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This is a story of
A S C E N S I O N
A S C E N S I O N
G e n e r a l - I n f o r m a t i o n
"I’ve always wanted to fly. Not silly space travel. Not on a speeder or a glider or any ship. I have always wanted wings that could carry me through the air like the doves and the pigeons in the sky. They're reviled as nothing but scum to be exterminated lest they infest and overrun; yet I used to envy them."
-Antellus
Name: <Antellus Kross>
Pronunciation: <Ahn-tell-uhs Kross>
Faction: N/A
Caste: N/A
Rank: N/A
Credits: Unregistered Information
Force Sensitive: Yes
Status: Stasis
Pronunciation: <Ahn-tell-uhs Kross>
Faction: N/A
Caste: N/A
Rank: N/A
Credits: Unregistered Information
Force Sensitive: Yes
Status: Stasis
A p p e a r a n c e
"Our luminous solar cannot even hope to mock his grace, nor his glory; and yet it rises every day in the east as if to attempt the shell of a challenge. The sky is blessed with his presence, for he shines like a distant moon, complete with the mystery and haunting beauty. I just wish that I could see him...it for but a moment more."
-Kryjog, Coruscant politician after sighting Antellus.
Species: Formerly human
Age: Unregistered Information
Gender: Androgynous - Former male - Masculine personality
Height: 7'5"
Weight: Unregistered information
Build: Being composed of Cortosis and ultrachrome , his armor body is designed to appear moderately humanoid save for two large wings with feathers which are formed from both Force energy and his armoring.
Eyes: Eyes that were once a pale blue in his human existence grew an almost electrical vibrancy. Little cracks of lighter blue break through the irises as if he had somehow shot lightning from his pupils, and the imprint had remained forever scarred on his corneas.
Hair: He has no hair to speak of. However, prior to becoming imprisoned in his armor, he had wavy brown hair.
Skin: None, though he does maintain some of his original body tissues buried deep within the core of suit.
Distinguishing Marks: His face plate is chiseled into the appearance of a lost youth, a man of almost angelic in its serenity.
Age: Unregistered Information
Gender: Androgynous - Former male - Masculine personality
Height: 7'5"
Weight: Unregistered information
Build: Being composed of Cortosis and ultrachrome , his armor body is designed to appear moderately humanoid save for two large wings with feathers which are formed from both Force energy and his armoring.
Eyes: Eyes that were once a pale blue in his human existence grew an almost electrical vibrancy. Little cracks of lighter blue break through the irises as if he had somehow shot lightning from his pupils, and the imprint had remained forever scarred on his corneas.
Hair: He has no hair to speak of. However, prior to becoming imprisoned in his armor, he had wavy brown hair.
Skin: None, though he does maintain some of his original body tissues buried deep within the core of suit.
Distinguishing Marks: His face plate is chiseled into the appearance of a lost youth, a man of almost angelic in its serenity.
P o w e r
"Are you willing to ascend mortality at the cost of your physical body?"
“I'm willing to give anything for my freedom. Anything."
"To earn your freedom you must first become a slave. A slave to hunger. You will be locked in a cage for eternity, and any sense of humanity you might hold dear will dissipate."
"Will I be able to fly?"
"Do you wish to fly?"
“More than I wish to breathe."
"You will soon cease to breathe, but if you desire you can be taught to fly."
-Antellus and Vyzren
Strength: With armor built specifically to be the weapon of his fellow immortals, Antellus is very strong, able to lift several times his own weight without much effort. It is presumed that some of his strength feats are partially Force supported.
Dexterity: Metalic bulk aside, he is able to deftly and nimbly move about with both the grace of a bird, and the dexterity of a feline. Able to fly as well, he can pick up massive aerial speeds where his land based (Running) speed may lack.
Constitution: Feasting upon the life force of other beings, he only grows ill when he is in need of rejuvenation and has not been able to find a source of sustenance.
