From Star Trek: Theurgy Wiki
|Position:||'Sparkles' of the Grey Scars|
|Height:||5ft 6in / 1.68m|
|Weight:||139lbs / 63kg|
|Played by:||Dean Charles Chapman|
Fighter System Maintanance
Sharpening his Daggers
Small felinesImagining different ways he could kill his ‘Queen’
|2366-2371: No formal education, skills picked up through day-to-day life|
2371-2375: Working for the Ornaran military, specialising in ordnance and fighter maintenance and construction
2375-2381: Serving aboard pirate vessel, as part of crew 'The Grey Scars'
|2371-2375: Serving as a member of the maintenance and construction force for the Ornaran military|
2375-2375: Active duty as a fighter gunman in the Ornaran military
2375-2378: Serving aboard pirate vessel 'Grey Daemon'
2378-2381: Promotion to full member of pirate gang 'The Grey Scars'
Otheusz was born in 2358, six years before the final trade of felicium was intercepted by the Starship Enterprise-D of the United Federation of Planets, who neglected to help the struggling society with the plague they believed was wracking through their population. At that age, Otheusz was too young to fully understand the impact that so many years of felicium addiction had wrought upon Ornaran society, having only heard a few fleeting stories of how life was like before their society was ruined by the outbreak of the virulent plague, ominously referred to by the oldest of Ornarans as 'The Undoing'.
Otheusz was also too young to have remembered the onslaught of suicides when it was found out that the felicium was then, and forever, out of reach for all those suffering with the plague, set to die an agonising death. He was too young to have recalled the apparent panacea when the entire planet became miraculously cured of all symptoms of plague across a three month period, despite the lack of felicium. He missed the sense of melancholy rapture, celebrating their own lives by dancing on the graves of all those lost to their own despair.
And Otheusz wasn't quite old enough to know what the reaction was, when it was realised that the plague had been gone for years, and that their illness, their losses, were caused by addiction to the very salvation that had been offered to them. But as he grew up, he more than understood the consequences of such rampart betrayal.
With society so irreparably wracked with death and discord, Ornara was nothing close to a charming place to have grown up. Cities once filled with beauty and wonder had become overgrown wastelands, with unclaimed corpses still lingering in rundown homes as all those survivors tried to clamber together a life from the ruins. Their once advanced technology was damaged, with most who once knew how to operate it dead or so addled from years of felicium rotting their brains that they could no longer recall.
Otheusz' Father did his best to provide for his son during his early years, relocating to a shanty community outside of the city, where the collective efforts of dozens of drug-craving adults facilitated the ability for them to provide for their children, knowing that they themselves would never fully recover from their addictions in the way their children could. Parents passed down what little information they could, about their technologies, their culture, their values, but most had spent so long focused solely on their craving that there was very little of value they hope could pass down. Instead, it was up to scouring for books and printed records of instruction and development, to somehow clamber together any hope of survival for their way of life.
Though he lived a fairly sheltered life in the community outside of Penthas, he still grew up witnessing the devastation that their society had been subject to, knowing that it had robbed him of the life he would have wanted. But in an effort to endure, he and his fellow youths possessing necessary maturity beyond their years, Otheusz found himself developing a keen interest in the technological aspects of his learning, constantly scrying over books and instructions, to familiarise himself with how to manage and repair the technologies that were once taken for granted by their populace. As he entered his teens, and the needs of the community grew, he took his knowledge and frequented the rundown streets of Penthas to scavenge, trade and fight for technology and supplies beneficial to those whom he cared about. He started timidly, though with the cities rife with gangs of teenagers and young adults whose parents hadn't survived their withdrawal, alongside those trying to selfishly protect their own faculties, it quickly became a battle for survival every time he entered the city.
He endured the dangerous expeditions for years, and told himself it was all for the betterment of the community, that if he didn't fight for his life, he would never have one. Yet, one fateful evening, when he and some of the other youths he had grown up with, returned from scavenging the city for parts, they arrived home to find that their community had been the subject of a brutal raid; their technology was ransacked, their supplies looted, and their people nowhere to be seen.
