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Fandom Knew we shoulda nuked it from orbit... (An AvP Story Character Sheets)



Fantasy and Sci-fi Enthusiast
Below is the basic template for character sheets. Keep in mind that the 'backstory' section doesn't have to be overly elaborative as it won't play much into things for a Marine, though Predators are free to make it a bit more expansive if they like.


Race (Human, Synth, Hybrid, Yautja):

Faction (Marines, Mercs, We-Yu, Hunting Party):





Equipment and Weaponry:

Brief Backstory:

Appearance Description/Face Claim:
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Worthless pleb
Name: Mordre, of Clan Hash'akit;

Race: Yautja;

Faction: Hunting Party;

Rank: Elite;

Age: 278 years old;

Height: 7'8" aka 233 cm;

Gender: Male

Equipment and Weaponry:
  • A single wrist-blade strapped to Mordre's right arm, acid resistant;
  • Plasmacaster with a variable charge setting;
  • Hash'akit Bio-Mask;
  • Medicomp, a Yautja's best companion when it comes to treating wounds on themselves or others. Various surgical implements that are needed to perform aid in the field;
  • The Wrist Computer aka Wrist Gauntlet, The Yautja's deeply valued instrument that operates and links directly to the bio-mask, communication, cloak management, and certain weaponry;
  • H'sai'de — The Yautja Straight Sword, carried and used by certain elites, elders, and/or enforcers;

Brief Backstory: Mordre, whose name translated means Biter, is an experienced hunter who hails from the Hash'akit Clan. Unlike his renown as an excellent hunter nowadays, Mordre came from humble beginnings. Such as being the hunter who remained unblooded for the longest time, many considering him as a genetic failure which would only lead to a dead-end. It took the combined guidance and tutelage from his Elder father and an elite warrior by the name of Teniti. The crowning hunt which granted him the rank of blooded was a young blood hunt across a desert planet seeded with a xenomorph queen. The planet had an odd-toed ungulate species which closely resembled Earth's camels. The xenomorphs used their humps to become a living mortar that spewed corrosive globules that ended many of the young bloods and injuring some, the rest were picked off by fast drones. The only survivor and victor from this hunt had been Mordre for singlehandedly slaying several serpents in the hunting grounds. Although he never managed to kill the serpent queen, his hunt was still considered a success by many of his peers and superiors.

Mordre would continue his life, enjoying many solo hunts throughout the galaxy. From Serpent to Human to Beasts. The trophies cleaned, blood mixed and drank from a chalice. It had been a good life so far though one notably repetitive for one such as he. Thus to stave off boredom, he departed from his clan and clan brothers to partake in the hunts of fellow Yautja, hoping to learn their ways as well. One can learn much from observing his peers, he found.

Appearance Description: Mordre stands tall over many humans and some kinsmen, his dry skin is freckled with orange spots that cover the shoulders, back, and go down to lower back. This predator's longer dreadlocks are adorned by golden clasps marking the experienced hunter's most successful hunts. Emerald coloured eyes. Most notable is that Mordre's angular bio-mask denoting his heritage from the Hash'akit, also known as the Blood Drinker Clan. The scale-like flaps around his waist are treated with certain chemicals to adopt a darker grey colour. His bio-mask also has cyan/lighter blue lenses. Mordre's mandibles had a minute serrated quality to them, a malformation sustained as punishment in his youth. On his left shoulder, he scarred his skin with serpent blood in the shape of a lightning bolt in honour to the Warrior God.
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will turn your insides into your outsides
Guan-thwei .png
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Name: Bha'kuti

Race: Yautja

Faction: Guan-thwei (Night Blood) Clan

Rank: Young Blood

Age: 72 (equivalent to early 20's)

Height: 6' 10'' (208 cm)

Weight: 267 lbs. (121 kg)

