10-26-2015, 03:18 AM
Name: Deimos
Age: Appears in his early to mid twenties, but is centuries old
Race: Valaurian, a humanoid like race that mostly resemble humans, but the scleras of their eyes are pitch black and their irises glow to the color of their natural tint. In Deimos's case, they look neon dark green.
Description: slim but buff, black hair that's long and curly, but sleeked back mostly into a band , medium olive skin, tall. Underneath his human body lies a much gruesome beastly form, one the crew would soon realize a little too late on.
He laid in a bed, shirtless, watching everything through a screen. By everything, he was selectively viewing various people on the human ship. By account, they all now belonged to his race now, a shady deal done by their own kind, but the eighth prince in line liked to explore his assets and see what was suited to his interests. Of course they had given him a chosen candidate already.
"Why...?" He found himself saying as he eyed the apparent captain. He was small, possibly puny, his age told off on him...Was it hard to ask for better? To him, the man...no...boy...seemed a bit...inadequate, yet he would still have to see if appearances were just deceiving. "My family will get a kick out of this one..."
He rolled out the bed and began to put a thin layer of weave synthetics on his body. He never preferred wearing heavy armaments as honestly, his race didn't need it. They could take on most damage and heal effortlessly. It didn't mean they didn't have a few issues on repopulating, which is why they turned to the most flexible creatures made for breeding in existence: Humans. At least they were good for something other than cannon fodder.
He stepped out his room and took his seat at the station's commanding chair. The humans would be arriving at the Valaurian's post operating station soon, a place where trades and other diplomatic policies were made at, one of the numerous stations they had. Presently, he was underwhelmed, but could beggars be choosers?
Age: Appears in his early to mid twenties, but is centuries old
Race: Valaurian, a humanoid like race that mostly resemble humans, but the scleras of their eyes are pitch black and their irises glow to the color of their natural tint. In Deimos's case, they look neon dark green.
Description: slim but buff, black hair that's long and curly, but sleeked back mostly into a band , medium olive skin, tall. Underneath his human body lies a much gruesome beastly form, one the crew would soon realize a little too late on.
He laid in a bed, shirtless, watching everything through a screen. By everything, he was selectively viewing various people on the human ship. By account, they all now belonged to his race now, a shady deal done by their own kind, but the eighth prince in line liked to explore his assets and see what was suited to his interests. Of course they had given him a chosen candidate already.
"Why...?" He found himself saying as he eyed the apparent captain. He was small, possibly puny, his age told off on him...Was it hard to ask for better? To him, the man...no...boy...seemed a bit...inadequate, yet he would still have to see if appearances were just deceiving. "My family will get a kick out of this one..."
He rolled out the bed and began to put a thin layer of weave synthetics on his body. He never preferred wearing heavy armaments as honestly, his race didn't need it. They could take on most damage and heal effortlessly. It didn't mean they didn't have a few issues on repopulating, which is why they turned to the most flexible creatures made for breeding in existence: Humans. At least they were good for something other than cannon fodder.
He stepped out his room and took his seat at the station's commanding chair. The humans would be arriving at the Valaurian's post operating station soon, a place where trades and other diplomatic policies were made at, one of the numerous stations they had. Presently, he was underwhelmed, but could beggars be choosers?