Otheusz never found his Father again after that day, instead relocating into the city and becoming assimilated into one of the gangs he so gravely hated. Life within the gang was hard for the boy who'd grown up in relative comfort, compared to the gangs who allowed themselves to exist in foetid squalor. Otheusz saw himself as better than his new companions, most within a few years of his age, but despite his ability, intelligence, and ambition, the 'civilised' boy was the rock bottom of the pecking order, and he was forced to resort to the most heinous acts just to survive. But still, he endured, a burning hatred boiling in his heart for all those who had so jovially taken advantage of his suffering.
It was widely known, by then, that the Brekkian populace had been exploiting the Ornarans for two centuries, with the one thing that could unite the disgruntled Ornaran populace being their combined hatred for their neighbours. Otheusz' anger was absolute, put down to the sheer hatred that flooded through his veins at the very thought of any Brekkian, yet, his hatred wasn't simply the source of years of rightful indoctrination to hate his enemy, but also, down to his own knowledge that he had been robbed of any hope of happiness because of their betrayal. If anyone was to blame for his suffering, it was those who lived fat and happy lives on Brekka, those who happily witnessed the death of a society for their own gain. Otheusz knew that Ornara would never recover to what had been told in the second-hand stories that he had been raised on, that it would forever be an angry, betrayed nation, fighting amongst themselves for scraps like dogs.
Yet, thankfully for him, his belief was hardly prophetic.
It took a long while, but eventually, Ornaran society began to restart, little and large fractured communities joining together and forging alliances, pushing the gangs out of the cities with combined will and repaired technologies. It was a shadow of its former self, but functioning once again. A ramshackle democracy flickered into existence, biomatter sequencing technology being restored, and life began to eek towards what it had been prior to the plague, though nobody alive had a hint of what that had been...
Following the biggest push to rebuild, the people needed a new goal to strive for. And it didn't take long for the shambles of democracy that had risen in the place of a unified government, to finally answer their populace's cry for vengeance. The views on whether the USS Enterprise-D and the Federation, the ship that had visited them on the eve of their panacea, were responsible, greatly differed. Some believed that the Federation had cost them everything, and were responsible for the rash of suicides and deaths in agonising withdrawal that flooded the planet. Others, believed that the Federation had saved the Ornarans from the grip of the Brekkians by not interfering in the felicium trade, and not offering them aid repairing their ships.
One thought was unified across all Ornarans however. Revenge on the Brekkians, for ruthlessly extorting them for years, knowing that their 'cure' was a perversion of the word
Thus the new planetary government, declared war on Brekka...
Due to the huge population loss the Ornarans had faced from the fellicium withdrawal, the government saw fit to deploy teenagers in positions they were deemed fit for, and Otheusz found his somewhat neglected knack for machinery put to good use working in the ordnance development. It took him time, but whilst his knowledge of biology, chemistry and numerous other disciplines were sorely lacking, his ability to develop, assemble and deploy devastating weaponry quickly became a very promising skill. He worked tirelessly along with his peers, applying his largely self-taught engineering skills to aid in the development of a myriad of weapons that were deployed across the slow-building Ornaran fleet, content in the knowledge that his creations were designed to kill slews of Brekkians when the final invasion occurred. Otheusz had been raised on a steady diet of hatred and revenge for the Brekkians for most of his life, further fueled by propaganda to be the perfect soldier. And that he was.
When the war broke out, Otheusz remained stationed on Ornara for several years, developing new batteries for both air and ground vehicles, repairing returning ships, refitting new weaponry onto fighters and developing new warheads designed to yield the highest levels of destruction upon their enemy. Yet it was his first foray into combat in 2375, at 17 years old, that truly changed the course of his life.
He was part of one of the fighter teams deployed to support Ornaran ground troops during a brutal raid on a known Brekkian supply depot, according to mission ops. He manned the artillery pod of his fighter, with his comrades T'Lis and Cannan manning the flight controls and phaser banks respectively. Otheusz' body moved like it was part of the machine he was controlling as they flew into combat, slavos of cluster torpedos bombarding into Brekkian deployment lines and embankments, devastating their artillery and killing dozens of his foes in every barrage. He knew a grim pleasure at the sight of his weapons wrecking such total havoc on the battlefield, and even as he watched the Brekkian troops fleeing, he couldn't stem the anger that demanded him to fire on the fleeing enemy.
