Species in the World of Progress

Human:



QUOTE: "You ask me what I'm doing in SLA Industries. Huh, what? Just because I'm not a red monster or a psycho Ebon type thing, you think I'm just some sort of inferior weakling! Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you- but look around. The human race is everywhere, you guys would be lost without the benefits of 'mankind'. We're here on Mort- look down any street and see how many more humans there are compared to all the monsters SLA hires.
I mean you turn on the television and it's almost always human presenters and reporters. And do you know why that is? It's because we' re not as ugly, thick or just plain emotionally messed up as the rest of the races in the World of Progress."

INSIGHT: You were born in the backstreets of Mort, so when it came to the unseen laws of the urbanite, if you didn't know it, it wasn't worth knowing. You grew up around seedy slums, doused with filthy corruption. If anything went wrong or weird in Mort Central, it slipped down your street. You were raised amongst madmen and monsters- some working for SLA Industries, some against.
Either way, you knew SLA was for you. There is no exaltation, no pride or honour for you or your race. The humble classes of mankind are weak and stupid, the people of Downtown walk quietly beneath the shadows of Ebons and Stormers- your race is the underclass and you know it. It was your own fault for not evolving when you had the chance. However, you have found the bodies of nosey Ebons dumped under the Downtown walkways, Brain Wasters quietly tucked away in insane asylums, Shaktars and Stormers alike torn apart by horrific creations of industrial mutation and exhumed Wraith Raiders who just couldn't take the heat. You know no race is perfect.
Some say the human race is upstaged, but this is no time for crocodile tears and self pity. The human mind is versatile and adaptable to the rigours that progress demands. You knew the Stormers could kill you with a punch, but if brains were dynamite, they wouldn't have enough to blow themselves up. You stood by and watched the Ebon's sanity crumble under the pressure of their so-called 'great power'. To see the both sides of the human race is to be human, and your subtle understanding of life's infinite scope, variety and selection makes you worth as much, if not more than, any other breed of operative SLA hires.
Your race was born with the gift of choice

BACKGROUND: The sheer versatility of the human race makes it more significant than any other race or species hired by SLA. They are not typecast by any mental or emotional difficulties in the ways that other operatives are, although humans have a much wider emotional range from person to person. In this respect, it is very difficult to judge and evaluate an individual human. The human mind is a very complex and diverse product of nature, sometimes it can take years to analyse and study one particular mind. What is known about the majority of the human race is its ability to influence and manipulate others, especially those of their own kind.
SLA Industries' television network eagerly employs humans for the entertainments industry. Most of the human race have an active (sometimes over-active) imagination that never seems to cease in its technicolour output of ideas and imaginary concepts.
Mort and the World of Progress both have a high proportion of humans to other races.
Humans have also made worthy employees in SLA Industries. Many modest humans find work and careers as Shiver Unit Police, Corporate lackeys, Karma scientists etc- whilst out on the street the independent Monarch Law Enforcement Agency is completely manned by humans.
Despite the human mind's sophistication and variety, they have a tendency to ignore principles, a large percentage are selfish and ignorant. They are often easily manipulated and misguided. Humans can potentially be as emotionally disturbed and disordered as the Ebons and Brain Wasters. The majority of Downtown's serial killers are humans since feelings of inadequacy within mankind abound, especially in the face of other species. Humans have a terrible addiction that breeds insanity and manipulation -television- the drug that shapes and moulds an ever growing and expanding race.

APPEARANCE: The overall appearance of humans varies enormously from person to person, in a similar respect to Ebons and Brain Wasters. Both mentally and physically, humans differ drastically from one another. In height they commonly range from around 1.55m to 1.95m tall. Humans come in all shapes and sizes, short and fat, tall and thin, however, SLA Industries' rigorous training usually trims and shapes up the human physique. Human complexions are equally diverse, men and women are commonly white, black, brown and yellow. Like the Wraith Raider, human skin changes in shade and tone due to the climate and weather (a tendency to 'tan' in warm temperatures although skin has to be exposed to sunlight). The human hide, however, is not as resilient as that of the Stormers and Shaktars, nor are humans as naturally fit as the Wraith Raider species. This is mainly due to the urban environments that humans inhabit.
Mankind also have differing eye and hair colour. The human eye has a developed pupil and an iris that is usually blue, brown, green or grey that reacts heavily in a sudden change in light.

INTERACTION:
Humans on;
Frothers: "People confuse us humans with Frothers, yes, we are both a part of mankind, but there are a few subtle differences. One being that Frothers only last for about two years of being an operative, max., but hey, that's drugs for you."
Ebons: "Yeah, the Ebons are alright. They are so intelligent and provocative. I wish our species could express ourselves so naturally as they can. On the other hand, I don't think we're below them, after all, we don't turn into monsters."
Brain Wasters: "What happened to the Ebon race, huh? Why did they have to evolve Brain Wasters? The Brain Wasters make our society even more corrupt than it already is."
Stormers: "I've never been sure of Stormers. Im not sure, there's just something wrong with them, even although they're out there everyday on the street. It's just something... unnerving."
Shaktars: "They are amazing creatures with so much control. So stable in society yet so unstable in combat."
Wraith Raiders: "Wraith Raiders are so strange and slinky! And they always look at you like they're in on some joke you are not in on. That or like they know what you taste like, and they like it."
Advanced Carrien: "I've seen a kid get pulled into a sewer by a pack of Carrien and his screams are all I can think when I see one of them walking around like it's nothing, with a badge and a gun."

Frother:



QUOTE: "Regrets! Are you kiddin'? I love bein' a Frother, and all the drugs that go with it. Man, I was born with the puncture wounds right there on my arm... see? Yeah, you just wouldn't believes the kick I get outta combat. It's great man, you feel all the adrenaline startin' to flow, your frothin' glands kick in, ya shoot up your poison, you feel the rush and then it's bye bye Mr. Sanity. I mean, once it's in, your out man- until someone goes down. All you can see is this kinda like, red haze and your 'clan dreads' flickin' about your face and the sonovabitch goin' down under your claymore, yeah! By the time, you're finished with the last 'hard case' you're up to your knees in 'em. The rush, man, there ain't nothin' like it."

INSIGHT: Out there on the streets of Downtown, you've seen the slime and sleaze, you've the tension and boredom of the lower classes. To you, there was only one form of escape, one short and safe route to bliss. When it came to happiness, you knew where to look, when the time came to feed your addiction, your poison. Sometimes it was pleasure and paradise, other times it was protection and power, you had even tried a few drug cocktails in your time. Either way, it got you by in Downtown like nothing else could. Some people were stupid enough to call you a 'junkie', but it was so much more to you, You were a connoisseur. You knew the good from the bad, the strong from the weak, the pleasure drug from the combat drug. You weren't just a plain, old 'drug addict', they would shoot up with window cleaner if it would give them a kick. No, with you, it was different, you were a better judge than that. You would only inject the best, the specific drug for the desired effect. The problem was the cost and your needs were expensive to say the least, especially on the black market. As money got tight, you turned to theft and robbery. Then, finally, the Monarch Police caught you during a raid. You knew what this meant, life imprisonment or the death penalty, but just before you gave up all hope and 'cold turkey' began, a corporate from SLA Industries appeared with the money and authority to pull you out. The guy in the black suit came to your cell and made you an offer, you could either rot in your cell and die or join SLA Industries, become a Frother and have legal access to the best soft and hard company drugs in the world of Progress. As the corporate left you to make your decision, you suddenly realised that prison cell grey wasn't really your shade.