Intelligence: Only moderately intelligent, he can pick up most general subjects well; but he is not inclined to think further than he has to. He may learn easily enough, but he doesn't spend a great deal of time in contemplation, study, or using his skills for advanced forms of problem solving.
Wisdom: Generally speaking, he is not very wise.
Charisma: A man of silence, action, and with an often short temper, and a penchant for eating people, he does not often pick up friends.
Force Powers:
Strengths: He is a stalwart survivor.
Weaknesses: Overconfidence, dependence on aerial maneuvering, recklessness.
Dexterity: Metalic bulk aside, he is able to deftly and nimbly move about with both the grace of a bird, and the dexterity of a feline. Able to fly as well, he can pick up massive aerial speeds where his land based (Running) speed may lack.
Constitution: Feasting upon the life force of other beings, he only grows ill when he is in need of rejuvenation and has not been able to find a source of sustenance.
Intelligence: Only moderately intelligent, he can pick up most general subjects well; but he is not inclined to think further than he has to. He may learn easily enough, but he doesn't spend a great deal of time in contemplation, study, or using his skills for advanced forms of problem solving.
Wisdom: Generally speaking, he is not very wise.
Charisma: A man of silence, action, and with an often short temper, and a penchant for eating people, he does not often pick up friends.
Force Powers:
The man has only his instinctual knowledge of a few force powers, the rest of which were taught to him by his mentor when he transitioned from his human body into the armor that now consumes him. He has a firm grasp on absorbing living and non-living energies, much like Force Absorb, but on a finer scale. He also has innate abilities somewhat equivalent to: Battlemind, Force Valor, and Force Speed.
Weapon and Fighting Style: Two large blades made of ultrachrome and imbued with Force energies are part of his suit and can pop out when he needs them for battle. His fighting style is very direct, involving a great deal of martial and aerial combat.Strengths: He is a stalwart survivor.
Weaknesses: Overconfidence, dependence on aerial maneuvering, recklessness.
P e r s o n a l i t y
"Do you fear death?"
"I'm dead as it is; why should I fear a word that is nothing but a label. Like cripple”
"Death is more than a state of being; it is a state of mind. When you give in to it then you are truly dead. I ask again, do you fear death?"
"I do. I fear being imprisoned. I fear the unknown, so yes. I fear death."
-Antellus and Vyzren
In his human life, Antellus was a troubled soul, something that was evident even when he joined his planet's home defenses; given his often perilous adventures. Some would have classified him as an adrenaline junkie, enjoying the thrill of near death experiences over safety. As such, in his current form, he is the kind to always be on the go. Though he fears becoming a mindless automaton at times; he doesn't allow that to cloud his ability to hunt his prey. If anything, his fears fuel his need to constantly rejuvenate himself. A hedonist to dangerous extremes, his greed is as evident as his near sociopathy.
Able to easily appear personable and kind when he believes that he can gain something from it; his attempts at charm are often overruled by barely controlled rage issues and a just beneath the surface impatience. His drives are simple. He wishes to keep himself alive, which means that he is always hunting for sustenance for both he and the only ones that he considers to be his equals. Considering himself to be nearly a god, he exudes arrogance as if it were an odor from his flesh. He will frankly do whatever he must to survive, something that makes him both ruthless and frighteningly lethal.
Able to easily appear personable and kind when he believes that he can gain something from it; his attempts at charm are often overruled by barely controlled rage issues and a just beneath the surface impatience. His drives are simple. He wishes to keep himself alive, which means that he is always hunting for sustenance for both he and the only ones that he considers to be his equals. Considering himself to be nearly a god, he exudes arrogance as if it were an odor from his flesh. He will frankly do whatever he must to survive, something that makes him both ruthless and frighteningly lethal.
B i o g r a p h y
"Come and let me tell you a story of a young man. You may not believe it, but please, it's my last gift to you."