These people had actively and knowingly forfeit his life in exchange for making their own easier, and he hated them indiscriminately for it. Even though he had only been addicted for a few years, his mother's addiction during pregnancy had affected his physiology enough to have limited much of his life. Felicium had rendered him entirely infertile.
Yet after the battle, as he and his comrades waited hungrily for the feast they had been promised as a result for their efforts, imagining banks of food from the supply depot to be more than their limited replicators could produce in a year, he and his friends granted themselves rare smiles at the thought of eating themselves into immobility. However, the feast they were promised, instead made them sick.
The raid they had undertaken, the whole campaign onto Brekka was not for vengeance or retribution, but a campaign to secure territory that could be used to cultivate felicium production under Ornaran supervision.
Enraged that so many lives had been lost, once again, over the felicium that their society had already been ruined by once before, Otheusz and his friends branded themselves deserters and fled the planet's surface in the night, taking their shuttle and the little food they could steal, before fleeing the system.
They couldn't return to the homeworld, and neither did they wish to, instead, taking their fighter out of the system and hoping to reach the Federation, where they hoped they could start anew, believing that the Federation had helped them once before, and would again. Their lack of knowledge regarding space, was to their detriment. They barely progressed any notable distance before their fuel ran out, and drifted for a week until their food ran out, the three of them cramped in the tiny compartment that they lived in, slowly waiting to die as their life support gauge flickered at zero.
Fortune was however, on their side, and powerful solarwinds happened to take them into a trade route that was frequented by a few species who knew to avoid the Ornaran system. Fortune, however, came at a cost, and it was no passing freighter that picked them up, but instead a pirate vessel of raiders and reavers who knew themselves as 'The Grey Scars'.
The Captain of the pirates, a fierce woman who called herself ‘The Grey Queen’, whose crew consisted of mainly Humans, two Bajoran siblings and a Risan, was amused by the Ornaran's natural electrical charges, and elected to take Otheusz and his companions with them as prisoners, to serve their whims and further their objectives over the course of their next planned series of raids against their stake of territory along the popular shipping lane...
The Grey Scars
Over the years, Otheusz, who had been branded with the mocking pseudonym, 'Sparkles', amongst other, colourful, misnomers, was used as live bait for a great many innocent traders, posing as a damaged shuttle, only to turn upon his rescuers with a weapon couldn't be disarmed by a security team. The ‘Queen’ was pleased by his work particularly, both his efforts as bait for passing ships, and for his talents at upgrading the torpedo launchers upon their craft to yield devastating effects on unwary vessels. Otheusz saw that the more he pleased the ‘Queen’, the longer his proverbial leash became, and as such, he applied his knowledge of ordnance weaponry to refit and re-calibrate the entire weapons array on their craft, reprogramming targeting scanners and taking great care to learn the quirks of the system better than anyone else.
Three further years passed as a spacefaring raider, before the ‘Queen’ decided that Otheusz was someone worth keeping around, his personality far more accustomed to the jobs he was required to perform than the more delicate temperaments of his companions, who found the violence difficult to stomach, whereas Otheusz had lived it for a good few years of his life. Whilst the ‘Queen’ had intended to sell his companions into the Orion markets, her desire to keep Otheusz on board swayed her. The ‘Queen’ knew that Otheusz had been somewhat complaint until then, and deciding to sell his friends might make that compliance slip, not to mention let her rivals get the chance of stealing her tactics... And whilst the ‘Queen’, like the rest of the group, saw Otheusz as a pet, property to be deployed as she wished, she was also aware that a kicked dog bit back, and so she begrudgingly banished the two Ornarans whom were of very little use to her.
When their crew landed upon one of the many 'ghost cities' upon the world of Aldea, staking their claim to territory amidst the gang wars, a place that reminded Otheusz far too much of his childhood, he bid his friends a dispassionate farewell, feeling bitter that they could go and continue a life together, whilst he remained a slave to the pirates. Unknown to Otheusz however, both Ornarans had their throats slit in an unnamed alleyway, after inadvertently traversing the territory of a rival gang, before they'd even begun their journey to Aldea Prime, but their bodies were rotten and picked clean by vermin before Otheusz ever came to discover them. As far as he knew, they were off living their lives, happy as could be.
