Post by Callion on Dec 5, 2016 13:55:22 GMT
Name: Callion (kal - ee - on)
Alias: The Prideless Traitor
Species: Saiyan
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Appearance:
History:
Callion was born in a remote sector of Planet Vegeta. His parents were Courge, the low class blademaster of age thirty-six, and Okara, a thirty-two year old Saiyan who believed in nonviolence but was secretly at an elite level. The baby had his mother’s silky black hair, and his father’s hair shape and hard black eyes. Thankfully, or maybe unfortunately, the boy took more after his mother in terms of strength, and had a power level of forty three at birth. Callion’s upbringing was a fairly simple one. Despite Okara’s protests, Courge, who preferred to be called Scourge thank you very much, raised the boy to be a warrior. By age four, the boy had begun his training in a style of swordplay created by the Scourge himself. By age five, he had the techniques almost mastered, and his power level had jumped tremendously to an astonishing 688. Truly, he should have been destined for great things. Should have. Unfortunately, the boy had something unique about him that no Saiyan had ever experienced before. A complete and total lack of pride, and general disinterest in his race’s lineage or accomplishments. Other children often called him “a coward” or a “prideless worm.” The insults had no effect on Callion except opening his eyes to how cruel his own race could be. Frankly, it disgusted eight year old Callion, but perhaps as he grew older, he would become more desensitized to it. Callion could not have been more wrong.
While his parents may have been a low class blow hard, and a nonviolent waste of Saiyan blood , the higher ups of the Saiyan Academy saw potential in the boy, and after much debating finally agreed to have him enrolled. At age eight and with a power level much higher than the one he had three years ago, Callion entered the Saiyan academy. The word “hell” was a bit of an understatement when used to describe Callion’s experience in that school. For eight long years he was forced to put up with a myriad of aggravating things. More pointless talk of pride, and a frustrating amount of correction on his sword technique. And to top it off, everyone just seemed disappointed in Callion. They all expected a lot from him with his kind of power level, but he never acted in rashness, or accepted any of their requests for a spar. Any prodding of “What kind of Saiyan are you?” was met with an exasperated sigh, and the occasional response of “One who doesn’t give a damn.” Only once did someone’s words enrage Callion to violence, and that had almost gotten the prideless child expelled from the academy. Little did Callion know, that that day would mark the beginning of his downfall.
Finally, after eight years of difficult training and needless conversations, Callion graduated from the Saiyan Academy. For the first three months after his graduation, Callion simply lazed about Planet Vegeta. Any attempts to incite the young man’s service from the recruiters for the Saiyan army were skillfully dodged. His father Courge however, didn’t care for his son’s lazing ways and decided to do something about. Following the traditional method for dealing with Saiyans that didn’t meet a certain standard, the low class blademaster had the prideless brat shipped off to another planet in the hopes of an increase in the latter’s power. The planet in question was known for being a gigantic desert home to a variety of bloodthirsty beasts known to strike fear into the hearts of species across the galaxy. All except for one species in particular. The Saiyans. They loved the thrill of daily brushes with death, and the beasts provided a tough but manageable opportunity to grow even more powerful. Most Saiyans had no knowledge of this planet, though recently heard of it from a Brenchian acquaintance of his, who made it a point to describe the potential danger any visitor would face while on that planet. Courge had found the perfect opportunity to whip his son into shape.
Unfortunately for the blade master, all this expedition had done was increase his son’s apathy toward combat, and mild dislike of the Saiyan people. What his father intended for his boy was a new appreciation for the glory of fighting to stay alive, and the appreciation of what it meant to be a Saiyan Elite. While many other Saiyans would've jumped at the chance of a three year excursion featuring ample opportunities to get yourself killed if it meant getting stronger as a result, but Callion wasn’t like many other Saiyans. One of the many things, he garnered from those three years of daily torture was one simple fact. There’s nothing amazing about combat. It’s something ugly and wretched. There was no glory in dying while fighting, and there certainly was no pride in being a bloodthirsty maniac. Callion realized something about his own race during those three years of “training.” His race placed too much pride in all of the wrong things. They shouldn’t have any pride in being Saiyans. They should’ve had pride in how strong each individual was. That day, Callion developed a dislike of being referred to as a Saiyan, and swore that he would never show pride in his race, and only value his own strength. Steeled by a new resolve, Callion attacked his training with renewed vigor.
Finally after three years of grueling conditioning, he returned home, only to find out that tragedy had struck. Upon entering his home, he found not the warm embrace of his mother or the queries of his strength from his father, but the sight of two familiar people’s carcasses lying in pieces all over his living quarters. His shocked eyes scanned the corpses only to find a note left on top of his father’s severed head. Reading it, Callion’s emotions became twisted with rage.
In clear blood that Callion could only assume to be his parent’s was scrawled a challenge to do battle, but any thoughts of fighting honorably were lost in Callion’s anger.
Deciding that revenge had to be taken against this unknown assailant, he sought out after the man, and upon finding him immediately engaged him. Callion, fueled with rage eventually won the battle and had the killer by the throat. He then proceeded to try and finish the man off, and flee the scene. Callion unfortunately failed to finish the job. Another Saiyan arrived in time for the killer to give his own version of the events that occurred before finally passing.
During this time Callion found his father's old pod, got into it, and with a few tears in his eyes over the loss of his only family, put in a series of random coordinates, and fled the planet. He knew he could never return, and quite honestly he didn’t care. That place would never be home. Better to drift the cosmos than go back to that awful hell.
