and tight, giving the impression of a death's head. His eyes are long gone, but the nanites have grown a new set of sensory organs. These are hidden far into the sockets, but does sometimes reflect a little light. He has a long bluish black tongue.

His body is rail thin, despite his great size, and the skin is stretched tight, giving a clear outline of his bones and remaining muscle and sinew. Sometimes, tentacles and tendrils created by the nanites to keep him going can be seen moving beneath the skin.

Striktors skin is pale, almost the colour of old, sun bleached bones. His feet are claw like, almost like a bird. If he has no reason to move, he will stand perfectly still, or lie down, looking much like he is dead, with no vital signs.

Weaknesses: Can be somewhat obsessive once something or someone makes him feel more than his usual emotional coldness. There might be that he is affected by technology designed to counter nano-bots, but this has not yet been tried.
Likes: Living females, their soft skin, warm bodies, their voices when they scream, or beg, or moan.
Dislikes: Living females, teasing him with their soft skin, heaving chest, their voices and they way they by their very being mock him for being a re-animated corpse.

History: The ship was doomed. Striktor felt much calmer once he realized this. The damage was severe. Ironically, the vessel actually had been through worse, and under better circumstances, it would have been a matter of time before it was fully operational. A matter of time, yes, but time they did not have. Or at least his crew did not.

The life support system was damaged. Fixable, certainly, but that would take time. The hull had suffered one or more breaches. Tiny ones, but big enough that the pressure was dropping rapidly. The cooling system in the main engine had taken a hit, and radioactive, super hot vapour was escaping into the rest of the ship. Two of his men had died in a heat blast, foolishly trying to get into the engine room, panic making them disregard safety.

A few others had tried to don space suits and escape through the air locks. Idiots. The bounty hunters were not paid to take anyone alive. They would die slowly, drifting in space. The rest would likely die inside the ship in a few minutes, just quick enough to miss the ships disastrous entry into the atmosphere of the planet bellow.

That is, most of them, but perhaps not Striktor himself. After they had finished looting the hidden space station last year, his crew had been most surprised by his generosity, dividing his share among his men, keeping only one minor artefact for himself.

Personally, he thought he might have stiffened them. The little container held a secret inside it, a secret he had pursued so long he had almost given it up for a myth. A substance created by an elusive species, with advanced knowledge centuries ahead of most others. The secret of eternal life.

Well, at least as close as one can get. No-one lives forever, the second law of thermodynamics will get you if nothing else will. And besides, the effect was expected to be drastic, there was no guarantee the user would survive. This was a good time to test it.

Striktor had hesitated a little, then opened the little box, taking out the glass cylinder therein. The liquid was black, like thick oil. He had already examined it with a microscope. Tiny almost-living crystal constructs floated in the murky liquid. Nano-bots, assembled from molecules he could not recognize, carefully engineered to work miracles, patiently awaiting the chance to fulfil their purpose.

He had snapped of one end of the cylinder, then poured all of the black ooze down his throat. It had tasted little. Now he could feel it working inside him, working their magic. He hoped they would work fast enough. Regardless, the dice had been cast, there was little he could do.

The ship being damaged as it was, there was no way he could guarantee a decent entry into the atmosphere. Beating the groaning, failing engines into submission, the best he could do was to set the ship on a path where the impact would not annihilate the ship. That being done, he consigned himself to his fate, hoping the dice would come up with his number.

They did. The nanites did their job, permeating his body, sampling his DNA, realigning and modifying his body from within. The ship was not destroyed at impact, although the meeting with the ocean was less than merciful. Striktor, somehow kept alive by his nano-machine symbiotes tried swimming out of the ship, barely reaching a nearby island. Then he died.

Although biologically dead, the nanites would not let him perish permanently. As he lay on the ground, gradually being covered by sand, mud and water, he was put in a state of suspended animation, as the little nano-bugs set about to repair and improve him.

Above, things changed. New settlers arrived. The island itself was changed, being overgrown by plants from another world. It was a false landscape, an illusion made by a clever, treacherous species to deceive its own kind. Humans. More arrived, to satisfy the terms of a devious deal. Slave trade, something Striktor himself had dabbled in from time to time.

Once the time was ready, the nanites jump started Striktors system, forcing still brain tissue to once again work. At first he just lay there, hidden under ground. But someone approached.. he could sense it. Soon, sooon..

Equipment:
Some of Striktors old gear is salvageable. This equipment is known to the NICE labs, who has long since detected and analysed his ship. Other equipment might be available later.

*The Broadsword:
A corsair class space ship, capable of atmospheric entry and exit. More details to come, once Striktor has got it up and running.

*Rocket guns: Two large pistols, (in shape not too dissimilar to oversized, chrome plated flintlock pistols). Fire small self propelling grenades. Several types are available, but Striktor's favourite were always the ones that explodes into several sticky threads, prone to snagging and constraining their victim. One variant of the chemical has been know to have an adverse effect on several types of fabric, including ones used in school uniforms, causing them to dissolve over time.

* Scythe blade. Clasped to the forearm, concealing the hand, this large curved blade is viciously sharp, and 130 cm long.

Miscellaneous:
Striktor speculates that he might be able to use is nanites on a freshly killed corpse, reanimating it into a weaker version of himself. He has not done so yet, but if a crew are ever needed for a space scene, this might be possible. If so, we are talking stupid, disposable minions, not a detailed list of NPCs.

Striktor, undead alien pirate.

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