Over the coming few years, Otheusz and the crew remained on Aldea and plagued its surrounding shipyards, preying like vultures upon transports, shuttles and freighters that drifted too far away from the Klingon defence forces. He had many run ins with the Klingons, and took to carrying two ferocious looking daggers upon his belt, to use in combat, mainly to parry and duel with their ferocious weapons, but occasionally to greatly supplement his fighting style and bioelectric discharges. The time which was not spent going out on shipyard raids, was often spent engaging in the ever-present gang wars over resources and territory in the 'ghost city' that he was forced to call home.
He found his existence as a petty pirate truly pitiful, not so different to his years spent in the gangs of Penthas, but he played his part, getting a facial tattoo upon his chin, marking him as one of the crew. His ‘Queen’ was grandiose, and liked to show off Otheusz to passing pirates, whom the ‘Queen’ liked to 'host' during their stay on Aldea, and that couldn't be achieved without the trademark grey dash upon his chin. She also learned to enjoy his company in the private of her boudoir, instructing him to use his bioelectric energy to stimulate her body. She toyed with his mind, with sexual tease and innuendo, but aside from a few lingering touches, mainly designed to mock him, she never forced herself upon him.
However, Otheusz at least began to discover the smallest sense of pride in some of his less shameful actions; his innovative and ingenious weapon modifications, his expert work at patching up their ship after it took a beating, and his uncanny ability to plunge a knife into a Klingon heart. However, despite his begrudging efforts to better become one of the crew, he was eternally mocked and ridiculed for them. His desperate attempts to learn to speak English were laughed into an abyss of self-pity, the crew taking to turn off their translators just to watch the young-Ornaran struggle with sounds that didn't come naturally. His tireless work to keep the ship's weapons in perfect condition defaced at any opportunity for the crew to get a laugh. Even his fighting skills were mocked and belittled, in the aftermath of every battle, no matter how well he'd fought.
Otheusz found little in his life to enjoy, even his down time was just a reminder of his own shortfalls. He spent hours pouring over stolen datapads and consoles, fruitlessly learning about what he could never be a part of. Despite having emotionally lost all consideration of hope, Otheusz equally never gave up his life long fight to better hisself and to push onwards.
It was when he was twenty three, whilst he had been working on a refit of one of their fighters' underslung torpedo launcher, that he overheard a conversation that began a chain of events that brought him to his first face-to-face encounter with the Federation... An encounter that had the facility to truly change his life.
Yet, despite his downtrodden mentality, he still clamored ruthlessly to survive any odds he was put against. His hard-railed fight for himself had dictated that he put aside concepts of morality, in favour of an animalistic need to keep on living, no matter what cost. It was curious, for one so void of hope and optimism, to fight so keenly to see the next day. He had no great goals or ambitions, yet he fought tooth and nail to push forwards, any reasoning behind his fight, a mystery, even to himself.
One of his greatest flaws in his own eyes, was his own desperation for approval of those around him. He sought acknowledgement from the gangs of Penthas and the Grey-Scars, despite loathing them to the centre of their being. His desperation for approval also extended to a total commitment to any task he undertook, to the conclusion of all else. The desperation he had to find kinship with others stemmed from an innate loneliness that he never found a real way to fight…
His desperation for approval, tied with a lack of any sense of self-worth or hope for a future, also facilitated the unfortunate side effect of making him a desirable target for exploitation.
The other key flaw he barely realised he possessed, was his constant need to improve himself, to the point of obsession, once again stemming from a life spent with scum who spat down on him, whilst he knew he was the one who had more to offer the universe. This lead to him attacking any task with the same vigor he did when clamoring for approval, suggesting such a severe lack of self-worth, that he had to fight for approval even from himself.
It also served to ridicule him all the more, when his most valiant of efforts were brought down by jeer and insult, leading him to loathe his perceived inefficiencies all the more…
Otheusz also found a constant reminder of his hardship when seeing another person deliver a positive emotion beyond a small, cruel, smile. Happiness reminded him of ruin, and how someone else's joy, such as the happiness and comfort of the Brekkians, could bring such utter brutality to the chance of someone else getting to bring a smile to their face. Happiness of one, has always translated to the suffering of another, and Otheusz was deeply uncomfortable when seeing displays of fun and jouviance.