BACKGROUND: The Frother operative is a 'combat drug junkie' in the simplest terms. He is an expert in the application of soft and hard drugs. Frothers live a wild life of chemical madness, they live for their  addiction and most have gone all the way to 'Ultra Violence', SLA Industries' most powerful and self destructive combat drug ever created.
Drugs make the Frother what they are, the lethal narcotics affect their minds and bodies to an equal extent. Frothers are basically humans who have joined SLA Industries due to their drug addiction. Most are initially delinquents and gang members from Downtown areas, all aging between 16-20 years old, all in desperate need of help. The drugs in SLA Industries and the World of Progress are very addictive, most youths start out in control of their habit and the more they 'shoot up', the more fixated they become. As always, sooner or later the money will run out since nobody beyond even Suburbia can afford to feed their expensive habits, so the addicts join SLA Industries simply to survive.
SLA Industries watches the Downtown/Suburbia regions as closely as possible. Internals are everywhere- analysing the drug pushers and their chemical progress, considering the individuals with mental and physical potentials for becoming Frother operatives. Frothers are one of the few classes that SLA Industries actively headhunts- a large percentage of Frother operatives are brought to SLA through unfortunate circumstances.
On the other hand, there are some Frothers who were born into the position. Over the centuries, Frothers have slowly become a breed unto themselves. The young Frothers are born with enhanced strength and physique due to their parents, and their grandparents daily consumption of company narcotics. These Frothers were born for the drug experience. Due to this unnatural upbringing, many Frother families have grown into proper clans. The rule of the drug has become a tradition, a birthright. The Clan Frothers carry Power Claymores as a symbol of their family, their parents who nurtured them in the World of Progress with chemical love.

APPEARANCE: The name 'Frother' is derived from the operative's tendency to salivate and drool like rabid dogs while under the influence of company drugs like Rush and Ultra Violence. Most Frothers hired by SLA Industries are very combat orientated, tending to opt for hand-to-hand weapons like Power Claymores, which were designed and created specifically for the Frothers' use. The Frothers are a very physical breed of human, similar in many respect to ancient berserkers. Frothers tend to go insane in combat, charging in and lashing out with their two-handed swords. They seem to know no fear in battle. Frothers take a lot of inspiration from ancient costume and traditions, draping their armour with decorative tartans and kilts, their overall appearance can be quite unique. The typical Frother is a visual 'Trouble Beacon' since they mash their long straggly hair into shocking sticky dreadlocks with thick, bright and colourful paints, this makes the Frother look mean, aggressive and not just a little insane. For them, there is no point to camouflage, and the television viewers of Mort's masses love them. The drug addict cares not who sees him. The Frother has to make a visual and physical impact before the drugs wear off, or he dies.
The overall sight of such crusty, colourful and kilted maniacs, foaming profusely at the mouth and charging insanely at the enemy with nothing but a sword and a war cry is disturbing to say the least.
The typical Frother is tall, well-built (more so than the normal human) and obviously physically enhanced by the drugs, yet, there are some who are Frothers in the loosest terms, taking no part in kilts and clans, they are simply operative drug pushers.

INTERACTION:
Frothers on;
Humans: "What do you think of humans? I am a human! We've just changed, y'know, what with all the drugs and stuff. Its just that Frothers don't usually go in for all that investigatin' and business lifestyle."
Ebons: "Nah, they're too damn mellow for their own good and the fact that every thin' in life's got a meanin' to Ebons, it's all crap, they should just take some of our stuff and just get plain mean."
Brain Wasters: "Aw, jeez, I hate Brain Wasters, they're nothin' man. All they got goin' for them is that they got real big mouths. It's really funny though when their flux runs out, they ain't so big and hard then."
Shaktars: "Now, they're cool. They are seriously hard dudes with great hair. I love all that honour they've got goin' for them an' stuff. People oughtta be more like the Shaktars. There just ain't enough pride for yer race in the World of Progress."
Stormers: "I think they're kinda like weird mixtures o' us and the Shaktars. Big, fulla teeth and drool lots. Yeah, I just wish I could regenerate like them, they're kinda cool."
Wraith Raiders: "The chilly dudes? I'm not sure, they're too sneaky and fast. They're okay kinda guys an' all but there's just too many damn Wraith Raider snipers y'know. Takes all the fun outta fightin'."
Advanced Carrien: "Honestly, I've seen weirder dudes around wearing suits."

Ebon:



QUOTE:- "Do not be fooled by the harsh temperament of our brutal cousins, the Brain Wasters. We are not the same, we follow the teachings of Intruder. We live by our feelings and we are blessed with the power of Ebb. This precious gift gives purpose to our lives. In the World of Progress all thrive for advancement and the Ebon race is no different. We search for knowledge and learning is the source of our advancement. In the ruthless regime of SLA Industries, the truth and all it's enlightening secrets wait for the gifted to uncover the great knowledge written in the form of Glyphs.

INSIGHT:- You have grown up in a world of inspiration and imagination. From the day of your birth, your Ebon parents have taught you to express your emotions. You are an Ebon and you have a gift, it is the power of Ebb, the essence of your race. You are not like your aggressive and selfish kin, the Brain Wasters. It is not brutality, savagery or suppression that lead to power. To you, the course of wisdom is a spiritual and deeply symbolic path of learning, truth and understanding. On the shady back streets of Mort lie Glyph cards scattered like the remnants of a dead society. These objects of desire are alluring but illegal and to join SLA Industries is justice and advancement personified. In SLA Industries, you will be trained to your full potential at the Institute of Ebb, a Meny Training facility, and receive your Science Friction DeathSuit that will slowly and lovingly become part of you, just as you will become part of SLA Industries and its Ebon family. The society within SLA Industries also accommodates the father of the Ebon race, Intruder. You are drawn to him as if he were a long lost brother to you. Intruder is your guide and one day you may have his potential but until then, you must live up to the expectations of the Preceptor Teeth, a harsh and unforgiving Necanthrope. Between the two Ebon races, your breed is the more reluctant to turn and the Necanthropes watch you very closely as if you are not the only one with thoughts on your future.

BACKGROUND:- Ebons have a broad family hierarchy including both Ebons and Brain Wasters, connected primarily by title and house. Such houses birth Ebons and Brain Wasters seemingly randomly, despite their best efforts to direct a particular option. Families are divided into two units, one Ebon and one Brain Waster, with Necanthropes ruling over the entire family and its affairs. Ebons believe that the genetic strain or bloodline knows best how to raise and guide a child rather than birth parents, so if two Ebon parents, for example, have a Brain Waster child they will be heartbroken and forced to make a choice: attempt to raise a potentially violent and unruly Waster or elect to have the child reared by the Wasters within the family. The latter tends to be the norm. Such family matters are troublesome, leading to feuds and strife. It is typically the overseeing Necanthrope who has final say on how the child shall be raised. If the parents refuse to heed the demand of a Necanthrope they may find themselves banished from their Ebonite House.
Feral Ebons raised in Downtown tend to come from parents that were outcast from Static for some crime or social failure and as such have a much deeper understanding of the realities of the street than their cousins that hail directly from Static, having been raised in gangs, scrabbling for Glyph Cards instead of illegal firearms.
The vast majority of the Ebon race are good natured, well mannered and polite as if it had been born to them. They are raised to progress and advance to their full capabilities. An Ebon will never stop the search for knowledge and enlightenment. It is their driving, force and the reason for their existence. The typical Ebon is poetic, inquisitive, tragic and impulsive and everything that happens in their life is symbolic, all circumstances have meaning and reason. Most Ebons are strong believers in fate and destiny.
If an Ebon, for example, sees a small boy fall over in a rainy street, they will relate to the boy and the scene. The street represents the Ebon's life and the injured boy is like the Ebon, who feels for the child's pain and sorrow. The Ebon is a fallen infant in the watery streets of Mort and the constant rain signifies the intervention of Necanthropes in the Ebon's mind, the icy drizzle makes the wound sting. The injury symbolises the Ebon's vulnerable nature which the cold salty rain of Necanthrope Society will always find and seep into. This emotional and often traumatic train of thought rules and controls the Ebon's life, they live for meaning and even social circumstances are clues to progression, experience is a source of divine wisdom.
Ebons live by their feelings and, as a result, they are an extremely emotional and highly strung race. Each Ebon is a mood,  incarnate. Many base their existence around a particular emotion, some even name themselves after them. The broad difference  and variation of feelings and outlooks create vast dividing lines between the race- yet they can all be recognised for one thing, and that is the intensity of whatever emotion they embody.
The manipulation and understanding of Ebb is as important to the Ebon race as the philosophy and symbolism of their lives. Ebb abilities and talents enhance the Ebon's capabilities, mentally and physically. An Ebon will explore the various elements contained in Ebb, in order to gain experience and therefore advance.
Life and its meaning is all just one big puzzle, one which the Ebon will devote all their time to solving, at any cost. All the clues in the whole of the World of Progress can be tied down to SLA Industries. To an Ebon, SLA Industries is a gargantuan library full of ground breaking secrets, hidden from operatives and the public alike, within these extracts of truth are power and progress, but with such great benefits can come great hazards. Extracts of truth hold poison too and many Ebons have died before their time through nothing more than their inquisitive nature, strangled by the hands of Internal Affairs and Cloak Division.
Ebons must advance through knowledge. They must do so with caution, stealth and eternal patience.