Sex: Female

Equipment and Weaponry:
Though her father was a prestigious clan leader, Bha'kuti has been given no privilege in her own rise to prominence. As such, her gear is rather basic and unadorned. Her weapons are standard, and her armor plain. She had yet to properly embellish her equiment with the regalia so commonly observed of veteran hunters.
  • Hunter's Bio-Mask:
    • Thermal
    • Infrared
    • EM Field Detector (for Xenomorphs)
    • Translator/Recorder
  • Light Armor w/ Mesh Weave
  • Basic Plasma Caster (Left Shoulder)
  • Telescoping Spear
  • Medical Kit (Belted, Right Side)
  • Wrist Blades, 2-prong (Right arm)
  • Self-Destruct Device/Wrist Gauntlet (Left Arm)
    • Linked to Bio-Mask and Plasma Caster

Brief Backstory:
Bha'kuti is the daughter of the late Malkande, the previous chieftain of the Guan-thwei clan. The chief having sired no other progeny, Bha'kuti is the sole inheritor of his legacy. However, she has only recently been blooded and is nowhere near the ability to contest for leadership. There are a handful of seasoned hunters within the clan that now vie for the prominent position, but the clan has yet to hold an official bout for the title. As such, Bha'kuti is eager to accrue experience and honor in her hunts. A new chief will surely be chosen before she can fight for the position. And she grudgingly accepts this fact. Unlike her headstrong father, Bha'kuti is patient and cunning, both in the hunt and in her ambitions to eventually take back the chiefdom that was her father's and his fathers before him. Her progress has been diligent, pacing herself as she takes on more difficult quarry and gleaning wisdom with each successful kill.

Only two seasons ago did she bring down her first serpent and earn the marks of her clan. And while she has a general respect from her fellow hunters, she is often in the shadow of Malkande's glorious deeds. She had only one great hunt to enjoy alongside her parent before he was killed in an accidental explosion on their home world. Malkande's death was less-than-befitting of a chief with such a prestigious history of victories. And Bha'kuti is adamant that her family record will not remain marred by such mediocrity. She intends to rise up and meet her father's legacy, aspiring even to surpass it. However, the young huntress has a long journey ahead of her in that regard.

With her own Guan-thwei clan in disarray, Bha'kuti has been granted permission to join on hunts with other clans that would tolerate her among their number. Provided of course, that she could win the bouts for hunting privileges. But that is something to which she is already accustomed. Even then, she is treated as an outsider to the groups she attaches herself to. She is not the only hunter that has been set wayward on account of the clan's dissociation. The clan as a whole has suffered a schism, with many of the members becoming wayward and even completely independent of the clan. Bha'kuti however, remains staunch in her aim to bring her kindred back to glory. However, allies are uncertain in this time of fracture. Bha'kuti has only a tentative trust in one other hunter at the moment, a young blood known as Silent Knife. He has himself been shunned by the clan for his own reasons, and thus has made a preferable ally to Bha'kuti. They share a common disdain for their clan's status quo.
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That One Fear In My Enemy's Eyes

Race: Yautja

Faction: Guan-thwei (Night Blood) Clan

Rank: Young Blood

Age: 76 years (early 20's)

Height: 7' 6" (~228cm)

Weight: 300 lbs (~154kg)

Gender: Male

Equipment and Weaponry:

* Bio-Helmet (4 Vision Modes including: Xeno-Vision*, Infrared-Vision, Neuro-Vision*, Tech-Vision*)

- This is the only vision mode which can properly "see" Xenomorphs as the others either show nothing or only vague, blurry outlines or shapes reminiscent of Xenomorph bodies.
- Neuro-Vision analyzes the heart rate, calculated blood pressure, and pheromones of the target to determine the current neurological stress levels. The calmer the prey, the more green they appear. The more stressed they are, the more red they appear.
- Tech-Vision highlights electrical wirings and signal paths to aid in the identification of important technological devices, and to map the layout of installations based on the electric pipeline and wired networks.