Yet, despite all of his negativity, somewhere within him, Otheusz possessed an extraordinary compassion and dignity, yet a life spent struggling with simple survival, lacking any end in sight, had naturally served to quash those pleasantries, beating them down within him to a point where he scarcely recognised those qualities within himself. Instead, an existence drip-fed on a rightful hatred for the Brekkians had poisoned his world view, and a lifestyle demanding ruthlessness had spoiled his sense of kindness.
Otheusz did however have a few aspects of his life that he did not view with such unending pessimism, things he was perhaps even prideful of. One such was his proficiency with mechanics and ordnance. Another source of strength he found, was the ability to hold his own in a fight.
Whilst he was somewhat restrained by his lack of experience beyond Ornaran military gear and the ship and fighters deployed by the Grey Scars, and the knowledge that his best advantage in a fight was the element of surprise due to a biological weapon that none expected… They were some of the few things that made him feel proud of himself. Few of the things that gave him even the slightest glimmer of hope for the future.
Otheusz was never a big individual, instead ranging from skeletal and malnourished at the worst of times, to being lithe and lean at the best. His body didn't display much musculature, he had no distinctive abs or solid pecs, and his limbs were slender and flexible, but still able to demonstrate and deliver a surprising amount of strength. He also possessed some light scarring across his body, a few upon his arms and hands from scampering through salvage back on Ornara, and a particularly vicious slash across the back of his shoulder blades when he once made the mistake of particularly displeasing his ‘Queen’.
His hair rarely progressed beyond a thick, dirty blonde, greasy, tangled mop, whilst his skin was often sickly pale, grimy and dirty, down to simple lack of proper hygiene practice. He had a small, grey line tattooed upon his chin by the Grey Scars, which apparently, according to his ‘Queen’, ‘settled into his chin dimple’ and made him look ‘adorably dangerous’.
The Ornaran features upon his nose had been somewhat reduced during his time with the Grey Scars, by a surgeon who worked at the ‘Queen’s request to make her 'favourite pet' look less conspicuous. Whilst he still possessed the traditional nose features of an Ornaran, they were notably less pronounced than another member of his race. His feelings on that subject were significantly conflicted; whilst he hated being butchered and resculpted at the request of someone he hated, he possessed no great pride in belonging to a race whom waged wars just to get a few more doses of felicium.
His internal physiology was also notably different to other species. Some of the blood vessels on his skin also displayed as strong, dark lines that crackled in lighting patterns underneath his flesh. These vessels were part of his bioelectric systems and were most prominent upon the insides of his hands, where his bioelectricity was most prominently discharged. However, they also appeared faintly upon the back of his cheeks, his neck, torso and arms.
His bioelectric systems also provided him with an intense metabolism, requiring him to consume considerably greater portions of food than the average human of his size in order to stay healthy. This was greater when he was more liberal with his abilities than when he used them less frequently.
Otheusz' eyes were perhaps his most disarming feature, being delightfully pure and innocent blue, and so conflicting with his outward personality. They were often the most essential part of his beguiling routines to best disarm those whom answered his distress calls and fell into an ambush.
Otheusz' Ornaran physiology allowed him to generate a significant bioelectrical shock that manifested through his hands. It was a formidable weapon, but it had it's limitations. He had to place his palm and fingers in direct contact with the victim's skin or a connective material in order to deliver the shock, and against an opponent well versed in martial combat, he was rarely granted that chance. If he refrained from discharging his bioelectric energy for too long, it resulted in unsuspecting burst of static from his hands, which caused minor discomfort. Another application, which he was forced to discover by the ‘Queen’ of the Grey Scars, was that of a sexual application, that could cause pleasurable tingling when applied in gentle bursts.
During his time with the Grey Scars, he specialised in close quarters fighting using two, slyly curved, daggers. He was also rather adept at using ordnance weaponry, including torpedos, mines, cluster bombs and various other designs he had gotten his hands on over the years, stemming from his time working with the Ornaran military in the munitions division. However, his skills with ballistic weaponry did not extend to small arms and energy weapons, which he generally failed to comprehend that he didn't need to take into account projectile drag when aiming, as was required when manually targeting ordnance.