APPEARANCE:- To be standing in the company of an Ebon should be like standing in the presence of an angel, and even without the Illumination talent, they still seem to stand out in a crowd and shine. Ebons are a blaze of bright and vibrant colours with a rich impact, yet as subtle and intricate as the delicate personalities and outlooks they personify. Is is actually very rare to see an Ebon with normal skin tones and hair like browns or blondes. Abnormal is normal for an Ebon. They may sport pillar box red, sky blue and ultra violet hair together with egg white, pastel pink and electric blue eyes devoid of irises or pupils. An Ebon's skin tones are about the only resemblance they bear to their cousins, the Brain Wasters. A pale, gaunt complexion is common with both Ebon races, although the normal Ebon's skin is refined rather than unhealthy. Male Ebons have very little body hair unlike the Brain Wasters who always seem to have a five o' clock shadow even after they have shaved. Female Ebons have a complexion most human females would kill for. Their skin is soft, smooth and unblemished without make-up. An Ebon's appearance is their emblem or insignia, their ornate and finely detailed DeathSuits always correspond with their wearer's body. Some say that the Ebon DeathSuit has a style and sophistication all of its own. Never has mass-produced clothing been so supremely individual.
Names are very important to Ebons, whatever they are called or known as is important to their lifestyle - hence, names like Pastel, Swan, Geist, Crystal, Shine and Chapel are common.

INTERACTION:
Ebons on;
Humans: "The humans are to be admired for their influential and inspiring nature. It is a shame that the human race chose a different path of evolution to us. Our species is so close both in mind and body."
Frothers: "Like the Brain Wasters are a shameful part of our race, the Frothers are of the humans. They are loud and ignorant, a truly obnoxious breed with the foolish audacity to destroy their own bodies and minds for fun."
Brain Wasters: "We grieve that we are related to the Brain Wasters. They disgrace our kind with their destructive tendencies and brutal temperament. We take no responsibility for the Brain Waster philosophy."
Stormers: "The Stormers try so hard to fit into society, to understand moral values and emotional reasoning. I act upon the kindness of my race and intend to give the Stormers all the help they need in order to become people rather than the monsters they are condemned as."
Shaktars: "Although their appearance is dark and forbidding, the Shaktars are an honourable and noble race that all should take as an example."
Wraith Raiders: "The Wraith Raiders are a strange and slender race that hold much mystery and so much feral insight. There is great cunning and instinct behind their cold, blood red eyes. They are here to be favoured and feared."
Advanced Carrien: "They wear their horrifying upbringing like a shroud over their quiet and meek presence."

Brain Waster:



QUOTE: "Hey, you starin' at me. Well, if you are, you'd better be kneeling. You see these eyes, huh? Yeah, pretty aren't they, these are Brain Waster eyes. I'm a Brain Waster, an' don't you forget it 'cause i'm the best of my race an' don't any of those girlie Ebons tell you otherwise. Always goin' on about how god-damn provocative they are, well we were here first. Brain Wasters are intense, were so goddamn intense our eyes are charred. There's nothin' as powerful as us, nothin' as violent either, that's why were favoured, see? By the Necanthropes, our elders, I'm gonna be one someday. . . Hey, why I'm talking to you, inferior! I'm gonna take you apart you sonovabitch !"

INSIGHT: The day you were born, your parents feared and hated you, they saw your eyes, black and charred, even then they knew you would grow to become a Brain Waster. When you were six, your parents tried to reform you by giving you a pet kitten, you killed it. There wasn't much left to dispose of, just a charred skeleton. Then, at ten years' old, there was school, a period of your life where playground friends were in distinct shortage due to your asocial nature. No one ever understood you and the violence building up inside you. Bullies were never a problem to you- if anything you were the bully. You thrived on your supremacy, your power, even then you knew you you were one of the chosen. Your purpose was to rise up from your inferiors, quench your thirst for power and join SLA Industries. Once inside the power structure, you would follow the dark and sacred path of the preceptor and become a Necanthrope, the final and most powerful stage of Ebon being. Food, rest, love and compassion are of little consequence and nourishment to you. Power is your need so you must progress through beating and abusing others with the force of your Ebb, your joy of destruction. You are no longer a child, now you are a Brain Waster, and no one must ever ignore you again.

BACKGROUND: In nature, Brain Wasters are asocial and arrogant to some degree, most have a superiority complex especially towards those lack the power of Ebb such as humans, who the Brain Wasters regard as the lesser race, in most cases. There is also much social discomfort between Brain Wasters and the Ebons. The reasons for this animosity are wide and varied, Brain Wasters despise the Ebons temperament most, as well as their emphasis on expressing their feelings. Brain Wasters express themselves too, but their output is a great deal more savage. A Brain Waster's emotions are unstable, aggressive and violent if given reason, hence a large majority of the Brain Waster population are extroverted as they hate to be ignored or taken for granted. A Brain Waster has to be the centre of attraction. Another reason for hatred of the Ebon race is their stable temperament and to that extent their stability towards matters that the Brain Waster cannot control. He is naturally unstable and will more often than not seek aggression and violence as an answer to regular problems.
Physically, Brain Wasters are as disheveled as they are mentally, they suffer an unpleasantly high metabolism. This physical isorder means the Brain Waster will have to eat and sleep more than the usual to sustain themselves, which makes the Brain
Wasters even more irritable and antisocial. They are naturally hyperactive.
Despite their dislike for the Ebons, Brain Wasters are very proud of what they are and their ability to use the power of Ebb. In this respect the two races are akin, although Brain Wasters tend to burn their flux upon purely forceful and destructive areas of Ebb abilities because they naturally lack the internal peace and control central to command their ebb to manifest in more complex manners.
Brain Wasters survey most other races with contempt, and regard them as inferior due to their lack of Ebb ability and their need for order, honour and compassion. Some have said that rather than contempt for others, it is more likely to be a deep and disguised form of jealousy. A Brain Wasters inability to accept that they are tearing their own minds apart for power, to the great pleasure of the Necanthropes, whose needs are always all-consuming.

APPEARANCE: In appearance, Brain Wasters are usually tall, well built and oppressive looking characters. Like their Ebon cousins, their hair colour and style tends to be an externalization of their inner emotions, leading to a wild variety of looks that still tend towards the foreboding. They tend towards the unshaven and somewhat unkempt. Like Ebons their complexion is pale and often undernourished thanks to their high metabolism. However one true redeeming feature of the Brain Waster which separates him from all other races is his eyes, they are strange and unnerving, charred black around the eyelids with pure white and red eyes to looking luminous and shocking. This burnt flesh pattern around the eyes is something the Brain Waster is born with that allows him or her to be recognised as an individual.
Although most Brain Wasters have a great concern for their appearance, some neglects respectability and hygiene in order to provoke fear and dislike in others.
It is also noted that even in a good mood a Brain Waster always seems to frown and tense their facial muscles, twitches and ticks being common.

INTERACTION:
Brain Wasters on;
Humans: "They're weak, stupid and powerless but what do you expect from the lesser race. We left them behind centuries ago. They kind of went stale and stagnant in the wake of progress."
Ebons: "Look, don't even talk to me about Ebons. They are pathetically weak and emotionally retarded. Ebons let feelings drag them down, while we are free and nothing can stop us. Nothing."
Frothers: "You mean the Junkies-in-Skirts? Hah, what a sad collection of droolers. These guys couldn't control their bladders let alone their salivary glands."
Shaktars: "Wow! Now, they're hard. Big red crazy aliens who are into all that loyalty an' honour stuff. They're pretty weird guys. Fast as hell, too."
Stormers: "Nah. We don't hassle the Stormers, much. They ain't just big. If you mow them down, they just get back up, real quick. Stormers are all teeth and claws. You just don't want to see these guys get mad, they make Frothers look like school girls."
Wraith Raiders: "Heh, heh, the call of the wild. Aww, the Wraith Raiders are, like, dead cute. Kinda like big teddy bears that go for your fridge at a party."
Advanced Carrien: "Man, they are even letting the target practice in now?"

