||Imperial Baronet ($25.00)
VE - Stormtrooper Corps
May 11, 2007
February 26, 2014 at
|Number of Posts:
||Name: Alater Osted
Callsign: Alater Osted
Planet of birth: Barab-1
Weight: 150 kg
Scale colour: Jet black
Eye colour: Sky blue
Current Age: 21
Alater Osted was born to a nest of twelve. Like all the others on his planet, Alater was a born Barabel predator. At the age of five cycles he earned much glory by stalking a Durgolosk, and killing it singlehandedly. The Durgolosk is the most feared planet on Baraba 1, standing at almost five times his height of Alater at his then height. Armed with only his natural weapons of claws and teeth Alater followed the creature for almost a complete moon cycle, barelly escaping notice a dozen times. The creature's six eyes and ability to twist itself almost 360 degrees proved to make a stealth kill almost impossible, but all creatures must sleep eventually.
Using the knowledge he had aquired from his father and mother Alater prepared himself, covering his then light green scales with a black mud and waited for the time the creature was vulnerable. In the key time during the month when the creature fell itself asleep, and the perfect hour where daylight and the sun's heavy radiation was beggining to subside, Alater struck. Carefully he climbed the tree hanging above the sleeping creature, and dropped down on it. With his first two swipes he peirced the creature's eyes, blinding it, and began to choke it with his tail. The creature whipped around in agony and managed to slash Alater's tail with one of it's poisonous barbed tentacles, which he quickly dropped off to prevent the paralysing poison from spreading farther. Alater slayed the beast by removing its throat.
When Alater returned home he brought with him much prestige. His victory over the dangerous Durgolosk at such a young age was unheard of, and he had only attempted it to prove to his nestbrother that he could.His next ten cycles passed uneventfully for him. Such things as combat training, participating in clan fueds, and fighting with his cousins were daily activies. During these years he learned of the once reveared Jedi, and clan histories. As he grew older, his scales began to change color. He grew to his full height of 2.3 meters, tall even for his clan, and a weight of 150 kilos. As he grew, he learned of the outside systems, and the peoples of what little his species knew of them, which was almost nothing. He earned his first blade defending against these outsiders.
When a group of slavers came to his village, they were completely unprepared for what they found. Alater, along with his nestbrother and four other males cut through the ten man group like wraiths, their scales protecting them from the relatively weak blasts of the stun weapons, and that was when he learned more of the outsiders. From then Alater was obsessed with the offworlders and the honor he could gain from killing them. Five cycles after his first encounter with the offworlders, Hutt slavers returned, in much larger numbers.
They barraged his village from orbit, and came down to pick up the peices. They were very well prepared, with weapons set with power barely higher than his scales and primative armor could compensate for. The last of his village left standing was Alater, his nestbrother, and their parents. The two elder Barabel died slaying as many slavers as possible, but they were not enough, and Alater and his brother fell unconcious from their wounds.
Upon regaining conciousness Alater discovered his captivity, which he fought for almost four cycles. Eventually Alater earned his freedom by slaying his master in his sleep. For a long time Alater roamed without purpose, before finally finding the IA.
Alater looked up at the red sky and the ever-present red dwarf of a sun that hung above Barab-I. It had been months since the slaver attack on the village, no, his village. Strong Arm they called him now, and wrote stories of his bravery in dispatching the slavers. His Nest Brother, Long Claw he was now called, was also honored highly amungst his clan. The singers wove magnificent tales of battle, four Barabels moving like ghostly figures amongst the Hutt Slavers, their weapons useless against the hardened scales of the Kan-Jar family. Now, sitting on the hard ground of his cave home, he contemplated his future. The blades he had been given, the sword he now carried as Long Fang of his clan, now all weighed heavily upon him. Responsibilty for the Clan and their honor, protecting them from off-worlders and their strange ways, all of these were now his tasks to take.
This is a little side story line to give a little more refernce into Alater's past.
The sun was setting, and the colors in both infared and ultraviolet were magnificent, but seen together they were amazing. Alater was born strange, his eyes allowing him to see what most of his kind could not. His sense and intuition were beyond the scope of all, allowing him to react to things sometimes before they even happened. His size played into his strengths as well, his clan being amongst the largest, and then there was the matter of Alater's scales. All Barabels scales turn black with age and exposure to the radiation of the red dwarf star, but Alater was born a midnight black. With a hiss of stress Alater turned to go back inside to find himself facing an Elder.
"Strong Arm, may your claws remain sharp." The Elder spoke with a slight bow and a twitch of his tail, expressing his disaproval for the traditional meeting and his urgency to speak his peice.