Twenty four hours later, he would crash land on Planet Earth.
Alias: The Prideless Traitor
Species: Saiyan
Gender: Male
Age: 19
Appearance:
History:
Callion was born in a remote sector of Planet Vegeta. His parents were Courge, the low class blademaster of age thirty-six, and Okara, a thirty-two year old Saiyan who believed in nonviolence but was secretly at an elite level. The baby had his mother’s silky black hair, and his father’s hair shape and hard black eyes. Thankfully, or maybe unfortunately, the boy took more after his mother in terms of strength, and had a power level of forty three at birth. Callion’s upbringing was a fairly simple one. Despite Okara’s protests, Courge, who preferred to be called Scourge thank you very much, raised the boy to be a warrior. By age four, the boy had begun his training in a style of swordplay created by the Scourge himself. By age five, he had the techniques almost mastered, and his power level had jumped tremendously to an astonishing 688. Truly, he should have been destined for great things. Should have. Unfortunately, the boy had something unique about him that no Saiyan had ever experienced before. A complete and total lack of pride, and general disinterest in his race’s lineage or accomplishments. Other children often called him “a coward” or a “prideless worm.” The insults had no effect on Callion except opening his eyes to how cruel his own race could be. Frankly, it disgusted eight year old Callion, but perhaps as he grew older, he would become more desensitized to it. Callion could not have been more wrong.
While his parents may have been a low class blow hard, and a nonviolent waste of Saiyan blood , the higher ups of the Saiyan Academy saw potential in the boy, and after much debating finally agreed to have him enrolled. At age eight and with a power level much higher than the one he had three years ago, Callion entered the Saiyan academy. The word “hell” was a bit of an understatement when used to describe Callion’s experience in that school. For eight long years he was forced to put up with a myriad of aggravating things. More pointless talk of pride, and a frustrating amount of correction on his sword technique. And to top it off, everyone just seemed disappointed in Callion. They all expected a lot from him with his kind of power level, but he never acted in rashness, or accepted any of their requests for a spar. Any prodding of “What kind of Saiyan are you?” was met with an exasperated sigh, and the occasional response of “One who doesn’t give a damn.” Only once did someone’s words enrage Callion to violence, and that had almost gotten the prideless child expelled from the academy. Little did Callion know, that that day would mark the beginning of his downfall.
Finally, after eight years of difficult training and needless conversations, Callion graduated from the Saiyan Academy. For the first three months after his graduation, Callion simply lazed about Planet Vegeta. Any attempts to incite the young man’s service from the recruiters for the Saiyan army were skillfully dodged. His father Courge however, didn’t care for his son’s lazing ways and decided to do something about. Following the traditional method for dealing with Saiyans that didn’t meet a certain standard, the low class blademaster had the prideless brat shipped off to another planet in the hopes of an increase in the latter’s power. The planet in question was known for being a gigantic desert home to a variety of bloodthirsty beasts known to strike fear into the hearts of species across the galaxy. All except for one species in particular. The Saiyans. They loved the thrill of daily brushes with death, and the beasts provided a tough but manageable opportunity to grow even more powerful. Most Saiyans had no knowledge of this planet, though recently heard of it from a Brenchian acquaintance of his, who made it a point to describe the potential danger any visitor would face while on that planet. Courge had found the perfect opportunity to whip his son into shape.
Unfortunately for the blade master, all this expedition had done was increase his son’s apathy toward combat, and mild dislike of the Saiyan people. What his father intended for his boy was a new appreciation for the glory of fighting to stay alive, and the appreciation of what it meant to be a Saiyan Elite. While many other Saiyans would've jumped at the chance of a three year excursion featuring ample opportunities to get yourself killed if it meant getting stronger as a result, but Callion wasn’t like many other Saiyans. One of the many things, he garnered from those three years of daily torture was one simple fact. There’s nothing amazing about combat. It’s something ugly and wretched. There was no glory in dying while fighting, and there certainly was no pride in being a bloodthirsty maniac. Callion realized something about his own race during those three years of “training.” His race placed too much pride in all of the wrong things. They shouldn’t have any pride in being Saiyans. They should’ve had pride in how strong each individual was. That day, Callion developed a dislike of being referred to as a Saiyan, and swore that he would never show pride in his race, and only value his own strength. Steeled by a new resolve, Callion attacked his training with renewed vigor.
Finally after three years of grueling conditioning, he returned home, only to find out that tragedy had struck. Upon entering his home, he found not the warm embrace of his mother or the queries of his strength from his father, but the sight of two familiar people’s carcasses lying in pieces all over his living quarters. His shocked eyes scanned the corpses only to find a note left on top of his father’s severed head. Reading it, Callion’s emotions became twisted with rage.
In clear blood that Callion could only assume to be his parent’s was scrawled a challenge to do battle, but any thoughts of fighting honorably were lost in Callion’s anger.
Deciding that revenge had to be taken against this unknown assailant, he sought out after the man, and upon finding him immediately engaged him. Callion, fueled with rage eventually won the battle and had the killer by the throat. He then proceeded to try and finish the man off, and flee the scene. Callion unfortunately failed to finish the job. Another Saiyan arrived in time for the killer to give his own version of the events that occurred before finally passing.
During this time Callion found his father's old pod, got into it, and with a few tears in his eyes over the loss of his only family, put in a series of random coordinates, and fled the planet. He knew he could never return, and quite honestly he didn’t care. That place would never be home. Better to drift the cosmos than go back to that awful hell.
Twenty four hours later, he would crash land on Planet Earth.