* Audio-Projection Device
- This device can be set on floors, walls, or even ceilings where it will play recorded audio from his bio-helmet to help create directional distractions the bio-mask is otherwise incapable of on its own

* Wristblades (right arm, Self-Destruct on the left arm)
* Ceremonial Hunting Knife (left thigh)
* Medical Kit (Right Hip)

* 4 Electric Snare Traps (chest-strap)
- Releases a mild electric charge intended to temporarily immobilize and disorient prey
- Traps are re-usable if recovered

Appearance Description: Gifted with a naturally lean and muscular frame, Silent Knife's athleticism, dexterity, and agility are a cut above the average Young Blood. However, as one might expect, there are trade offs to everything. Given his leaner frame he's almost always outmatched for raw physical strength and power by comparison to the rest of his Clan Brothers and Sisters. But Silent Knife's a forward thinker, and what he lacks in raw power he makes up for with cunning and utility skills using his understanding of stealth and traps to tenderize the prey before his Clan Brothers and Sisters move in for the finishing strike.

(Note to Murdergurl: If you want to give Silent Knife and Bha'kuti some personal history, hit me up and we can figure out how they know each other and how far their kinship as Clanmates goes!)

Brief Backstory: Silent Knife was born into the Guan-thwei (Night Blood) Clan, and his birth was just another among many. An average pup born to average parents. And only his mother, Nau'dqi, seemed to believe he'd be worth more than his humble birthing would otherwise suggest.

Training under his mother as a pup was about what any Yautja could expect. Strictness with love. A Den Mother with an edge dulled only by her compassion for her flesh and blood. She was happy to physically strike him when his guard was dropped, and would follow immediately by encouraging him to rise before giving him a forehead bump of reassurance before demanding they try again. Unfortunately, dropping his guard became a bad habit as a pup in training which proved to be exactly what his mother once warned him... "To drop your guard invites death, pup." And she was right. Or, well... Almost.

On one of the most important nights of his life, the Serpent Hunt to earn the Young Blood status, Silent Knife dropped his guard when it seemed all serpents had been slain. He expected his two Clan Brothers to rejoice in their success as he did. But they did not. They sternly reminded him it wasn't over until the Queen was silenced. Her cries in the depths of the pyramid would not cease so long as one of her children remained. And her cries continued to echo throughout the structure from its darkest recesses. Silent Knife was unconvinced, and this proved nearly fatal. As they left the chamber where their Clan Markings took place with the acidic blood of their kill, a lone serpent leaped from the darkness and slashed Silent Knife's left side just above the hip. The tail's blade nearly cut through half his torso, stopping just a few inches shy of the milestone, and spraying his glowing green blood across the room. Were it not for the swift actions of his Clan Brothers, he would not have survived his injury, let alone made it out of the structure.

Though he attained his Young Blood status, Silent Knife was reprimanded by the Chief upon his return for his negligence. His mother, present for the return, was shamed beyond words. Literally. She refused to speak to Silent Knife from that moment on. And every time he attempted to approach to explain or beg forgiveness, his mother would lash out and send him sprawling to the ground. And always as she turned away in silence, a tiny droplet of liquid would fall to the ground at her feet as she walked away in disgust... And this pain of his mother's silence cut deeper than the serpent's tail ever did, or could.

Today, still a Young Blood yet to attain the Blooded status in his Clan, Silent Knife has refined his Hunting skills and has rid himself of his past weakness of inattentiveness and dropping his guard. Today, those in the Clan know Silent Knife as alert to the point of paranoia. Always on guard. Always observing. Always scanning. Always ready. For some, it's a good thing. They believe the pup has truly learned and is now making up for lost time. To others, it's pathetic. A shameful display of overcompensation for his past mistakes which will never be so easily erased by a simple change of behavior. But to Silent Knife, this is all useless noise. He cares not for their words or opinions. He's ready to prove himself once and for all as a Hunter worthy of respect and admiration. One others turn to for support and guidance. One that all in the Clan would be proud to call their Clan Brother.