"May your scales remain hard. What is the meening of this Elder Jark? I asked not to be disturbed, and though you are a highly honored member of this Clan, I am still Long Fang here." Alater responded. He didn't mind being bothered, but as Long Fang he had certain rights and honored that needed to be respected, and though an Elder, Jark was still under his protection, and therefor his rule.
"There's a serious problem Long Fang. The Durgolosks are gathering, nearly ten of them are only a tree's length from the edge of our Hunting ground. You must do something about them, before they attack us." Elder Jark finished, and rushed away, and though he was old and skilled, the smell of fear on him was unmistakable. This was a serious matter.
With a blink to clear his eyes, Alater turned and ran inside. Through the extensive network of caves and caverns that the Barabels lived in, Alater ran. His destination was a round room known as the Caller, or Thunderous Voice. Here his mighty roar could be heard through out the entire cave system, and all the Clan would know to gather. Three Barabel Warriors stood inside the room, practicing their blade work with long knifes made of the bones of fallen prey, their clashing blades echoing through the halls made an eerie sound that would hurt most's ears. At the site of him the stopped, bowed, and watched as he climed to the top. Alater's call carried through the caverns like thunder, his roar mighty and long. In a matter of minutes, the males had gathered in the Caller, all prepared for war.
"I have just been told that the Durgolosks are gathering." Alater said, and let the crowd die down before continuing. "So far there are only reports of ten, all at the edge of our Hunting grounds, but by now there may be as many as fifteen. I will need all Hunters with experience in fighting the Beasts. They must not live longer than this night. Like a shadow we must be, slaying them before they bring harm to the Clan. Tonight we strike. We will gather as soon as all is ready. Be proud Kin, tonight we Hunt." Alater said and turned to from the edge to return to his Nest. There his Brother waited for him, sharpening Alater's blades. Alater bowed to him, and took his weapons and the long sword of the Long Fang.
The nights on Barab-I were hard and brutal, but were nothing compared to the days. At night though, the predators came out to Hunt, and on the dangerous home of the Barabels, even the herbavores had claws. The Hunt continued to the far reaches of the clan's territory, to the place were neighboring clans met to argue, give honor gifts, and do battle. Here blood was shed nightly over the honor of every family matter small and large. That was the Barabel way, strength, but not tonight. Tonight they relied on stealth to keep them safe and remain victorious. The Durgolosk is a fearsome creature indeed, standing two to even three times the size of a Barabel, with its six eyes it can see almost 360 degrees, and its ability to twist the neck in almost all directions made up for it. Two long tentacles ended with barbs that would paralyze any creature, and even penetrated the mighty scales of the Barabel. Most Barabel never lived past two encounters with the beasts, but Alater had killed five.
There, in a glen stood twelve of the beasts. Their mighty heads almost large enough to swallow a young Barabel whole, but there was no fear here. Here there was only the smell of death and the slaughter soon to come. Most would not return from this night, but those that did would bring with them the honor of a great kill and protecting their Clan. The creatures lay in a half circle, all half wary in their sleep. The Barabels sorounded them and prepared to strike, all awaiting the call. Alater drew his blade, a sick, curved blade that did more damage coming out that going in. With no more warning than a flare of his nostrils and a rustling of leafs, Alater lept from his place and came down hard on the neck of a Durgolosk.
Immediantly the whole glen burst into commotion. The Durgolosk, though a mighty creature, was still a beast. Its attacks were random and wild compared to the strategic plots made against Clans. The blades of the Barabels, and their claws, proved more than a match for the Durgolosks. As each Barabel sparred against a creature, the battle begun in a complicated dance with death. Alater's prey was fast, but Alater's perch and experience proved too much for the beast. In the expected response the creature lashed out with its tentacles, only to have them dispatched almost before they could be efficiently raised. Next his blade came around the large throat and Alater roared in the Blood Thirst as the creature fell. Before his feet hit the ground Alater was moving, his blades and claws like voids of death, where no life could breach. Here, there, all was death. In pure fury Alater dropped his blades, and stood face to face with the last Durgolosk before tearing its throat out with his claws. Death, all around the glen, only five Barabels remained, but they were all heros, to be honored amungst their clan. Even Alater's Blood Thirst would be forgotten, and tales of his strength would sing through the caverns of his clan forever, or so he thought.
TRP/SGT Alater Osted
/3rdSQD/1PLT/1CMP/1BAT/1REG/VEA/VE/Tadath [EW1] [ES1] [SoH] [[VUA-Eclipse]] [ROC:HW] [AS-6M] [IG] [RoM] [BC] [LoS] [AS-1Y]Si hoc legere scis himium eruditionis habes
- It's true