Stormer 313 "Malice"



QUOTE: "I work for SLA Industries. They made me. Karma, I mean, yeah, Biogenetics, that is what I am made of. Strong stuff, I am strong, my teeth and claws are sharp, they cut people in half. I am not mad, I only kill when I am told to. I want to be as good as Taarnish, the first Stormer. He is smart, smaller than me, I mean. People think we are like Shaktars, we are not. When we are shot, we rege... we get better, with out help. I talk to people, I like people, but not Brain Wasters. At the Pit, they call me a 'gun-head', I am not a gun-head. I carry my gun in my hand."

INSIGHT: You were never born, you were created. Your first waking memory was the tank, it was like a deep red haze. Outside the thick glass, you could see the scientists milling around, stepping over coils of tubes and pipes leading back to your tank and others. On either side of your womb-like container, Stormers in biogenetic vessels float, curled into the fetal position in the slumber which you have just awakened from. As you fully regain consciousness, the tubes inserted into your body disconnect and float away. Slowly, you rise to the surface of the tank, and the bright light hits you for the first time. As you climb out of the tank, the scientists take notice and come to your aid. One hoses you down as you are naked and dripping with liquid protein from the bio-tank. In this laboratory, there are four hundred tanks, containing Stormers in varying stages of development. You are finished, complete. On your forearm, you notice a DNA bar code with the numbers '313' tattooed onto your steel-like muscles. The bio-scientists that bustle around you are a good few feet shorter than you and a great deal weaker. Instinctively, you know that with one punch or claw, you could kill one of them. Instantly, you know where to hit them, as if it were second nature. They tell you that you are a product of SLA Industries, Karma Biogenetics, a Stormer designed to destroy Company Rivals and other minorities that threaten your creators.

BACKGROUND: The Stormer Project is the foundation from which much of SLA Industries was built as a company. The manufacture of the original 313 ‘Malice’ Stormer was sold to countless Conflict Races as the very pinnacle of biogenetics. The Stormers were instantly bought en masse and performed their duties well – perhaps a little too well…
Other rival companies have tried to create their own bio-engineered organisms, with little to no success. Even when such enemies of SLA have kidnapped Karma technicians and forced them to reproduce their original product, they have been unable to match it. There is some secret component that lies at the very earliest stage of Stormer conception and it cannot be replicated outside of Karma’s development facilities. The most anyone outside of Head Office refers to the process calls it ‘Death Wake’, but anything beyond this is pure flight of fancy, increasingly elaborate rumours and hearsay.
All Stormers are large, strong and powerfully built creatures. Their bones are as tough as steel, their muscles and body tissue can regenerate without any medical aid or Ebon Healing necessary. Originally the Stormers were created for the sole purpose of combat- however the World of Progress has evolved since the extinction of the Conflict Societies. In todays' more sophisticated environment, particularly on Industrial Worlds, the Stormers' roles are more humane and civilised. The public who live in the World of Progress have been raised in the presence of Stormers. They see the Stormer more as a protector rather than a monster.
People see them everyday doing normal, everyday things. Stormers are not of human intelligence, though they are smart enough to take BPNs, be generally sociable and act as respectable operatives for SLA Industries should. Stormers are not monsters, they are genetically created for combat and defending the company. When in social circumstances, the Stormers will act as normally as they can (maybe slightly aggressive, they will get nasty if you call them stupid) and will visit and drink in the Pit like any other operative hired by SLA Industries.
Despite their monstrous appearance, SLA have attempted to give Stormers intended for use as Operatives as many human characteristics as possible, like jumping up to any 'heavy' songs that come on at the Pit, although the dance floor usually empties at this point, as Stormers have a tendency to get carried away- but they usually only cause minor injuries.

APPEARANCE: The Stormer appears as a huge, hulking brute of up to 2.60m tall, built heavily with large thick muscles that cover his/her entire body, even a Stormer's fingers are muscular. Stormers are humanoid in shape, but are crowned with grim and menacing heads filled with long sharp teeth and wide staring eyes. Their overall facial appearance resembles that of a skinned horse due to the long and equine shape of their heads.
Stormers lips do not meet, and their teeth are always bared so the Stormers tend to drool and snort which makes them even more horse-like.
This is the average appearance of a 313 Stormer, but they are not clones, and despite a casual observer often failing to see the differences, their attention mostly claimed by the more monstrous qualities of Stormers, each Stormer is physically and behaviorally unique. In addition over the 900 years of development there have been numerous  variations, small modifications in style. Longer claws, narrower and wider builds and sometimes the injection of foreign DNA into the main strands have caused the entire body to alter as a result. All changes to these Stormer variants have been minor, only really changing in style, colour or appearance. In spite of this, Karma intends to produce proper variants and upgrades, that enhance the Stormers physical and mental capabilities beyond the normal genetic limits.
The traditional Stormers, the 313's, are still the most popular and reliable operatives.

INTERACTION:
Stormers on;
Humans: "Yes, humans are alright."
Frothers: "Frothers are good, yes, in combat. Frothers talk to much, shut up."
Ebons: "I like Ebons, they are kind and talk to me, they show how to talk polite."
Brain Wasters: "I hate Brain Wasters, they are rude to me, call me names, so I hurt them."
Stormer 711 "Xeno": "Little brothers! They are smarter than me and their skin can change!"
Shaktars: "They are good fighters and have good codes. People think we are alike, we are not."
Wraith Raiders: "Wraith Raiders are okay, but slippery and fast."
Advanced Carrien: "They look like the targets they make you shoot at Meny."

Stormer 711 "Xeno"



QUOTE: “Do not be afraid of the way I look. I’m just like you, only better. Now, do you want to be killed with the MAC Knife or the Flick Scythe?”
Grandmaster Stabb, 711 Xeno, Contract Killer

INSIGHT: You awaken. You hear a sucking sound, distant muted voices and feel thick synthetic amniotic liquid draining away from your body. You are now fully conscious and your visual array shows you everything in the room; the Karma scientists rushing around the rows upon rows of tall glass cylinders and the enormous Stormers contained in each one. These are 313 ‘Malice’ Stormers. Much different from you, in almost every way. You are smaller, leaner than these clumsy brutes and despite being a just a few minutes old, you know you are special; you have value. You were meant for great things. You glance at your hands and with a split second’s concentration your skin’s pigment adapts to match colour on the glass, the metal ridges: interesting. You examine your claws and scratch the surface of the container with a fine groove, which pleases you as you imagine what it will do to a human eyeball.
A Karma technician is lifting the lid to your own container and reaches in to help you out, but you push his hand away; as if you
of all things need any help. You exit the tank in two fluid motions and land deftly on the laboratory floor. You glance at the gathering technicians, outstretching a hand and uttering your first word - ‘towel.’
There’s no time to waste. You don’t have time for all the inductions and ceremonies, you want to get trained up as quickly as possible, ace your education and fast track to Operative status. You have goals to meet, places to be and enemies of SLA to kill.