De'Marco Raines

Age: 29

Sex: Male

Height: 6' 1"

Weight: 195 lbs

Blood Type: O Negative

Voice: Voice (ends at 2:18)

Rank: Sergeant


* ZX-76 Shotgun (modified for Slug rounds with rotating magazine)
* M260B Flamethrower
* Helmet Flashlight
* 2 Stim Packs
* Tech Hacking Device

Personality: De'Marco is a relatively laid back but still model soldier. He follows orders, watches his teammates' backs, does regular callouts anytime he sees/feels something off, and always has a spare set of dry socks. When things are quiet, he can be a bit of a smartass and tends to have jokes/quips for just about everyone and for any situation too. Sit down funny, he'll let you know. Spit at a weird angle and get some on your chin, he'll point it out with a smart remark. Let your weapon fall over from a rested position against a wall or stump or whatever, he'll be happy to remind you of the importance of proper weapon storage and maintenance. But smartass or not, he's a reliable member of the team in any situation and in any configuration that he's put in. He won't let you down when it matters most, but he'll never let you live your mistakes down either.

Biography: De'Marco Raines was born on the USCSS Osiris, a Cargo Vessel in the same class as the Nostromo. But unlike the Nostromo this vessel never went afoul of any nefarious alien beasts or company psychopaths. Instead, this cargo vessel went about its business as usual with his father serving as one of the primary Chef's under the Head Chef, and his mother serving as a member of the custodial team. Despite such modest beginnings young De'Marco always had a penchant for mischief and learned quickly to embrace a life of comedy. A life which has persisted into his Marine Corps service. But more on that later.

Living on a humble Cargo vessel like the Osiris, De'Marco never had a formal education. He was home-schooled by his parents where the emphasis was on their faith in God, math, basic science, and sports. Even on the Osiris, there was plenty of room for basketball, indoor soccer, etc. And he played against everyone and anyone, child or adult, win or lose. Never seeming to run out of optimism or good spirits, even in defeat he'd be eager to challenge the victor again in short order rather than wallow in defeat. And it was this trait which had his father thinking that a continued life on board the Osiris would be a waste of the boy's talents. So, at age 17, he had De'Marco enlist for the Marine Corps. With his athleticism and willingness to be a team player, he passed Basic Training with flying colors in the top 3 of his class before entering the Marine Corps proper.

His first tour was a deployment on the planet LV-559 where he enjoyed very little about the experience given that there was, quite literally, nothing to do. The job, if it could be called that, was watching over a handful of scientists out in the middle of a desert landscape gathering dirt, sand, and dry/dead plant samples and bringing them back to the drop ship for analysis. Nothing lived on this world that they could see. And nothing interesting happened. But hey, a successful deployment is a successful deployment. Right? His next deployment was not so enjoyable either, but for the opposing reasons. This little backwater planet didn't even have an official name yet, but it was infested out the ass with insectoid creatures that all seemed to want a piece of his company and the colonists who were trying to find a place to call "home" on the God-forsaken world. By the time it was over, he'd lost all but three of his company, including himself, and all but one colonist before they made it out... Talk about taking the wind out of your sails.

Tour after tour, De'Marco managed to continue to stay true to himself and his personality, despite the carnage he witnessed, changed very little. Although his company has seen a slight decline in the frequency of his jokes, there's been no decline in the quality. To tour with De'Marco is to ensure you've got a reliable man watching your back who'll also either split your sides or poke every button you've got before you snap.
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It's okay, I can't read either...

(I have a rough idea of the two characters that i'm working on. Fingers crossed, i'll have them both fleshed out when I have the time to do so - this is more of a placeholder ¯\_(ヅ)_/¯.)

