The Irregulars Savage Rifts
Height: 73 inches (6ft 1in)
Weight: 200 lb.
Hair: Black, comes to a peak in the front.
Long enough to reach his shoulder blades.
OOC Notes regarding the Aria True
Atlantean Clan: Green eyes are more common
among the clan than other clans.
General Appearance: Tan or olive skin tone,
appears to be in Mid-20’s. Sculpted, muscular
definition, however slender build. Appears
quick and agile.
Has a tattoo of a sword with green flames on
the blade upon his right wrist. The flames
appear as stylized music notes. The tip
extends up into his palm so he can touch it
with his central fingers.
His left wrist has a tattoo of a heart with
a stake penetrating it and dripping blood.
Which flows into his palm so he can touch
How Do You Top That?
The man clad in custom armor emerald green Urban Warrior armor with techno-wizard enchanted silver abalone trim looked around at the rocky island as he was dripping wet with water from the rain and the spray of the sea crashing against the shore. The sound of Horune pirates echoed behind him . As the waves began to recede he could see the blue glow of the ley line from the cliff’s edge. He checked the straps on his pack and took a running leap off the cliff! Laser fire nearly missing him from the pirates as he falls and it looks as though the crashing waves and rocks swallow him whole.
The pirates wonder how this person even found their remote islands. They murmur to each other that his jumping to his death seemed as weird as how he appeared from the glowing blue wall of energy the shamans use. They begin to head back when one of the pirates takes a final look over the side to see a green clad arm break the surface with a single extended middle finger before vanishing in a flash of blue light.
Valdus, had been to three different worlds in his education as a healer. Now getting home to where his clan was now primarily based was becoming quite the ordeal. Prone to run from fights rather than towards therm. The single and only caveat to that was seeing someone injured. He vehemently denies the notion of bravery as stupid, vain, glory seeking. All he is doing is upholding his oath as a doctor to render aid when possible. He will only fight or tolerate combat long enough to find a way out and make sure his friends are able to leave together.
Over the next few hours he appeared at the hidden True Atlantean outpost located near the eastern coast of Argentina. The place appeared to be in shambles as though a number of explosions happened. As quietly as he could Valdus moved through the wreckage trying to find clues and ascertain what had happened. No more than 20 people occupied this outpost at any one point for the Aerihman clan, and most of them would have been out on patrol. The four bodies he’d come across were clearly True Atlantean and very dead.
A noise caught his attention and he inched over to a shattered wall, only to spot a creature of horror and nightmares, a lone Splugorth Slaver! Simply seeing one for real was horrifying and time seemed to freeze him in his tracks. When his wits returned he realized it was coming closer! Then he caught sight of the motivation for his approach, an injured Undead Hunter! Around her injured body was six other women in what appeared to be skin tight, black rubber, bathing suits with steel helmets that completely covered their heads. The Splugorth Slavers were a feared foe and this warrior had held off the other assailants which would ride on the slaver’s hovering platform. Now it was just down to the injured Undead Hunter and the slaver that appeared unharmed.
Valdus knew he had to save her so she could help inform the other outposts to prevent a larger incursion. Knowing this might mean the end for him if it saved a kinsman then there was no greater way to honor his oath of saving lives and this, this would be the one and only time he stood like a warrior. Such as the injured goddess he saw on the ground when her helmet was blasted off her head! “Buy her time to run, that’s all I have to do and then flee,” he repeated over and over as though he was convincing himself more than making plans of attack.
Checking his straps and looking at the pocket where his credits were kept he sighed that he hadn’t even had a good reason to spend them, “Well, Hades. Here goes nothing.”
Screaming as loud as he could to gets its attention he jumped over the busted wall and with his left hand he fired four blasts of green, glowing, mega-psionic energy at the guns on the platform. The words he’d been screaming were not some glorious battle but “RUN! RUN! NOW! THIS IS YOUR ONLY CHANCE TO RUN FOR COVER!” Before he even saw how successful his volley had been he fired a second mega-psionic blast straight at the Splugorth Slaver! The wounded Undead Hunter saw his blasts take out and destroy the guns mounted on the floating platform! She saw his second blast hit and cause the Splugorth Slaver to EXPLODE!
The wrecked floating platform and slaver’s carcass fell the 10 feet into the ground under the echoing thunder of the blast! Valdus stopped and looked at his hands and back up at what he’d just done until he heard, “Help? Please!” He snapped his head and he turned to run to the warrior on the ground, and under his breath he gasped at how attractive he thought she was. The minute he saw blood on her his training kicked in and he splinted her leg. Helping the warrior to her feet he exclaimed pointing back to the eviscerated slaver, “We gotta get out of here before someone realizes I did that!”
Six Months Later
Velma Aerihman was getting along well with a few people at the bar, Valdus sat at a table in a corner of the bar here at Castle Refuge. She was telling the story of how he killed a slaver, healed her broken leg, got her back to safety. Then how she smuggled him out of the shotgun wedding her father tried to arrange for them. Three stolen ships, two Lay Line Storms, and a Rift plopped them down 50 miles from Castle Refuge. A magic pigeon from his family arrived a day later with orders to be their eyes in North America. Valdus knew finding Castle Refuge was sheer dumb luck of which farmer he asked for help. Velma still calls it destiny in her telling of the tale. She winks at him from the bar and Valdus makes a note to test her reflexes for signs of nerve damage.
Where the hell is the group he’s been assigned to help as their medic?