FLATSALE!

Guardian's Name and Brief Description: Jaxom Atear

Born and raised on Gaia, Jaxom is freshly away from home and on his own, living the life of a young bachelor and quite happy for it. Pink hair aside, Jaxom is a surprisingly stable individual, working as a private tutor of specialty athletics for many of Gaia's less gifted and more clumsy patrons. A year into the job, and he's already dreaming of teaching a student who's actually good at something.

Criminal's Name: Aktal Emthordine Reidan

Criminal's Gender: Male

Criminal's Crime: A decade of smuggling and mining activities; illegal mining of ice crystals located within protected zones, leading to the subsequent creation of sinkholes in said zones and the large scale collapse of cities above them.

Shortened Version of Criminal's Crime for Cert (if needed): Illegal mining/smuggling activities.

Full Physical Description of the Criminal: The Yran race are dwarfish compared to many, rarely reaching 5 feet in height, and certainly never surpassing it. Aktal is considered tall by many, standing a whopping 4' 7" and weighing more than most, which he attributes both to his work and vast income. He appears vaguely humanoid in shape; square of chin and broad of shoulders, but tapering down to a narrow waist and (relatively) long, thin legs, Aktal seems rather top-heavy at first glance.

Here the human resemblance ends, however. The Yran, and Aktal as one of them, have a hardened, keratin-like skin, which appears something like pale green dry ice, with varying contours and veins appearing in darker shades of green where skin has been clipped or shaven. Sweat emits as a fine, greenish mist whenever the Yran are exposed to high temperatures or the yellow fog, and clothing is kept light and airy in accordance with the near constant warm temperatures atop the mesas.

Hair is more of an implication; the skin on the head, finger tips, and feet grow continuously in the hardened form, but are dead to nerve sensation, something akin to the horn of a rhino. The social custom is to trim the hand nails, allow the toes (two in front, one in back) to grow into large, talon-like spikes, and to carve the "hair" growths into the latest trend or fashion. Aktal prefers to keep his short, and could rather care less as to the actual appeal of the look; he takes a blade to it whenever he can no longer sit back in his chair.

Name and Brief Description of Home Planet: The planet of Ylem is one whose prime of life is, unfortunately, well and gone. Physically, the planet's ability to support life is severely limited. The planet appears as one vast ocean, dotted with primarily flat islands of varying sizes. However, a closer inspection reveals that this ocean is empy; deep, barren canyons surround each mesa-like island, canyons and crevices eroded over the millenia by a dense, corrosive yellow fog which smothers all low-lying areas to a depth of 30 feet.

There is no water. Or, more correctly, no usable, above-ground water supplies. Any deep-running rivers have long since been tapped, and what fed springs and stream exist in the lower lands are heavily contaminated by the chemicals of the fog, which no one has of yet managed to purify. The planet's entire usable water supply is born of groundwater from deep beneath the surface, which is, in turn, found primarily in the form of ice, and by the point in the planet's history, most of the areas that can be safely tapped of this ice have been drained, and the subsequent drainage of the used water means a larger contaminated concentration and a rapidly dwindling fresh water supply.

The planet's flora have evolved around these limitations of fog and water, rising in massive, broad-leafed fruit trees from the mesas clear of the bad air. Deep roots provide water, and water provides rich fruits, which in turn give life to the faunal species of the world. It is here that cities have grown, and here that, in past days, the race of the Yran flourished, building high and broadening their technology vastly in a matter of a few decades, and just as rapidly eating away the scarce resources needed to provide for such social growth.

At this point in history, the Yran society is struggling with something of a recession. The higher technologies have been set aside in favor of a return to farming, which machines existing more in the form of farm tractors and rumbling factory equipment than such luxuries as personal cars, computers, and televisions. Each island exists as a city-state unto itself, ruled under a loose form of democracy, and occasionally joining with nearby islands in trade-nations. Travel between islands, however, is incredibly difficult due to the corrosive manner of the fog; though many of the planet's metals can resist the effects for a time, maintenance on vehicles is expensive and frequent, and not worth the attention of the common people.

Survival is the primary concern; to promote survival, food and water. With most of the available groundwater tapped, there has been a growing issue of illegal ice mining. The life on the mesas is provided by the fruit trees, but the fruit trees are a clear indicator of water below, giving black market miners and easy target for their boring. Unfortunately, these activities not only put the miners at heavy risk, but the cities above them; should a miner his water instead of ice, the resulting back-flow can lead to the collapse and destruction of whatever happens to be above--trees, farms, or hospitals.

Description of Criminal's Personality, Powers, and What Makes Them Awesome: Aktal likes Aktal, and Aktal likes Aktal's mine boring machine.

Originally, Aktal had functioned under the side of good, working in an ice mine under one of the few uninhabited islands. With a meticulous mind for mechanical detail, and a social streak that had him on cheery terms with the entirety of the company's employees, Aktal had enjoyed the work and done well for himself on the site. However, when the mine ran dry and no further sites surfaced to offer work, Aktal elected to try his own luck.