Name: Oliver Jensen

Race: Human

Faction: USCMC Hired Contractor

Rank: Technical Advisor (Sgt, USCMC, Ret.)

Age: 52

Height: 5'10"

Gender: Male

Equipment and Weaponry:

Brief Backstory:
Born into the big empty wilderness of Alaska, Oliver's early life was confounded with isolation. His siblings were the only source of companionship, they were more to him than any wealth in the universe. His heart grew strong as the eldest Son of three, he led and they followed with conviction. Fond memories of this time are a source of comfort for Oliver as conscription papers dashed any hope of peace amongst the Jensen family. Oliver was destined for the CMC, spending countless years moving from base to base. His once solid foundations of home were now a distant memory, one that Oliver frequently tried to recall as his workload gradually overwhelmed him. Years upon year flew by, lovers met and marriages broken. Only his Son, Thomas appeared to be his one success in life and even then his dreams were dashed once more as Thomas was killed in a tragic accident. Details were vague but it had appeared a faulty fuel line had caused his Son's transport to become stranded in a frozen wasteland in the middle of no-where, on some forsaken planet. Oliver had tried to convince himself that Thomas took the quick way out than to freeze or stave but even his imagination had it's limits.

It had been a couple of years since his retirement from the Corps, but you never really leave the life of a Marine. Struggling to find regular work, Oliver signed up on behalf of a old friend to assist a Marine detachment enroute to a faintly familiar planet in the middle of nowhere. The old man decided one more mundane patrol of some backworld would help fill his pockets and fund a good spot for Thomas' memorial.

The old man's Marine career had taught him a few things about combat but mostly how to keep a loader working just fine or ensuring the lights don't go out during the night. He was a good technician by all means but still felt his efforts were on-par with a janitor, something that grinded at him over the years. He was drafted from a warm, loving home to go fix jammed doors and faulty ventilation systems on base after base after base. His whole life felt like a boring blur and something deep down yearned for the new and exciting.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Name: T.J.

Race: Synth

Faction: USCMC

Rank: Private, Combat Android

Age: N/A

Height: 6'1"

Gender: Male

Equipment and Weaponry:

Brief Backstory:
"Bred for war, born to die.", a phrase that echoed throughout T.J's mind whenever a split decision was to be made. He would make war as though it was a everyday occurance, something so simple and yet so devistating. The world seemed to slip away into nothingness, it was as if his programming blurred away whatever was irrelevant to the fight and his target gleemed brightly in his vision like a setting sun. Where some saw scenes of horror, he saw beauty, where some suffered, T.J. embraced his destiny. Being a new model, his fresh mind was filled with these visions of grandeur, of fulfilling his charge and dying when the best opportunity presented itself. - Still, he wasn't about to let himself be laid low without a fight worthy of self-sacrifice, that would be a waste of precious resources.

Not a whole lot is known about T.J. He arrived alongside other newly assigned Marines and has mostly kept to himself. Various rumours have spread about the new Combat Synth's origins, whilst the majority are hearsay arguments of him being a spy for the 'higher-ups'. A common theme has emerged from amoungst the chatter that his donor was also a Marine, one picked for his instinctual responces to intense combat and a mild-mannered personality. Whilst some Marines would be un-nerved by a completely untroubled individual, those in leadership often prefered a soldier that never grumbled or complained.

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Commissar Darman

By word or by bolter, Inspiration comes to all men
Name: Adrian Byrd

Race: Human

Faction: Marine

Rank: LCpl

Age: 29

Height: 5' 10"

