Age: Unknown, but sounds as a powerful man in his mid to late thirties. His stature and idle posturing also reflect this guesstimate.
Gender: The crew is pretty certain Vok is male, both by appearance, voice, and self proclamation.
Height: When standing upright, 8'7". Otherwise is hunched over and is about 6'10".
Weight: 770 lbs.
Sexuality: Aromantic Heterosexual
Bounty Title: N/A
Dream: Obtain glory.
Shortsword is depicted in the image.
Eye Color: Unseen, gray.
Hair Style and Color: Also not seen. Charcoal colored mohawk styled.
Vokmurn, or "Vok" as he introduces himself as, is best described by the warning label "Caution: Contents under Pressure". As comical as it might sound, Vokmurn is likely the only member of the crew never to take off his hard suit, and has been part of the crew longer than all but the captain himself. What makes the warning label fit so appropriately though, is his unrestrained and visible anger. Easily frustrated, and hates changes made "on a whim". It's at this point in time most are questioning both how did this man not obtain the position of combat specialist, or....well, anything besides his own position of crew Biologist. The large male is unmatched at successfully profiling worlds' inhabitants and generally how screwed the rest of the crew is at going. Sleep seems to be his only solace, his outlet from being denied going planetside...ever. The biologist seems to know a fair bit just looking at the planet or asteroid cluster or whatever it is the ship happens to be at. This might point to the growing popular theory that not only is there something wrong with him on a mental basis, but physically just...not human, in size, muscular capabilities, and mental capacities.
Refuses to speak about kin, and gives names to nothing and no one. While everyone else on the crew generally gets along with each other and makes small talk...or whatever it is they do, Vok gets along with no one. That isn't to say he's a brute or a bully. He is singularly focused on his duty and performing it to the best of ability. Not just his own, but to surpass everyone else's possible attempt. Often singled out as "that one guy" or "the fifth wheel" in events like group conversations, battle strategies, and generally how things operate. With a somehow ignorable presence, most of the time when the officers gather and "discuss" and "plan", the giant will have a piece of paper upon their table stating the necessities of "to know" about the area's inhabitants or anything of note, and stay out of the talks directly. He himself will often be still in the room, and not only willing to defend his statement, but does not take well to criticisms.
Particularly in this area is Vok easily provoked to violence. Even if he has no weapon, with his perhaps expected physical strength and endurance, anything becomes a weapon. Answers to none but the captain himself, and mentally thinks very poorly of his fellow officers.
[PUBLIC RELEASE EDITION] "I got to see everyone arrive, short of the jolly roger himself. I've seen everyone else go. I came aboard as a whelp, a sorry excuse of a man. Boy, as I think the coming saying is. Point is, life back home was unsatisfactory. I was military, damn proud of who I was. Didn't need my parents. My band was my family, we all were. Then some damn theologists or some robe-wearing spitoon of a worm decided to unify the lands and rule against everything our culture had ever known to be true. Naturally, we put him down about as easily as a woman stuffs her sewing cushion with pins....except the pins were swords, spears...and anything metal and heavy we could justify impaling him with. He looked like the head of a mace by the time we were done. Anyway, long story short, that's about how strongly we all believed in the stability of our culture. But politics get involved, no matter how tightly you keep order. It's all about the good of the one over the many. We look back at that robed man and see him as the herald of our society's downfall. Not three years after his execution, and the loose peace we held between individual branches of our culture erupted into chaos. Everyone was so spooked by this invasion and just how deeply he'd managed to stab into us with his propaganda...our paranoia drove us to ruin. Everyone thought they had the singular best plan...and took to private alliances, and butchering any that didn't support them. My unit was among those that held traditional values. Ultimately, we were issued an ultimatum. Pick a side, or die. We picked our side, which was the same as we had always stood by. Problem was, none of the "big wigs" supported that. So we got to die. Or so they wanted us to. Six of us against a nation of somehow unified hatred against us....and we WON. Well, to say victory was ours is a stretch. We denied them the goal of killing us. We fled the planet, joining this crew. So to say, we won the battle, but lost the war."
"Dammit, this was supposed to be a short version that even the stupid modern generation would be able to read without getting bored. Ah well, long story short, I'm here, they're not. Those responsible have received their just desserts. I figure it's only a matter of time before everyone else turns to get rid of me like my five brethren. All I want is to go home once I get my hands on....well, not like you peons need to know."
[END OF PUBLIC INFORMATION]
Vok was born Vokmurn, and adapted to his culture's war-like way of life like every other pup of his generation. Vok is an alien, and the only individual to know his visage or any history of him is Rodgers himself. The two share guarded secrets, so like mutual blackmail on each other. Most of what is revealed on his public information profile is true, though intentionally vague. Vok has had a history of being increasingly and excessively violent aboard the Black Nova. He came aboard as a lad of perhaps eighteen cycles (years, as we would liken them to), with five of what we find equivalent to sworn brothers and sisters. Genetic testing revealed none of them to actually be related to each other. He came aboard as a result of losing a power struggle in his race's society. Rather, being a part of one of the factions that lost. Death to the losers, as it were.