He purchased an old borer from the dying company and spent the better part of a year fixing it up, then picked a site and went to work. Nevermind his permit for said site had been refused, that he was left to manage a mine's stability completely on his own, and that the slightest mistake on his part could lead to the collapse of the schoolhouse perched innocently atop his chosen location--Aktal was confident in his ability, confident in his machine, and walked away a rich man. And, this time, nothing came of it.

Aktal is not a bad fellow. He is arrogant, certainly, and perhaps overly talkative, but quick of wit and generally easy to get along with. Slow to anger and quick to please, he lives for life's simple pleasures of digging through noxious fumes and finding ice crystals larger than his leg. If one were to point the illegality of his crimes, he would counter with the knowledge that his provided ice had saved countless unnamed souls that year, and perhaps fail to acknowledge the vast wealth gained and squandered in maintaining his machine, or the various air pockets waiting to wash away islands. He means no harm, really.

Baby's name: Athimar

Full Physical Description of the Baby: Baby Athimar shares few characteristics with his original form, the only real visible resemblance being his eyes. His form, again, is vaguely humanoid; or, rather, as if one were to fill a glass humanoid with mercury, than remove all of the glass. He has two arms, two legs, and a very distinct shape, but his skin seems to flow, constantly moving as if unsure how quite to fill the given space. He always gives suggestion to the idea that he is going to flop into a puddle on the floor, and stand up as something completely different--but in reality, he is quite incapable of such.

Also, occasionally, as if the flow is interrupted by bubbles, fingers and toes will detach, but remain in place and continue to function, usually reattaching within the next minute or two none the worse for wear. Altimar also bears a thin tail about the length of his legs, which alternates in function as a third foot or hand, according to need. Around the tip of the tail, four orbs hover, similar to the detached fingers, with two orbs opposite each other connected to the tail, the two perpendicular detached, and the status of the lot switching every few minutes on a regular basis.

Hair, likewise, is only a continuation of the flow of the body, and is more of a suggestion of hair than anything actually of the sort. While his green, oval eyes have remained, the rest of his body is now a light orange in color, with golds and reds flowing among it.

Prompt Response: Quilla was disgustingly warm today. The old mine-boring cart worked at a steady pace, dredging ice crystals from the soft earth of the mine's walls at expanses of ten feet at a time. Ten feet, ten minutes, reverse, switch gears. The machine hummed merrily as the three small drills at its front switched off and the small scoops on either side took over, gathering lumps of rock and crystal to deposit in the large holding tank in back. The work was effortless for the carefully kept old mine cart, but one wouldn't know it by the temperature.

It worried him somewhat, the heat. The ice mines were normally a chilly place, requiring a thick jacket and gloves at the very least, even from the driver's seat. But today it was as warm as up to inside of dear Quilla--no, warmer, if the low hiss of sweat drifting away from his bare arms was anything to judge by. The heat didn't make sense, when it came down to it; the machine sounded fine, and the ice crystals were still ice. Where was the damned heat coming from?

He cranked the drills back in to play and fulled a gear to initiate the ice sorting, then reached for his discarded pair of gloves, waving one beside his head in the mockery of a fan. It hardly helped. "Quilla, my doll, I know you live to be around me, but try to contain your excitement. Work first, then play."

If Quilla heard, she did not bother to heed his request, and before long Aktal gave up all attempts at bearing with the heat. A harsh jerk of the gear shift was Quilla's punishment for her betrayal, and as the drills spun slowly to a halt, Aktal climbed from his seat and escaped into the deep cold of the ice cave.

This one was exceptionally silty, he noted not for the first time as he hopped down from the high driver's platform. It allowed for a nice yield, but small crystals, high potential for melting from the drill friction. Perhaps he would abandon this one and find another site, one with larger rocks. "What do you think, Quilla?" he quipped as he bend to scoop up a cube, dusting dirt from the ice's surface before popping it into his mouth. "That's why you're misbehaving, is it? Don't have enough work to occupy you."

He took another step after a sizable looking lump, and paused as his bare foot sunk into the soil, freezing in the place at the low squelch that resulted. After a moment passed, he looked down, lifting his foot to verify the thick layer of mud covering the bottom. Lifting his head, he peered along the perimeter of the circle of vision offered by the light's over the driver's platform. Sure enough, the ground beneath the drills gleamed distinctly wet, and a slow trickle ran down from the tip of the far right.

No longer was the chill refreshing; it sunk into his bones, cold and dead and menacing. Aktal lifted his feet and ran like hell, climbing the four steps back to the platform and barring the door shut behind himself. He collapsed into his chair and cranked a lever, and the machine revved back to lift, racing backwards up the tunnel. Hardly had the he made twenty feet before he saw a shallow stream following him up the way, and twenty feet later still the flow had increased to a rushing tide. Half way to the surface, the water pocket caught up with him, tossing and rolling the machine like a rag doll, and spitting it from the mine's hidden mouth like a ball from a canon.

When he woke, Quilla was upside-down, her small front window smashed into mud that still showed trickles of moving water beneath it. He was alive. And momentarily he rejoiced, laughing aloud and climbing over his bent and broken chair, with only a wince for a sore knee. However, his laughter was soon answered with a voice from outside, and the sound of someone banging on the horribly dented door. So much for good luck.