Gender: Male

Equipment and Weaponry:
M314 Motion Tracker​
Combat Knife​
M4A3 Service Pistol​

Brief Backstory:
Born on the West Coast of North America. Adrian's childhood could easily be described as completely Normal. He spent his life, going to school, Hanging out with friends, playing sports, and living with his parents. Just a normal, uneventful, boring life. He hated it. Wanting some adventure. Adrian decided from an early age he wanted to be a pilot. As he got older and continued with school. Adrian's grades started to fall. Watching his grades plummet. Adrian began to fear he wouldn't be able to live his dream. As he Finally graduated. Adrian went to the Local Recruiter. There his fear was realized. He didn't qualify to be a pilot. Not wanting to spend the rest of his life stuck in his hometown. Adrian Signed to be a Marine. Even though Adrian didn't get to live his dream. Joining the Marines was by far the best thing he could have done at the time. It's just if he knew what was going to happen to him and the friends he made in the first few years of his enlistment. Adrian might have never signed up for the Corps.​
His first tour was aboard the USS Tacket. A Bougainville-class Attack Transport. Spending four years aboard her with 2nd Platoon, 2nd Division. his first three years went Like any typical Tour. Patrol their sector. respond to distress Signals. perform the Occasional Counter Insurgency Mission, And every once in a while. Go on a bogus Bug hunt. Near the end of his tour. The Tacket was sent to investigate a distress call from a Deep space mining station. When they arrived. Contact with the station could not be established. So they sent 2nd Platoon in. At first, it went smoothly. They docked and spread out. Initially, the only thing of note was the complete lack of life on the station. which, as time went on. started to make the Marines nervous. So when a member of the Platoon went missing. everyone was quite spooked. As time went on. More Marines started to disappear. By the time the Lt realized what was happening and ordered the Platoon to return to The Tacket. a third of the Platoon was missing. During the withdrawal. Adrian's Squad noticed that something was following them. As they were about halfway back to their dropship. the first member of his squad just disappeared. they turned around a corridor and he just never came round. There was no sound, no cry, nothing. One second he was there. The next, gone. within the next half hour. everyone besides him and his Squads Corpsman either just disappeared without a sound or screamed into their comms as they were taken. making it back to The Tacket. the Platoon leader ordered the destruction of the mining station. It was later revealed to the Platoon via the Stations black box that the Miners found a single egg. To this day, Adrian has nightmares about his squad.​
Now, Begining his third tour of Duty. Adrian, A Veteran of Dozens of Frontier and counter-insurgency Missions. has been assigned as the Platoons Heavy AT Marine.​

Appearance Description/Face Claim:


Fantasy and Sci-fi Enthusiast
Name: Sean Hardy

Race: Human

Faction: Colonial Marines

Rank: Staff Sergeant

Age: 28

Height: 5'11

Gender: Male

Equipment and Weaponry: M40 HEDP Grenades, Combat Knife, Kramer .50 Magnum, M37A3 Pump Shotgun

Brief Backstory: Sean was born to a pair of Irish immigrants from the Three World Empire in New York city, his father having procured a business deal in the United Americas that cemented the need to move from the Emerald Isles. Life wasn't necessarily hard on Sean, though he had a tendency to get himself into trouble with a headstrong attitude and a refusal to back down. His father was a businessman who had left the Weyland-Yutani corporation a couple of years before his birth, and he didn't ever really talk about it. The conversation was always diverted from that portion of his life, through one means or another. His father practically molded Sean to become a 'suit' from an early age. Needless to say, that didn't work out.

Sean's mindset, demeanor, and personality made him an ill fit for business in general. A head full of hopes and eagerness to explore, there was more to life than getting your secretary to get you a coffee and sitting with a bunch of aging old men in a board room. So by the time he was eighteen, Sean enlisted in the USCMC and quickly left home and hearth behind as fast as he could. His mother cried, his father demanded to know where he went wrong with the boy...and that stupid neighbor dog bit him on the way down the street.