BACKGROUND: For centuries, 313 ‘Malice’ Stormers have represented the muscle and backbone of the company, but subtlety was far beyond their capabilities. SLA Industries wanted a new design that could master covert missions and assassinations, a Stormer that could slip unseen into an enemy base and eliminate a threat as quickly and quietly as possible. It was a tall order: the division which created Stormer types, Phantom Pregnancy had enjoyed enormous success in the developing large, brutal and unstoppable creatures but designing a new type that had a more advanced approach would take considerable effort and ngenuity.
The new 711 project took almost ten years to complete, as Phantom Pregnancy struggled to create a sustainable Stormer type that met the requirements SLA had set forth. Two prominent scientists in the field of Biogenetics were brought in to helm development - Dr Maxon Hagen, from the Department of Zoology came in to assist the project leader Dr Nathan Coen. The new Stormer would combine numerous strains of animal DNA -the complex goal was a new form of killing machine that would be smarter and more self-reliant than the standard Malice, be more agile, move quietly and could blend with its surroundings. There were countless attempts to perfect the Stormer and with each misstep Maxon’s position within the project strengthened. His ruthlessness and sinister cunning seemed to galvanise the monster that finally came to fruition, a monster that wasn’t so very different from himself. The final product was far from an oil painting. It was easily one of the most bizarre creations to ever merge from the Karma Labs. It had insect-like compound eyes, a dome shaped skull, an immensely tough hide that adapted to any environment.
There is a rumour that a terrified junior bioengineer nicknamed it the Xeno because of its outlandish appearance, but there is another darker tale that suggests Maxon sneaked the DNA of a known Conflict Alien Race into the mix which held to bind the competing DNA-strands together, where all previous attempts had failed. This rumour has never been verified and since the Xeno’s success, Dr Hagen has not received a summons from Cloak Division, so far.
As the Xeno went into full manufacture, a few personality traits began to seep through in the 711 model. Being somewhat more intelligent than the familiar 313 Malice, it developed something of an arrogant attitude that rubbed fellow Operatives the wrong way. Xenos are a unique, well-crafted example of bioengineering and not only do they know it, they are very quick to remind everyone of the fact. Xenos were built to perform assassinations and they develop an intense love of the kill, leading some to suspect that there may be some Wraith Raider DNA in the mix. Xenos and Wraiths react to each other in extremis: they either bond instantly or utterly despise each other and unfortunately it tends towards the later. If there are both species in a squad they will bicker constantly and continual try to one-up each other at every opportunity.
Xenos are very much driven by status and praise. They love the SCL system put in place at SLA Industries and they are always
eager to climb the ladder. This does not mean that a Xeno is focused on being squad leader, they simply want a badge that states they have a higher number than anyone else around them. Off duty Xenos live much the same as any Op, spending their downtime in The Pit drinking and bragging about their past achievements, or browsing weapon retail stores and drooling over the newest, sexiest deadly weapon on the market.
Some Xenos do tend to ‘calm down’ after a few years of employment and gradually come to accept their fellow squad members as more than just opponents and underlings, which has led to the belief that there may be as much naivety in Xenos as there is arrogance. They are developed to kill for SLA and it can take time for them to understand the people around them have feelings and interior lives; that there may be more to life than just winning, killing and winning at killing.

APPEARANCE: The Xeno model (pronounced Ze-no) supposedly gets its name from its absurdly alien appearance, particularly in the shape of the skull and the complex array of large compound eyes dotted around the upper surface, giving a wider field of vision. Like all Stormers, the Xeno has a lipless set of jaws exposing sharp wedge-shaped teeth, which tend to be lighter and smoother than that of the 313 Malice. They have digitigrade legs which allow them to sprint at increased speed compared to plantigrades. Xenos are not as large nor heavily built as other Stormer types, their primary design feature is stealth so they are grown with lithe, slender bodies but are nonetheless highly muscular.
Xenos have adaptive skin which allows them to blend with their surroundings. More recent, upgraded Xeno models can control the ability and decide whether or not to blend with the scenery. This feature was added when the 711 type became popular in the
Contract Circuit and Xenos wanted to be seen, so they can switch their skin pigment to more garish colours in order to ‘stand out’. Whichever way the Stormers wish to present themselves they prefer not to wear armour and rely on their tough leathery skin. On a typical kill mission the Xeno approaches the target undressed and unarmoured so the Stormer has been designed with a series of organic pockets and pouches dotted around its body. More recently, many more Xenos prefer to display more of a personal identity, wearing coats and accessories, relying more heavily on their basic stealth skills and ranged attacks. For the more traditionalist, there are ten pockets integrated onto the 711: two each on the thigh (160x210mm), lower leg (120x300mm), chest (120x120mm), abdomen (150x180mm) and one on each upper arm (110x230mm). These pockets bind with the Xeno’s body when not in use.

INTERACTION:
Xeno on;
Humans: "They created me. What more can I say?"
Frothers: "Single-minded. Unbalanced. I tend to steer clear of them and their drugs."
Ebons: "The mind of the Ebon is a powerful thing, but they lack physical stature."
Brain Wasters: "Very brutish. Having Ebon-powers makes them untrustworthy."
Shaktars: "The Shaktars have the right idea. Fast and deadly."
Wraith Raiders: "The Wraith Raiders are almost as good as I am at what they do. I respect them for their speed and cunning but in the end, they are only born, not made."
Stormers: "Although they have the power and some of my intelligence, they are not assassins. They are soldiers. Very good soldiers.
Advanced Carrien: "Fascinating to see one of the lowest species uplifted to Operator-status."

Shaktar:



QUOTE: "The days of war are long gone. I am a Shaktar, a warrior. We are one of the last races of many. The Shaktars of old fought in the Conflict Wars. It was the first and the last time we ever accepted defeat. We could not conquer SLA Industries. The ancient Shaktars were wise, they prepared for our arrival by joining with SLA Industries, they had sense. Now we have power, strength and life. We still have our traditions, our beliefs and our honour as warriors. All of our enemies of old are now extinct. They battled, without reason, whereas the Shaktar race understood the Big Picture. Here today, I am a SLA operative and still a Shaktarian warrior. I destroy the enemies of SLA Industries with great pride."

INSIGHT: You were raised on one of the unsparing and unrelenting Tribe Worlds, home to your race, the Shaktars. From the day you were born, you were taught to fight and revel in the midst of combat. You were taught to respect your elders as the great warriors they were and are. Unlike the Wraith Raider species, parenthood and family trust are very important to you. You must work and fight hard to fill the boots once worn by your exalted relatives. From an early age, you were taught the Shaktarian traditions and, most importantly, the code of honour. Once you have learned the Shaktarian attitude, you are noble, trustworthy and dignified, the weak willed and dishonourable offspring of your race do not survive. Your elders are steadfast in the ancient traditions and merciless against those who do not conform and are disrespecful towards the Shaktarian Code.
Once you have come of age, you must prepare and ready yourself for the Exalted Challenge. You are given the sacrificial dagger and sent to face and kill the sacred Shahantian bull, the primary horns on it's bovine head are your exalted trophy of distinction and maturity. As you bear the horns of adulthood from the slaughtered bull, you wear them as a proud warrior crown. Now you have proved yourself to your race, you are ready to leave the mountain cities of the Tribe World and join SLA Industries, as an operative and Shaktarian Warrior. You have heard stories of Mort City and the people who live there. There are tales of corruption, treachery and dishonour. The Shaktarian Elders expect you to venture into the heart of SLA and uphold the cherished values instilled in you from birth. You will educate and you will discipline, with words and sabre.

BACKGROUND: The Shaktars are an ancient race of warriors from the Conflict War era. Many uneducated individuals believe them to be barbaric and savage. These people are foolishly deceived, the Shaktars are a proud, honourable and dignified species. They will always protect their friends to the death, never attack anyone of lesser attributes than themselves without direct orders, and they will always uphold the name and honour of their family and trusted friends. The Shaktarian code of honour and family they are part of is very important to them and they will let no-one slander or corrupt their name or value. The young Shaktars have great respect for their elders, especially those who conceived them as well as their appraised High Lord Shahanti, who over watches their race. The elder Shaktars were once brave and loyal warriors renowned for their valour and courage. It is expected of the Shaktar offspring to follow in their honourable footsteps and become the proud and powerful warriors that their elders once
were.
Shaktars have strong faith and trust in their capabilities as warriors. It is common for a Shaktar to take an 'oath' in the face of combat, particulary if the odds are not in the favour of their present company. They will state their intention to the party and don the 'braid of oaths'. This is a ceremonial scarf that a Shaktar will wear if he has undertaken an oath, which shall not be removed unless they have succeeded in their task or have died trying. For non-Shaktars, it is a great honour to be given a braid of friendship. This is a symbol of the Shaktar's total trust in the individual. The braid of friendship also acts as a form of protection. Not many people will hassle a close friend of a Shaktar.
Shaktars very rarely enter small physical disputes like fisticuffs or bar room brawls. Usually a Shaktar will battle to the death and never retreat. Retreating is a sign of cowardice- Shaktar elders were never frightened and they would be thoroughly ashamed of
a young Shaktar if he ran. Every Shaktar's dream is to die in combat. To die of natural causes is a great disappointment to the  race.
Shaktars lifespan is comparatively long- most survive until the age of 170. When young Shaktars join SLA Industries, they are often in their mid-thirties and from there, their abilities will not falter through age until they are well over the age of 120.
The Shaktar race regard 7 as a sacred and symbolic number, since the First Tribe World, Kn'nth, is surrounded by seven moons. The Shaktar society is heavily based around the number seven- even their code of honour has seven themes; Honour, Family,
Friends, Truth, Faith, Loyalty and Purity. As the Shaktars come of age, they must prove themselves to their elders. In order to enter adulthood, all young warriors must accept the Exalted Challenge. On the various Tribe Worlds, there is a special, brutish breed of bovine called the Shahantian bulls. They are heavy, stalwart and temperamental beast that the Shaktars must defeat to prove themselves. Shahantian bulls have three sets of horns and upon beating the animal, the Shaktar keeps the small front horns as a symbolic trophy. They are now a true warrior and may leave the Tribe Worlds to join SLA Industries to face new challenges but never forgetting their ancient traditions.