Fleeing the planet aboard Rodgers' ship as crew, he and his brethren served for less than a year before being aggressively either thrown off the ship, or straight murdered in their sleep. Vok's race are naturally large, carnivorous apex predators that not only compete with humans for total dominance of an area or planet, but usually overpower humans and drive them out. The lot of the six of them were able to hold out against the remaining full strength of the crew with little difficulty. The uneasy peace negotiated by the captain himself on the matter only served to deepen the rift between the humans and his kind, to the point where they were swarmed, and executed in a means or another. By the time that the crew had replaced his fallen kin with more of their kind, he had already planned to go out fighting, and to murder every last one of them. He utilized their technology, adapting it to his own technological advances and fitting himself with a culturally similar variant of armor that, as military forces wore on his planet, began his crusade of vengeance.
It is said there is little more to fear than a provoked man content with dying killing as many as he can. "Nothing to lose", as it is also said. The Black Nova had a reputation of quickly replacing crew members, and Vok gambled that even his actions would not down his kind's beneficiary so easily. Armed with axe, shortsword, pistol, and his own two hands, he cut a swath from the lower belly of the ship all the way to top deck, letting not a soul survive. Not even the cook. By the time he staggered onto deck, he'd run out of ammunition for his pistol, his axe dulled with the amount of hard suits it had cut into and through, and his shortsword chipped, soaked with blood. It was here that he cut down the last of the crew, and would face the captain.
Vok declared it a just act. The murder of his family demanded blood and retribution of equal proportions. The murder of those responsible and their families...which extended to every other crew member on the ship.
"Nevertheless..." the captain had said, and those were the last words exchanged between them before the conflict ensued. The fight was drawn out, and brutal. After almost four hours, Rodgers had managed to drive back the much larger male's unending assault. Even after he'd broken the male's shortsword, the hard suit and sheer rage had fueled Vok to continue. Numerous slashes marked his body, the rapier of his foe having little trouble cutting through his armor. Too often had he felt that sting, too often had he felt it slide so efficiently and cleanly through his being. He'd given as good as he'd gotten, but far less efficiently due to losing his weapon so early into the fight. He was certain that he'd beaten and broken bones, and at last his body refused to budge any further. To his dismay, the human captain got right back up and began his advance. Had he truly been that weak? Such a shame that all he was capable of...was to eliminate peon humans that had to rely on back stabbing or throat slitting in sleep to kill his bandmates. This...this was a true foe, however. And he managed to keep himself upright as his joints buckled. Vok admitted defeat, and made public the forfeit of his life in battle. That was an acceptable death, death on the battlefield. That was denied him though, and soon enough, Vok found himself manning the ship and the crew's duties by himself, moving to pick up more crew.
It is continued to this day that the male holds the captain in a wary and tense regard. He now understands why it is that he could not prevail against the man, or rather, why it would have been worse if he had prevailed. Shamed in his foe showing mercy....even with the use of slavery to hold him on board until the crew was replaced, Vok continues to serve aboard the vessel until he can prove that not only has he eclipsed his past self in every category possible, but to do the same with his fallen comrades. His warband would be rebuilt once he got home, and he would overthrow whatever "society" that his culture had established at that time. Then, a glorious return to the tradition that had made his culture the great and feared power it was. He would be its King, leading their race into a complete world domination...and then, THEN on to the other planets! For the moment, however, the giant remains as the senior crew member and officer, with a growing impatience to do what his race does best....spill blood and make war.
Natural Abilities: Primal fury is mostly what drives the male to extraordinary deeds and capabilities. Like the rest of his society, Vok is highly competitive, seeks challenges and to crush any that dare oppose him in any means. This has led to friendly/not-so-friendly bouts with his fellow officers. His large stature and build are natural deterrents to immediate contenders (well, the ones that are sentient anyway). This aggressive desire to well....be the best, has made him excel in whatever role he is put in. The male displays capabilities in performing above the level of function of any crew member in any position, and rivals his officers in their respective fields....short of the medical specialist. He knows how to patch himself up and keep himself going...but third party recuperation is not a skill that he values enough to try and edge in on that specialist's territory. Quite simply, Vok's mind and body are his edges. Be the best, settle for nothing less, or die a humiliated, worthless wretch.
Weapons: Since the massacre and following defeat, Vok has endeavored to continue using his large, executioner style axe, as well as keeping a re-forged, thick shortsword (that honestly would be considered a true sword in the hands of other humans.) at his side. The male has continued to keep a six-shot revolver pistol in his belt, and as always....his hard suit reinforced brute strength that has little trouble in tearing beings and most non-metal surfaces apart.
Specialization: Vok is primarily a melee specialist, using his revolver when convenient. It is also used as a humiliation kill weapon. To die by blade is both honorable and acceptable. To die by a bullet with no ceremony to it...to him, it seems a far less worthy way to end lives that are equally less worthy of dying properly. He specializes in ship-to-ship combat, being kept on the ship on nearly all voyages leads him to engage in inspecting and learning his own ship's advantages and disadvantages, and how to use/compensate for both, respectively.
- Vok has never mentioned his surname or full name to any besides Rodgers.
- Has a pendant under his suit with five teeth
- Has no romantic attraction.
- Never removes his hard suit for any purpose
- Believes short hair is disgusting and is only a tactic for the lazy and unprepared. Those that grab hair in combat to use as an advantage are both weak, and stupid. Dislikes those that have short hair and refuse to grow it out.
- Has the capability to palm your head and pick you up off the floor with ease.
- Voice Actor
Played by: Opposing Mazzy
Date of Creation: 08.22.14