Nothing can really prepare you for what awaits in the frontier sector, and all the basic training in the world won't get you ready for getting shot at by the U.P.P or Pirates, subduing rebellious colonies and insurgents, dealing with the absolute mind-numbing B.S that is the entire We-Yu corporation and their lawyers...or watching your squad get wiped by bugs. Hardy clawed and climbed his way through the ranks, devoting some of the best years of his life to the Corps before finally getting to the point he could lead his own squads with a 'lead from the front' mentality. He started as a private as most do, quickly making a name for himself as a reliable field technician who was charged with the upkeep of combat exosuits, sentries, and being the pack mule for every piece of equipment they could make him carry. The drop that still haunts him the most was a little colony known as 'Frejya's Kindling', a literal iceball that had managed to dig up an egg. He refuses to elaborate on what happened there, but just bringing it up you can see the light leave his eyes as he gets a 50 yard stare. Now, deployed to LV-767, Hardy is tasked with 'Alpha Platoon', and all he can hope to do is minimize losses and get everyone home...alive, preferably.

Appearance Description/Face Claim:
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Fantasy and Sci-fi Enthusiast
Name: Ghan'tha-cte Bhuja (Ruthless Spirit)

Race: Yautja

Faction: Hunting party

Rank: Elite; Berserker/Brawler

Age: 700 years of age

Height: 8'6

Gender: Male

Equipment and Weaponry: Wrist Blades: Where many Hunters brandish only a single wrist blade, Bhuja sports two wrist blades. One is attached to the gauntlet every Hunter sports at his right arm, where another rests ins a more routine housing on the off-hand. These three-pronged blades are capable of extending up to 18 inches in length.
Plasma Caster with a variable charge, on the right shoulder
A Bio Mask,
decorated with a row of 'horns' from the middle of the forehead and going up, with the largest at the top. Visually, it appears similar to a Terran Rhinoceros
  • Thermal
  • Infrared
  • EM Field Detector (for Xenomorphs)
  • Translator/Recorder
  • Neuro-display
Heavy Armor with mesh.
Ceremonial Hunting Knife on the right thigh.
Combistick, decorated in 'tally marks'. Interestingly enough, the 'grip' appears to have been decorated in the exoskeleton of a large Serpent breed.
A Maul weapon of impressive size, even for the Yautja race. This particular weapon appears to have been crafted from the remains of the same large Serpent whose exoskeleton adorns the Combistick, a Queen or Praetorian likely.

Brief Backstory: Born into the 'dhi'rauta dhi'ki-de' clan, or Cunning Death, Bhuja was the only son of the Matriarch of his clan, sired among five other siblings, his sisters. For a male, Ghan'tha-cte was impressive in size, stature, and strength with an almost anamilistic drive to continue to prove himself. Not to his mother, nor his father, his siblings or even his clan. No, the Yautja's drive comes from a much deeper well of spiritual nature, seeking to make himself the strongest individual he possibly can if only to prove good sport to Cetanu himself, the god of Death, The Black Hunter. Alas, for every positivity in life, there is negatives as well. Ghan'tha-cte, for all his impressive capabilities in combat and strategy, is not a leader nor is he well equipped for more 'social disputes'. Short tempered and brutish and a bit dim by Yautja standards despite being of considerable age by now, Ghan'tha-cte has not earned the title of 'Elder', for an Elder must be equally capable of being a leader as they are a Hunter.

On the first hunt that would mark him as blooded, he was deployed with the rest of his 'Pack' to engage a serpents nest, as is tradition. Where one chose cunning and scalpel like precision, and another chose stealth...Ghan'tha-cte took a direct approach. Spending his formative years harnessing and refining his natural rage and aggression, the unblooded charged head first into any opposition he encountered, carving through Serpent in equal measure. Granted, the ritual requires only the death of a single serpent to be qualified as a success. Where as the other two Hunters of his party returned with but one corpse, Ghan'tha-cte returned with three and had only done so do to the acidic blood rendering the rest of his equipment no longer fit for battle, as an unbloodeds equipment is not meant to resist or be immune to such acidic blood.