Shaktar Code of Honour
1- Honour
Uphold the honour of the Shaktar race. Respect the true warriors of your race.
2- Family
Respect your elders. Your parents gave you your life. You are prepared to return it at their demand.
3- Friends
Accept as friends only those to whom you own a debt of honour or place a great trust in. Never distrust a friend unless they openly betray you. Defend the Life and honour of your friends as if it were your own.
4-Truth
Never lie to anyone worthy of your trust unless ordered to by a superior.
5- Faith
Complete any task you undertake. Act to the best of your ability. Show others you are undertaking a duty by wearing your ceremonial scarf.
6- Loyalty
Obey anyone you accept as a superior. Act as an ambassador of the race at all times.
7- Purity
Uphold the purity of the Shaktar race.

APPEARANCE: The typical Shaktar has an odd and oppressive appearance. Their stature and build is similar to that of a Stormer- they are tall aliens, well built and evolved in the shape of a warrior beast. A Shaktar's skin is scaly like a reptile, similar to that of
an alligator or a crocodile yet it is the colour of human blood. Their skin is contrasted by their sinister, keen yellow eyes that some find rather intimidating. The most noticeable features of a Shaktar's head are the thick, fleshy strands, similar to dreadlocks, that drape the length of his back and the bizarre mandible-like lips that adorn both sides of their sharp, toothy jaws. Shaktars also have long, thick, prehensile tails that sway and coil tensely if the owner is getting aggressive. The Shaktarian language is a tricky and almost incomprehensible language to grasp and learn, the main dialogue comprising of throaty and guttural speech lacking in vowels. However, rough translations litter the speech with human vowels.

INTERACTION:
Shaktars on;
Humans: "They are intelligent beings but lack strength and vigilance."
Frother: "The Frothers make good warriors but have no control."
Ebons: "Ebons are gifted people but are too easily misled by Necanthropes."
Brain Wasters: "So much potential, so much waste."
Stormers: "They have admirable abilities, it is a great shame they are not natural."
Wraith Raiders: "The Wraith Raiders are a skilled and intelligent race but could benefit from unity amongst their own kind"
Advanced Carrien: "I cautiously welcome our newest members into the fold."

Wraith Raider:



QUOTE: "Here, where I now live on Mort, is far removed from my distant Home World. Sometimes I miss the chilling breeze, the dazzling white snow and the exhilarating thrill of the chase so far in the depths of my memory. Now I am an operative for SLA
Industries and all I have left from my past are faint memories and the instinct to hunt and kill. Mort is no less harsh than any environment or situation I have come from, it is still survival of the fittest. SLA Industries needs our hunter race because we are survivors, not like the Conflict Aliens. All they knew was destruction and war. We kill to survive and rely on cunning and stealth. I kill for blood, and blood is money. I get paid for what I do best, I'm a money hunter."

INSIGHT: You were born into a litter of half dozen and within the first year, only you and one other sibling survived. That was when you left your birth-parents and litter mate, your recollections of them fuzzy at best. You honed your hunting and survival skills, developing better and better weapons. First spears, then crossbows to enable you to kill from a distance. That was when you met your hunting mate. Her prowess with the kill impressed you enough to accept her presence in your territory and you knew that in a few short years, she would likely give birth to a litter of your own. But that all was forgotten the day you stumbled on a patrol of strange beings. Bipedal like you, but instead of the thick, white fur, they were clad in layers of artificial materials, imitating what nature had given you. They moved through the frozen wasteland seemingly clumsily, but as you trailed them, sometimes close enough to reach out and touch their strange weapons and tools, you learned that they were formidable in their own way. When one of the many enormous predators of your home ambushed them, they responded by blasting it apart with an absolutely thrilling display of firepower.
So you followed them further, far away from your familiar territory, until finally they returned to their nest, a construct with artificial walls and flameless heating elements to keep the natural cold at bay. It was after your sixth day of observation that you slipped through their security cordon and was waiting for the one they seemed to defer to as their leader inside his private structure when he woke up, in the process of dismantling and rebuilding one of their weapons for the eight time. By the time the man had recovered from his shock, you exposed your needle teeth at him as you had seen others of their kind do and inquired just how you could join them and would they provide you with this particular weapon if you did in halting, but understandable Killan.
That was how you earned your ticket out of Polo, your frozen homeworld, to Mort, where you learned that you were not alone, that others of your kind had also taken the leap to greater and even more dangerous hunting grounds by joining SLA Industries, and that you were to be shipped to Meny for further education and immigration process. There your white fur shed, exposing the lavender undercoat, and where your pale, pink eyes warmed to deep red.
Your parents and siblings forgotten with the same ease as was your hunting pair. If they wanted to truly survive, they too would have found their way off-planet.

BACKGROUND: People who are unfamiliar with the Wraith Raiders may find them difficult to be around at first. Their unique disposition and outlook stands at odds with most other species in the World of Progress, particularly Shaktars, who in terms of personality position at direct opposite. Both species elected to join SLA during the Conflict Era but for the Wraith Raiders it was never a difficult choice, they have always sided with the perceived winning team.
Wraiths can be as chilly as the Ice Worlds from which they originate. They lack all but the slightest form of empathy and compassion, yet they aren’t especially cruel, but instead they are the ultimate pragmatists, as evolved by their incredibly hostile home environment. This natural pragmatism encompasses every facet of their life. Out of all the new and strange qualities of the World of Progress, the one that Wraith Raiders inevitably embrace the most is consumerism. They love getting their hands on the very latest of everything, be it weapons, fashion, or cultural fads, but they are also not in any way materialistic. They simply measure their success in life by always being at the peak of performance, but past initial possession, they quickly lose interest in the material things that they pursued so hard just moments ago once something new and interesting is coming to the market. Humans loosely compares Wraith Raiders to cats, they seem aloof and disinterested by anything outside their sphere of interest. As a culture they have very few traditions or beliefs and barely keep a record of their own history. They can be highly materialistic, but will literally discard a relatively new piece of equipment or weapon in favour of the very latest and most popular upgrade.
Wraiths are also like this with regards to relationships. They may enter a relationship for days or months but will simply drop the connection if there is a chance of attaining someone better. Attractiveness is not as high on their list of appeal as status, wealth
and opportunity. It is always whatever is in the best interests of the Wraith Raider that drives them on. Wraith Raiders struggle to understand why a Shaktar treasures an old, battered shotgun, or the memories he associates it with, nor can they fathom why a spouse would stay with a partner who is sick or has lost their job. The first instinct of a Wraith Raider is to drop dead weight and move on.
It is frequently believed that a Wraith Raider is incapable of love, a concept set forth by standards of other species, but this is simply due their lack of empathy and attachment as there was no room for either of them in their previous life. It tends to be however, the more time Wraiths spend around different species for extended periods they develop new feelings and emotions, but with them it takes longer than most. Over time, many Wraith Raiders gradually grow to like or even admire other species. Although more cynical observers believe that it is an elaborate trick or form of mimicry, a way to further the Wraiths own personal agenda.
Love may be difficult for a Wraith but they do have a great fondness for hunting; something that ties into the earliest evolutionary stage of their species and is still salient in the present day. A Wraith Raider cannot resist the thrill of stalking and killing an elusive prey, whether that be live game that they prep for dinner, or an unsuspecting Dark Night agent caught in the sights of their rifle scope. They like the taste of fresh blood and raw meat, which satiates their deep primal urges, their innate ‘killer instinct.’
Wraiths subscribe to the attitude of survival of the fitness and this extends into every aspect of their lives, whether it is climbing
the SCL ladder, performing a challenge, or getting served first at the bar. They want to be best, first, happiest and make no apologies for it.