-Antellus
I’ve always wanted to fly. Not silly space travel. I mean these days anyone can hop a ship and be from one planet to another in what seems like no time. Not even sky gliding works for me, not really. I used to tell myself that I would one day be able to soar through the purple clouds of my home world if I could just believe it enough; if I could hold onto the hope it would become real. So many times I found myself on a cliff overlooking the small village that I was raised in; it felt like a million miles up, but it was so beautiful.
All who walked below me were like insects, the city was nothing more than a toy figurine, and the only thing that was real; the only thing that truly existed was the wind on my face and the gulls drifting on thermals around me. I would close my eyes as tightly as I could, so tightly that I would see stars, and then I would spread my arms to either side and let the air rush past me, through me. It was as if some divine power knew just what I wanted and aspired to help me.
But I could never do it; I was always too weak to. I could never make the leap or jump, and would always return to my home just before darkness would fall and call forth the night. The walk was always the worst, there was always this hollowness in my chest, this ache that verged on pain, and when my mother would ask where I had been, I would simply reply that I’d been playing with my friends. She would believe my lies, and the next day would be just the same. Much of my youth was wasted on my dreams.
As I grew older, I realized that needlessly begrudging some gulls on a cliff side would never give me what I wanted. I would never be able to wheel myself through the air, nor would I be able to feel that faint moisture against my flesh as a cumulus dimpled and then exploded with the grace of my avian form. For some time I was bitter, distant, and cold. I recall now with some humor the despondence that heralded cries of worry and concern from my family. I used to grow so angry at them for it, and I could never understand why they wouldn’t give me the peace I needed to claim my measly solace. I was horribly short sighted.
Eventually, I was given a choice. I would either see the village’s mind healer, or I would be forced to leave forever; such was the spirit of gloom that I emanated. It was on that very night that my sadness turned to anger, from anger into jubilation. At first I raged, I tore childishly at our possessions, practically destroyed the place that I had called home for twenty years. I was so wroth that my own family called upon the enforcers of our small community. Of course, I fought them, I worked and I struggled until I was fatigued; until I was ready to lie down and let them take me away so that I would never have to know the pain of unrequited hope.
And then a miracle came to me. The local boys finally subdued me, and as I was being forcefully pushed into their hover conveyance, I caught something out of the corner of my eye; it was the first land to air glider that I had ever seen; and it was my comrade on the trip to the detainment facility. With some curiosity I asked what the thing that looked like a giant mixture of metal and sail was used for; to which I was first laughed at and jeered to, only to have my question answered after some several inquiries. The thing was on loan to them from the planetary defense army, something about being used for surveillance. I didn’t care if they were used to fly into the side of the mountain. I signed up for the planetary defense as soon as I was released.
Being a soldier isn’t so bad. I learned a lot about discipline during my time, and though that ferocity that churned in my soul did not die away, I learned how to channel it into things that worked to my benefit, and the benefit of my planet. I became an expert in my field, easily picking up aerial motion while simultaneously picking up images for militant use. I didn’t care about the second part, despite the good that it did. No, what I fell in love with was the near bird-like way that I could finally enjoy the skies. Of course, it wasn’t exactly the same as those gulls that still filled my dreams at night, but it were so close that I could hardly care.
I recall on one mission, I was asked to do a routine run on a compound that I had been watching for some time. Everything went according to plan until the very end when I was guiding my mini-ship with what amounted to a manual rudder. Many of those in my profession had automatic functions for such devices, but I liked how hands on I could be, and I cherished every personal touch that I could bring to my flying experiences. Unfortunately, I must have done something wrong, because a down current caught me off guard, and I was soon careening face first towards the side of a large building. I didn’t have time to thrust any direction; and that night the sky bled her onyx love into me so that I could claim blissful oblivion.
When I awoke, I wasn’t home. I wasn’t in the barracks that I had been using as my housing since moving to my mission location; instead, I found myself in an unfamiliar bed. Wherever I was, it was cold, so cold that even with the blankets wrapped securely around me, I could still feel my prone body tremble to the chill. I was broken; not just a leg or an arm, but my body. The pain was excruciating and I found myself begging for something to let me slip back into the sleep I was soon denied for days at a time; the victim of searing aches that would rocket through me like electricity pouring through my nervous system. Even amidst the agony, my deepest concern was that I would be unable to fly again. I was in hell, and no number of tears would make it go away.