Ghan'tha-cte went on with this primal and animlaistic drive to become stronger and exceed his strength, time and time again. At the age of two hundred he took the ritual to become an Elite, a process that required the death of a Queen. One would think stealth was the best approach to this, or some form of cunning...but true to nature, the brute charged face first into the opposition he encountered, carving a bloody wave through any Serpent who would dare halt his advance. It was a several day long process, with the battle with the Queen a long and arduous process. However, he proved victorious and returned with the head of the Queen.

Years later, Ghan'tha-cte would be deployed at the behest of his Mother who was becoming venerable in age to investigate the disappearance of another Elite, 'Soft Meat in White' being responsible for the cause. What would be found would fill the Hunter with rage, 'Weyland-Yutani' having caputed a Hunter alive and imprisoned it, and stripped of its gear. There was no subtlety to that approach, less so than when he attacked the Hive. Ghan'tha-cte charged forward (as had become his routine approach), slaughtering the compound and then granting the disgraced hunter an honorable death, overloading his bracer to take him and the compound with him. Weyland-Yutani, for humanities side of things, covered this up as an 'unfortunate lab accident'.

And yet, for all his successful hunts and battles, for the prestige and skill he boasts, he has not climbed higher than an Elite. For after all, an Elder and Clan Leader must be able to lead and have a modicum of social ability, which Bhuja does not boast. To this end, a bargain was struck with his Mother, the Matriarch, and the Clan Leader. Should he be able to take a Hunting Party to fruition and the survival of all members, the title of Elder would be awarded to him, thus allowing him to avoid waiting another three hundred years to completely forgo the title to be considered 'Ancient'. The survival of an entire Hunting Party was rare indeed, but headstrong as always he agreed... And thus, Ghan'tha-cte among others would depart for hunting grounds of fertile nature, a planet titled by the humans as 'LV-767', where a mighty storm brewed and a Serpent Nest was rapidly swelling in size.

Appearance Description/Face Claim:


Ten Thousand Club
Name: Kali

Race: hybrid

Faction: marines

Rank: bug expert

Age: 22

Height: 6' 2"

Gender: female

Equipment and Weaponry:
Kali being a hybrid relies on her xenomorph traits for combat. She has sharp claws and a sharp tail. Strength that can match a predator. Her blood while not as powerful as a pure xeno is still Acidic enough to eat through metal and flesh. She can also command small numbers of drones and warriors but it is taxing and she can peer into their hive mind though it can be dangerous. Lastly like other hybrids She is able to heal extremely fast able to recover from bullets in hours.

Brief Backstory:
Kali was not born but rather like all hybrids created. Wayland yutani had made many hybrids before Kali and many after but she is special. This is not from any action of her own but rather director Eliot Emerson who seeking advancement and fortune drove his team to improve the hybrid. They used queen DNA and sought to make her more xenomorph than human yet still look human.

When first released from the vats Kali seemed to be a succes she looked human despite all the extra xeno in her. Kali was raised in a lab undergoing test after test. The first signs that something might be wrong was during what Kali calls a play date. She was brought into a chamber with a captive xeno and instead of ignoring her the xeno seemed to fall under her sway. A latter test which had Kali eat royal jelly to see how it or the drug xeno zip might affect her saw Kali under going heavy and painful mutations. This was her xeno half visibly asserting itself. Still Emerson thought she was a succes and to prove it he has started having her loaned out to the marines.

Appearance Description/Face Claim:
Name: Hikari Tanaka

Race: Human

Faction: Marines

Rank: Private 1st class

Age: 25

Height: 1.65m

Gender: F

Equipment and Weaponry: VP70 gun

Brief Backstory: she was bornt in a space colony from media class parents, nothing really outstanding in her family or school, however, in this relatively poor colony military service was an easy way to get a job and a ticket out of boredom town, so she joined the marines and ended in communications. Though efficient and responsible enough as to occassionally sit on the bridge, she hasn't seen much of actual combat beyond the regular training.

Appearance Description/Face Claim:


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