APPEARANCE: Wraith Raiders resemble large humanoid cheetahs. They stand on two legs and their bodies are slim but athletic with well pronounced muscles. Wraith Raiders have no fat, they are simply too fit although in circumstances where a Wraith Raider gains so much as a slight pot belly, the rest of the race will hold them in disgust. For this reason, Wraith Raiders always keep in shape through fear of social damnation and a physical drop in effectiveness.
The Wraith Raider species have a strange hide. On the Ice Worlds their fur grows long and white and their eyes fade to pale pink. However if they then return to warmer planets like Mort, their hair thins out till it is almost unnoticeable at a distance. In warmer climates, the Wraith Raider has the semblance of human hair-however it is usually navy blue or deep purple, and his soft velvet-like fur is the colour of lavender with a mottled pattern similar to a leopard. Their eyes become narrow slits of red. Since the Wraith Raiders are basically hunters, their bodies sprout teeth and claws, which they use when stalking (although later in adolescence, guns and other weapons are preferable to them).
The typical Wraith Raider wears a coolant suit, which regulates their body temperature. Since they originate from Ice Worlds, the Wraith Raider species can survive in sub-zero temperatures without worry. However they tend to dislike hot temperatures, but will tolerate them as long as they are not extreme.

INTERACTION:
Wraith Raiders on;
Humans: "Variable physique, plump and fleshy. Generally unfit species."
Frothers: "Stupid, insane. Best hunted at a distance, with a gun."
Ebons: "Too emotional. Relying too heavily on the mind."
Brain Wasters: "Aggressive and pointless, approachable after all flux has been burnt. Burn them."
Stormers: "Acceptably dangerous, fortunately only produced by SLA Industries."
Shaktars: "Foolishly 'broody'. Best advice - forget family, forget honour and forget trust."
Advanced Carrien: "An improvement on the original, would likely make a more interesting prey."

Advanced Carrien:



QUOTE: “Everyone is funny to me. They say funny things. Call me funny names, things that are meant to hurt. But I’ve been cut, shot, stabbed and bitten; and that’s proper pain. I got past all that; I’ll get past this. I’m a ‘bone head’, a ‘dog boy’, a ‘tunnel mutt’. I’ve heard it all. But when you get lost in the Downtown sewers and a carnivorous pig is chewing on your nutsack, you’ll be needing my help. No one can handle Mort City like an ADV.”
Krackle, ADV Carrien Operative,
SCL 9.1a, Squad ‘Dusty Lavender’

INSIGHT: You have only vague, fleeting memories of your infancy. You and your 4 sibling pups were born in a sewer pipe in Downtown. One of your litter was slain by Mort Rat, which you then killed. You then bit out the throat of your brother who was trying to steal your kill; you ate them both. One night your mother was shot dead by an Operative, by that time you were the sole surviving pup. With the man in armour came other Humans in lab coats. One shot you with a dart gun and when you woke you were in a cage in a white, shiny Karma lab.
As time passed, you were given a series of injections. They stung bitterly but the effects soothed you. When you were able to focus you saw a Human woman smiling at you through the bars, which prevented you from chewing her tasty face off. She taught you to read, the bare basics of writing and to speak the Mort language. It was difficult and you were frustrated, but in time you got to learn more interesting skills.The big, red, alien man educated you in the use of firearms, vibro-weapons, even unarmed fighting which could allow you to drop foes much larger than yourself and leave them shuddering on the floor. Finally, they informed you that you were now an ADV Carrien and you had a job to do. So be it: you got into your heavy armour, slotted your MAC in its sheath and left the Karma lab. SLA had trained you, but not prepared you, for society, with all its complexities and discrimination. You were assigned to an Op Squad and the insults continued for a time, but you didn’t much care. You managed to break the Frother’s nose when he tried to steal your Big Grin burger and when the resident Stormer punched you for mocking his dead pet Arrowhead Cockroach, you didn’t fall over, so the Stormer was your best friend after that. It has been a long, difficult road to acceptance, but the squad needs you now, especially if the next BPN leads back into the sewers. The place you were born.

BACKGROUND: For so many centuries the Carrien has been regarded as vermin, like Mort Rats only bigger and more vicious. There isn’t much that is sympathetic or admirable about a Carrien. They want to kill and eat you. This is how the average Mort Civilian (and in truth, the average SLA Operative too) regards the average Carrien: it is a monster that means you harm, so trying to introduce ‘Carrien Operatives’ was always going to be met with considerable resistance.
SLA Industries has been struggling to utilise Mort’s burgeoning Carrien population for a very long time. The company regards the genus as repellent yet despite its less than commendable traits, SLA cannot deny its innate powers and resilience. It is a species that survived (albeit corrupted by) nuclear radiation, then starvation and a host of differing pollutants beyond the Fission Belt. The Carrien nonetheless endures and thrives. Unfortunately, the vast majority of Carrien are completely feral and from an early age they imprint onto the dominant Greater Carrien, or a sturdy Alpha Carrien pack leader. They are not a species that would ever actively side with SLA Industries, but recent years have shown a subtle shift in the normal, savage patterns of behaviour as some Carrien have been witnessed behaving in downright unusual ways, like observing Operatives for prolonged lengths of time instead of immediately either attacking or fleeing. There were even some unproven rumours of Operatives claiming to have met a Carrien capable of speech in Killian.
SLA Industries, ever searching for new employment opportunities, persevered and after countless attempts to re-educate the animalistic species, the ADV Carrien was finally created. At first, the development team focussed on juvenile Alpha Carrien, but they could not be tamed in any useful way, so this initial intention was abandoned. The key was to capture the best specimens within the first weeks of their lives. There was nothing random about this process – the chosen Carrien packs were monitored for months, even years, to find the best, toughest young infants. The company was looking for just one in a litter of pups who would rise above the rest and then weather the early challenges in Carrien life. When the timing was optimal a team of Karma techs could intervene and steal away the juvenile Carrien and immediately commence reconditioning it, turning it from slavering monster
into a faithful, compliant employee of the company. Initially, Karma tried to adapt the physical make-up of the Carrien by grafting a layer of skin to the familiar bare skull, but the DNA addition refused to adhere. Despite better nutrition, education and improved posture – an Advanced Carrien would always remain a Carrien.
But SLA had still achieved its objective – The ADV filled a particular niche in the Operative roster. It is a species perfectly adapted to the Downtown and Cannibal Sector environs; they have excellent resistance against disease, radiation and poison. They shrug off most injuries and do not spook easily. ADV Carrien commence their employment at odds with the world around them. In essence, they are a bit of a blank slate. They don’t yet have much preference towards food, dress sense, or musical taste and will invariably look to the squad’s Human or Ebon on what they should wear, or even think. Much like their kin out in the cannibal sectors, ADVs will fixate on seemly random objects, either staring at them for protracted periods and obsessively collecting them in masse. Feral Carrien like shiny objects, but ADVs have a much wider range of obsessions, buying pieces of SLA equipment based on aesthetic quality rather than function, even going as far as to buy flux gems and ebb gear because the weird shapes and contours fascinate them. Once they find a piece of music or band they like, they will listen to select tunes on repeat, much to the annoyance of the rest of their squad. Gradually, over time, the ADV establish their own sense of identity and worth.
SLA Industries rarely uses the full term – ‘Advanced Carrien’, much preferring to use the abbreviated ‘ADV’ in an effort to lessen
the connection with the creatures perceived as SLA’s enemy. It doesn’t do much to alleviate the fear and hatred directed towards
ADVs and most of their number are quiet, reserved and modest creatures whom rarely speak out. They do their jobs as efficiently
as possible.

APPEARANCE: The ADV bears many of the same visual characteristics of a feral Carrien – the bare, skinless canine skull, the sharp teeth and claws and bright, featureless blue eyes, deep set in the sockets. Some of the more bigoted members of SLA society cannot seen any difference at all in the appearance of an ADV Carrien compared to the wild Carrien found in Downtown or the cannibal sectors. There are however, several notable differences between the two. ADV Carrien have far better posture compared to the feral breed, with a physiognomy closer to that of a Human. They are also far healthier and well groomed and since Carrien have fast acting metabolism, any weight they gain quickly converts into strong, lean muscle mass. Lastly, the whole demeanour of
the ADV Carrien sets it apart from regular Carrien; they have true sentience. Many ADVs will attach hoods, protective caps (commonly worn under helmets) and accessories to the head region to further lessen the association to their savage cousins.