With time, I learned that I had been transferred to a low budget hospital. I would never be able to use my limbs again, not without prosthesis; and even with my bravado I could not muster the courage to give the go ahead. Six months later I was released from my duty service, denied any form of compensation for my shattered body because my ill was formed by my own mistakes. The coldness of the system was almost as bad as having lost the use of nearly eighty percent of my body. I was a shell, but nothing more and I knew it every time that I woke from what seemed like an unending night fueled by sleeping drugs.
That is when I met him. I was at my lowest point, and yet I continued to push through. There was nothing for me in the way of work, but my family was gracious. Thus, I ‘lived’ out just a few more years under their care until one day I was wheeled up to my favored place to be left during the times when my doctors wouldn’t let me force my way into the dreaming world; the top of my cliff overlooking my home.
Even while I sat, looking once again at the gulls with them swooping and dipping dexterously, my life support beeped incessantly letting me know that I was still alive, and that I would never go without needing it. So many times I wished that the wheels of my prison would just roll forward a few feet so that I could have my final death, but fate was never so merciful. And, when I would close my eyes to make the images of the birds go away, I would still see my many dreams unfolding before a blank gaze. Life through the eyes of the avian that I detested, that I was jealous of, that I loved was all that I could see; it was jarring enough to make my eyes pull wide, and on many occasions I would do so with tears gleaming against my orbs.
One day, I felt a pressure against my shoulder. At first I made a startled sound as I tried to crane my neck to see the man, but I could barely turn head at all and in the end I gave up trying to see the figure that had decided to haunt me. A voice came out in a cool yet somber tone; it was filled with a strange knowledge. I remember the conversation vividly as if each detail is etched on my memory.
"Do you fear death?"
"I'm dead as it is; why should I fear a word that is nothing but a label. Like cripple”
"Death is more than a state of being; it is a state of mind. When you give in to it then you are truly dead. I ask again, do you fear death?"
"I do. I fear being imprisoned. I fear the unknown, so yes. I fear death."
"Are you willing to ascend mortality at the cost of your physical body?"
“I'm willing to give anything for my freedom. Anything."
"To earn your freedom you must first become a slave. A slave to hunger. You will be locked in a cage for eternity, and any sense of humanity you might hold dear will dissipate."
"Will I be able to fly?"
"Do you wish to fly?"
“More than I wish to breathe."
"You will soon cease to breathe, but if you desire you can be taught to fly."
"Then make me a slave to this hunger, lock me in a cage, and take away every single ounce of my humanity. It's worth it."
"You will be forced to endure pain more intense than any you have possibly imagined."
"If I feared pain, I wouldn't be where I am. Please give me what I've asked for. Please."
"It shall be done. The blood of the innocent shall stain your hands for eternity."
"There is no such thing as innocence. I learned that a long time ago."
Those were the last words I gurgled, long ago, from my mostly useless mouth. I don’t really remember much from that point on; it was like I drifted off again, and when I awoke I was no longer the destroyed middle aged man that had gone into a nearly coma like comatose state. I have no idea how he did it, how Vyzren did it, how my savior gave me back my arms and my legs, my strong back, and most importantly my wings. But, I don’t care.
As soon as I was able to, I stood and pushed my way outside into the darkness of the night. My body was not…it wasn’t a body, but glory of glories; I had wings! I remember so clearly that I was on some kind of balcony, and I jumped. I was excited beyond the scope of normal comprehension. It was like a taste of paradise as my beautiful golden feathers unfurled, carrying me through the air just as I was about to smash into the ground. The wind caught them at the last moment, and I was suddenly hundreds of feet into the air. I was in love. I was alive. I was finally soaring, and I would be forever grateful.
All who walked below me were like insects, the city was nothing more than a toy figurine, and the only thing that was real; the only thing that truly existed was the wind on my face and the gulls drifting on thermals around me. I would close my eyes as tightly as I could, so tightly that I would see stars, and then I would spread my arms to either side and let the air rush past me, through me. It was as if some divine power knew just what I wanted and aspired to help me.
But I could never do it; I was always too weak to. I could never make the leap or jump, and would always return to my home just before darkness would fall and call forth the night. The walk was always the worst, there was always this hollowness in my chest, this ache that verged on pain, and when my mother would ask where I had been, I would simply reply that I’d been playing with my friends. She would believe my lies, and the next day would be just the same. Much of my youth was wasted on my dreams.
<||X||>
As I grew older, I realized that needlessly begrudging some gulls on a cliff side would never give me what I wanted. I would never be able to wheel myself through the air, nor would I be able to feel that faint moisture against my flesh as a cumulus dimpled and then exploded with the grace of my avian form. For some time I was bitter, distant, and cold. I recall now with some humor the despondence that heralded cries of worry and concern from my family. I used to grow so angry at them for it, and I could never understand why they wouldn’t give me the peace I needed to claim my measly solace. I was horribly short sighted.
Eventually, I was given a choice. I would either see the village’s mind healer, or I would be forced to leave forever; such was the spirit of gloom that I emanated. It was on that very night that my sadness turned to anger, from anger into jubilation. At first I raged, I tore childishly at our possessions, practically destroyed the place that I had called home for twenty years. I was so wroth that my own family called upon the enforcers of our small community. Of course, I fought them, I worked and I struggled until I was fatigued; until I was ready to lie down and let them take me away so that I would never have to know the pain of unrequited hope.
And then a miracle came to me. The local boys finally subdued me, and as I was being forcefully pushed into their hover conveyance, I caught something out of the corner of my eye; it was the first land to air glider that I had ever seen; and it was my comrade on the trip to the detainment facility. With some curiosity I asked what the thing that looked like a giant mixture of metal and sail was used for; to which I was first laughed at and jeered to, only to have my question answered after some several inquiries. The thing was on loan to them from the planetary defense army, something about being used for surveillance. I didn’t care if they were used to fly into the side of the mountain. I signed up for the planetary defense as soon as I was released.
<||X||>
Being a soldier isn’t so bad. I learned a lot about discipline during my time, and though that ferocity that churned in my soul did not die away, I learned how to channel it into things that worked to my benefit, and the benefit of my planet. I became an expert in my field, easily picking up aerial motion while simultaneously picking up images for militant use. I didn’t care about the second part, despite the good that it did. No, what I fell in love with was the near bird-like way that I could finally enjoy the skies. Of course, it wasn’t exactly the same as those gulls that still filled my dreams at night, but it were so close that I could hardly care.
I recall on one mission, I was asked to do a routine run on a compound that I had been watching for some time. Everything went according to plan until the very end when I was guiding my mini-ship with what amounted to a manual rudder. Many of those in my profession had automatic functions for such devices, but I liked how hands on I could be, and I cherished every personal touch that I could bring to my flying experiences. Unfortunately, I must have done something wrong, because a down current caught me off guard, and I was soon careening face first towards the side of a large building. I didn’t have time to thrust any direction; and that night the sky bled her onyx love into me so that I could claim blissful oblivion.
When I awoke, I wasn’t home. I wasn’t in the barracks that I had been using as my housing since moving to my mission location; instead, I found myself in an unfamiliar bed. Wherever I was, it was cold, so cold that even with the blankets wrapped securely around me, I could still feel my prone body tremble to the chill. I was broken; not just a leg or an arm, but my body. The pain was excruciating and I found myself begging for something to let me slip back into the sleep I was soon denied for days at a time; the victim of searing aches that would rocket through me like electricity pouring through my nervous system. Even amidst the agony, my deepest concern was that I would be unable to fly again. I was in hell, and no number of tears would make it go away.