QUOTES:
Advanced Carrien on;
Humans: "They seem to think that they rule this planet by numbers alone, but they are wrong. They are not the most numerous species on Mort."
Frothers: "I see Frothers and I cannot help but to think of a mirror. They are painfully similar to me. They are an evolution from Humans, better suited for the World of Progress.
Ebons: "They try to show us kindness but even they fail to hide their physical reactions to me."
Brain Wasters: "I understand a world that has turned Ebon into Brain Waster, but I do not have to like it."
Stormers: "They are the pride of SLA Industries. They are the response to meet the world that made me, but artificially."
Shaktars: "A remnant of a world that has no place or purpose today."
Wraith Raiders: "You will never hear one admit it, but they are the same as me. Also, we learned not to move across open fields of fire thanks to them, so I guess that is something."

Vevaphon:



"Pol... poly... polym... orf... ploypart... pollyparrot... polymorph... gen.. geny... genetic... boy... bio... biogen... biogenetic. Biogenetic polymorph."

INSIGHT: Streams of information flood you like a tidal wave of words. Uncontrolled chaotic messages burn into you. Your senses can tale no more of this intangible torrent of data as you feel every part of you crave for attention. You want to scream. There's not enough free movement left in you to utter a whimper. Like a ray of the brightest, warmest sunshine, a spark of reason fills you. The primal reason for your existence. Progress.

Order returns to your abused senses. Wet. Warm. Weightless? No. Floating in liquid. Visions, sight, red. Beyond the haze you see a technicians. The people that created you. The first moments of consciousness bring your world out of the protection of the Bio-womb that has been everything to you for so long. Fearfully, you float to the top of the tank and reach upwards. Breaking the surface of the water, air caresses your hand. As you slowly emerge, new feelings engulf you. Pores open and close all over your body -inhaling, breathing, living. The technicians run to your aid and guide you out of the tank. Looking down at your body, you see that you look like the humans around you. Almost. You feel yourself being pulled to the ground. Dropping to your knees you feel your body being dragged to the floor. A technician helps to your feet explaining that 'gravity reacts more to your body than that of any other creature because of the lack of stability in your cell structure'. Muscle groups form throughout your body  as billions of cells buckle, spasm and bundle to create solid flesh, allowing you to stand again, making you look more like the technicians around you. More human. You have more stability now. You take your first steps. Walking is not easy, having to actively control your feet, taking the strain up your legs through your back. You try making yourself a framework to support the muscles. You create a skeleton, albeit on the outside of your body, as a hard shell. 'Vevaphon' is what they call you. A biogenetic creation. The DNA codes that belong to you are not a manipulation, an alteration or a redesign of any part of nature. They are created for you by genetic scientists. Another Vevaphon slides from a tank next to yours. The technicians run to its assistance. The instability you felt, you can now see -as if the Vevaphon was melting. It soon finds its feet, as you did a moment ago. Literally. Although you are unsure of the true purpose of your existence, a haphazard guess would be that you are to be an assassin of some description. A killing machine? Perhaps, but you realize that you have the intelligence to be almost anything you want. Your possibilities are practically endless. With the wonder of your new home fading, you concentrate on your body, reforming your outer skin to take on the shape of clothes like the ones the Doppleganger technicians are wearing. This is more difficult, as the shape of the clothes is constantly changing with the movement of the owner, and is difficult to concentrate on in order to copy. The colours are easy. Your cells react to tiny signals, mimicking the blues and whites of Doppleganger technicians. Now you are attempting to form facial features. Your cells have a difficult job trying to group in the proper areas. Matching skin tone is even more difficult. Nearly human now, although their hair is almost impossible for your cells to copy, leaving strands that form in bundles and blend to your scalp. Nearly human. Almost perfect.

BACKGROUND: The Vevaphon, or 'Vev' for short, is the first creation to step forward from the Doppleganger Institute. A biogenetic polymorph, able to take on different shapes and forms through the manipulation of individual cells in their body by the million. The Vevaphon was designed purely from raw biogenetic material -unlike Stormers which are, amongst others, based on Intruder's DNA codes. The Vevaphon has what could be called a perfect cell structure, even if it is a little unstable. Each cell cluster is almost an organism in its own right, with a network of nerve cells which act as a brain membrane. This membrane holds all the reasoning and motor action of a normal brain. The surface area is the only difference. This membranous memory is present in all areas of the body, controlling the bodily functions throughout, and not just from one 'control center' in the head.

The Vevaphon, however, is not a group of single cell creatures, but one creature whose cell structure is not set permanently and can flow without disrupting the tissues. The Vevaphon must eat, sleep, breathe and carry out all the other functions of a living being. The Vevaphon's internal organs are subject to the same genetic make-up as its brain and can, like the brain, be moved around the body to various, or a single, location within the body. Breathing can be achieved by absorbing air through pores in the skin or by a larger single aperture sch as a mouth or nose. Nutrients are absorbed in a similar manner, The food that the Vevaphon eats is a development of Doppleganger, a paste that provides all the necessary nutrients that are required to sustain life. It is possible for a Vevaphon to eat ordinary food, but to receive the equivalent nutrition value they would need to consume at least double that of a human being, such is the vast amount of energy utilized by the Vevaphon in simply staying alive.

This flexibility of cell structure gives the Vevaphon some interesting abilities. One of which is its ability to move through small spaces like ventilation shafts and pipes, although nothing as small as a keyhole. Other abilities include it being able to harden its skin to a bone like subtance acting as a kind of armour. This is not always necessary as, due to its loose cell structure, large amounts of kinetic energy tend to push the cells away from the target area at an abnormally accelerated rate, leading to reduction in tissue damage. The fast maneuvering of organs can also reduce damage. The blood of a Vevaphon is the only thing they have least control over, as it must be kept flowing -but they can control the blood flow to a wound.

The production of Vevaphons is a long process, with almost twice the gestation period of  normal Stormer. This is mainly due to the fact that there are no base DNA codes to follow. This can also lead to a certain amount of disorientation on the part of the Vevaphon, as it has no real personality at birth. It can change its form and structure, giving it a slight identity problem -whereas a Stormer is a Stormer and will never change. It is no surprise that they don't know who they are. This soon passes, allowing the Vevaphon to take whatever form they are comfortable with. All Vevaphons take a humanoid shape as it is easier to manipulate and control. It is also the first and only form 'programmed' into the Vevaphon at it is growing. The Vevaphon is a new and untested step in Biogenetic science and could be the way forward. Only time and their progress reports will tell.

APPEARANCE: Although almost entirely human in appearance, the Vevaphon cannot master the form completely. Small discrepancies are always noticeable, for example, if the Vevaphon is duplicating clothes, they will join to the actual body of the Vevaphon at certain points. The hair is also difficult for the Vevaphon to mimic and looks almost plastic in appearance as it does not move as fluidly as real hair and joins the scalp too thickly. If close attention is not paid to fine detail such as this, a Vevaphon can only pass for a human in crowds, dimly lit areas or at a distance of over 30m.

INTERACTION:
Vevaphons on;
Humans: "Perfection of form and movement but lacking the versatility we possess."
Ebons: "The powers of these creatures are a mystery to me. I have no wish to learn the secrets that they hold so dear."
Brain Wasters: "I cannot understand why this race bothers to exist. They are totally self-destructive. Violence breeds violence. By the looks of things, a lot of inbreeding does as well."
Shaktars: "You can teach a monkey to write so you can teach reptiles to use guns."
Frothers: "Complete lack of control -perhaps due to drugs, lack of intelligence, or more believable, their inability to raise themselves above the rank of a savage."
Stormers: "A blend of pure strain warriors who are single minded, unstoppable, brave soldiers of SLA Industries. We have an unbreakable bond. The bond of biogenetics."
Wraith Raiders: "Self centered, opinionated beasts that have only just managed to scrape themselves up a few notches on the food chain so that they are no longer classed as animals."
Xenos: "The Xeno is the pinnacle of Stormer technology. They have unique abilities that set them above others of their kind."