<||X||>
With time, I learned that I had been transferred to a low budget hospital. I would never be able to use my limbs again, not without prosthesis; and even with my bravado I could not muster the courage to give the go ahead. Six months later I was released from my duty service, denied any form of compensation for my shattered body because my ill was formed by my own mistakes. The coldness of the system was almost as bad as having lost the use of nearly eighty percent of my body. I was a shell, but nothing more and I knew it every time that I woke from what seemed like an unending night fueled by sleeping drugs.
That is when I met him. I was at my lowest point, and yet I continued to push through. There was nothing for me in the way of work, but my family was gracious. Thus, I ‘lived’ out just a few more years under their care until one day I was wheeled up to my favored place to be left during the times when my doctors wouldn’t let me force my way into the dreaming world; the top of my cliff overlooking my home.
Even while I sat, looking once again at the gulls with them swooping and dipping dexterously, my life support beeped incessantly letting me know that I was still alive, and that I would never go without needing it. So many times I wished that the wheels of my prison would just roll forward a few feet so that I could have my final death, but fate was never so merciful. And, when I would close my eyes to make the images of the birds go away, I would still see my many dreams unfolding before a blank gaze. Life through the eyes of the avian that I detested, that I was jealous of, that I loved was all that I could see; it was jarring enough to make my eyes pull wide, and on many occasions I would do so with tears gleaming against my orbs.
One day, I felt a pressure against my shoulder. At first I made a startled sound as I tried to crane my neck to see the man, but I could barely turn head at all and in the end I gave up trying to see the figure that had decided to haunt me. A voice came out in a cool yet somber tone; it was filled with a strange knowledge. I remember the conversation vividly as if each detail is etched on my memory.
"Do you fear death?"
"I'm dead as it is; why should I fear a word that is nothing but a label. Like cripple”
"Death is more than a state of being; it is a state of mind. When you give in to it then you are truly dead. I ask again, do you fear death?"
"I do. I fear being imprisoned. I fear the unknown, so yes. I fear death."
"Are you willing to ascend mortality at the cost of your physical body?"
“I'm willing to give anything for my freedom. Anything."
"To earn your freedom you must first become a slave. A slave to hunger. You will be locked in a cage for eternity, and any sense of humanity you might hold dear will dissipate."
"Will I be able to fly?"
"Do you wish to fly?"
“More than I wish to breathe."
"You will soon cease to breathe, but if you desire you can be taught to fly."
"Then make me a slave to this hunger, lock me in a cage, and take away every single ounce of my humanity. It's worth it."
"You will be forced to endure pain more intense than any you have possibly imagined."
"If I feared pain, I wouldn't be where I am. Please give me what I've asked for. Please."
"It shall be done. The blood of the innocent shall stain your hands for eternity."
"There is no such thing as innocence. I learned that a long time ago."
Those were the last words I gurgled, long ago, from my mostly useless mouth. I don’t really remember much from that point on; it was like I drifted off again, and when I awoke I was no longer the destroyed middle aged man that had gone into a nearly coma like comatose state. I have no idea how he did it, how Vyzren did it, how my savior gave me back my arms and my legs, my strong back, and most importantly my wings. But, I don’t care.
As soon as I was able to, I stood and pushed my way outside into the darkness of the night. My body was not…it wasn’t a body, but glory of glories; I had wings! I remember so clearly that I was on some kind of balcony, and I jumped. I was excited beyond the scope of normal comprehension. It was like a taste of paradise as my beautiful golden feathers unfurled, carrying me through the air just as I was about to smash into the ground. The wind caught them at the last moment, and I was suddenly hundreds of feet into the air. I was in love. I was alive. I was finally soaring, and I would be forever grateful.
S t a s t i s t i c s
Kills: 0
Dueling Ring Matches: 0
Grand Tournament Matches: 0
Role-plays:
Dueling Ring Matches: 0
Grand Tournament Matches: 0
Role-plays:
