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Artist Info: 
Name: Dakelh Ophellian. 
Species: Undercurrent reptillian 
Gender:Male 
Age: 232 moon cycles. 
Age in human years: 90. 
Held appearance: 12 (This is all fan-based if you've watched IZ, it's very confusing by the way he acts and the way he's thought out to be. Not really sure of his age..but in IZ he's in middle school.) 
 
Appearance: 
Height: 59 inches 
Weight: Lean. 93 pounds 
Heath: Nourished/ Healthy. 
Eye color: Magenta or green 
Antennae: Straight. 
Skin: Translucent green. Hybrid camouflager. 
Hair: Violet or in some cases, black as you see in the film and his pictures. 
 
---------------------Across of the capsules opaque lid flashed the Naomi alien markings in code. If one were to decipher these symbols it would have spelled out: Dakelh #10593 -Task occupation: Earth genocide. ---------------------- 
The vessel moved fluidly through the sixth virtues and dimensions of what human society could not wield. Without even making an audible hum or hiss as it sailed the galaxy in pursuit of the child's destination. The trip lasted six whole months before it finally entered earth's solar system. Orbiting around the sun, only to be sling shotted into the earth's orbit by the liquid fluid. The recess emitted into suctions, and pushed itself with an extra thrust into the earth's gravitated pull. Disguising itself as a shooting star as it shot across the earthly sky, as it was now dark when the planet had been reached. The capsule finally found it's landing zone, hovering just thirteen feet in between a spacious gap of desert terrain. No one seemingly to take notice as the vessel landed, implanting itself into the ground as the workers worked around it. A turbine like drill replacing the recesses beneath it as it dug through the soil, planting its base. 
___________________________________________________________ 
The city was buzzing with the sights, smells, and sounds of market day. Wooden shutters banged against stone in every thoroughfare and alley, as servants and householders opened their windows to the air before the sun became too hot. Coopers watched their apprentices rolling barrels over the cobbles, clattering and bumping and jolting, racing each other to get to the taverns before their rivals. Carts jerked awkwardly over the uneven ground, their wheels creaking and sticking from time to time as they rumbled toward the main square. 
The sun was just climbing high over the Egyptian pyramids down onto the city that sat in there shadow flooding sections of the street with slats of bright light. Most of the market traders were regulars and had set up in their usual places. The smell of hot fat filled Sadhin's nose the moment he waled into the square. He loitered at a stall where a man was frying pancakes, turning them on a hot griddle. The smell of thick bean soup and warm mitadenc bread, made from half barley and half wheat, stimulated his appetite. He walked past stalls selling buckles and pots, woolen cloths, skins and leathers, both local goods and more exotic belts and purses from the deepest depths of Egypt, but he didn't stop. He paused a while by a stall of offering knives and scissors for shearing sheap, before moving to the corner of the square where most of the live animals were penned. There were always lots of chickens and capons in wooden cages, sometimes larks and wrens, which fluted and whistled. His favorite were the rabbits, all squashed together in a heap of brown, black, and white fur. 
Sadhin walked past the stalls selling grain and salt, white meats, ale from casks and wine, until he found himself at a stand selling herbs and exotic spices. This was where most of theft-dealing took place, he'd snag a couple of herbs for his mother's healing soups and of course for her brews and teas. Sometimes if he were lucky enough, he'd snatch a few oranges for his brothers and sisters. In front of the table of spices was a merchant, one that Sadhin had never seen. He frowned when it dawned on him that the old man who had worked their wasn't joking when he rambled on about quitting his job and letting his apprentice--who, Sadhin never saw around the shop, take his primary position and work the shop himself. Which was a minus for Sadhin, the old boot had some real bad eyes. Sadhin sized the new merchant, never had he seen a man so tall, so black. He was dressed in long, shimmering blue robes, a shining silk turban and red and gold pointed slippers. His skin was darker even than that of the gypsies from South Africa, over the mountains. Sadhin guessed he must be from the south, although he'd never met anyone from there. 
The new merchant had laid out his display in the shape of a wheel; greens and yellows, oranges, browns and reds, ocher. At the front were rosemary and parsley, garlic, marigold and lavender, but at the back were more expensive spices, such as cardamon, nutmeg, and saffron. Sadhin hardly ever went for the expensive ones considering the fact that he didn't recognize any of them, but he was already looking forward to the dried ginseng which sat in a brown wooden bowl. 
He took a step forward just as the merchant went to tend to a customer on the far side of the shop. His hand had reached over from beneath his shawl, fingers outstretched, he was just about to make a quick swipe at the dried herbs when he heard roar in a voice like thunder. Before Sadhin had known what was happening, a heavy dark hand had grabbed his skinny wrist. The merchant cuffed Sadhin around the head, sending him flying bck into a woman standing behind, who sarted shoughting. Straight away a crowd started to gather. Sadhin mumbled an apology to the woman, as he bolted from the crime scene, he can hear the man screaming at a guard near the gate. Shit, Sadhin thought to himself as he shouldered his wa through. H eiddn't want to get caught up in trouble. 
He rounded a few shops, knowing if he could just make it through a day without getting caught his name would be clear off the wanted list. The guards were shoving past the crowd, the boys reputation was already clouded with dirt to the authorities from past ordeals with braking the law. Mostly theft, which was common but with Sadhin there was only one problem, he could never be caught. It had become an obsession to the council, the authorities, and some of the shop keepers to keep a keen eye out for the boy, but of course in the matter of seconds it took to realize that something was stolen the boy had whizzed his way out of sight. Now Sadhin had been caught in the act, no excuse would serve for this one. The guards were plowing through people, badgering people over the same question that had now etched itself into the boy's head as they asked flatly ''have you seen a boy about...'' 
Sadhin had just squeezed himself onto an old back alley behind a salted meats shop when he heard the sound. A galloping, through the crowded streets of the city, Sadhin craned his neck around the corner to justify his hearing and sure enough there came a guard, with complete disregard for anybody who got in his way. Men were yelling at him to dismount. Women snatched their children from under the thundering hooves. A couple of unchained dogs jumped at the house, backing and snarling and snapping at its hind legs. The rider took no notice. The horse was sweating badly, even from the distance Sadhin could see the lines of white foam on its withers and round its mouth . Sadhin swallowed as two more followed shortly behind, knowing it was for him. Never had they been this drastic before, he thought to himself... something seemed off. The men arrived at the gate, speaking with the guards but never dismounting their horses. Sadhin could hear them even from the distance. ''Do you think it's him?'', ''Of course it was him, who else could've stole from the palace so effortlessly?'' Sadhin's mouth dropped. ''We have to find him, interrogate him, the stolen goods are one thing but from the palace--I've had enough of his tyranny!' 
Sadhin's shoulders sagged as he backed up into the alley. He turned on his heels and ran, ran for his life. Sadhin knew every shortcut in the City and he scampered in and out of the jostling arms and legs, dodging between tapping hooves of sheeps and goats, the donkeys and mules with goods and baskets, the pigs, lazy and slow, as they plodded their way through the streets. ''Hey!'' the voice was familiar, but it seemed to be coming from a long way away. Realizing that his headdress had flown off, no longer shielding the sides of his face he pulled his shawl up over his head with hands that trembled as much from exhaustion as shock. He edged forward, wrapping the material across the front of his mouth and nose, hoping to conceal himself. ''There he is!" The voice sounded closer, and Sadhin thought he was going to faint. The guards on duty at the front entrance of the city were nodding most local people through without question, but stopping vagabonds, gypsies and beggars, demanding to know their business in the city. They let Sadhin through with barely a glance as they confiscated the belongings of a gypsy. 
''Stop that boy!'' the guard at the gate weren't quick enough as the tunnel of people going in and out of the city of Samdi had stalled him some time. Sadhin bit down on his lip hard, drawing blood. Finally he was out of the guards sight, disappearing behind a ragged curtain that was used as a wall. An old mattress was sprawled out on the floor, with an empty bowl beside it behind the curtain. There was no roof, and Sadhin looked up to the sky that was now a pale blue, the color of forget-me-nots. He watched the golden sunlight dancing on the surface of the Pyramid's in their wide expanse and felt the breath of the wind on his skin, he was reluctant to return to the streets with the hanging threat over his head but he had no choice. He pulled the curtain aside just barely, seeing the cost was clear he was just about to run out when a shout sounded nearby. But how? How could they have found him? Trackers. The word had left his lips just as fast as his thoughts and he finds himself stepping out from behind the curtain and into the eye of publicity. 
He runs, his breathing coming in raged gasps until his lungs burned from being exposed to the sandy air, the adrenaline kicking back in to the sounds of shouts in the distance. He is half aware of were his feet are taking him, and half running out of conscious instinct; the pyramids. Being the largest ancientcies that had the city in its shadow. Something catches his attention when he reaches the first pyramid standing in it's peaceful grace, he feels the cool clay against the sun and collapses onto it. His back, shoulders and fingers were stiff, his legs sore. He lean back against the pyramid, pulling a canteen from his belt. The topper came loose with a gentle pop, the water inside is warm but he's to thirsty to care and drinks it all down in three viscous gulps. His shrunken stomach full from his perch, he lay back against the pyramid and closed his eyes, telling himself a few minutes wouldn't hurt, and closed his eyes. 
The sound of birds screeching overhead awoke him. Sadhin sat up with a start. As he looked up through the quilt of workers residue, he couldn't remember where he was. Then everything flooded back. He sagged around the cool walls. The moon was now high in a sky empty of clouds. The world quieted below him. Sagging back down into the cool clay stone, he stared at the sky, already missing his home knowing it wouldn't be a smart idea to go back now. Stealing from the market was one thing but stealing from the palace was suicide. One he wasn't that stupid to have attempt, the things he stole were mandatory for survival. What could he have possibly stolen from the palace anyway? His pity-party comes to an end when he notices that there's a narrow opening visible in the side of the pyramid that hadn't been there before. He didn't remember seeing it on his way here. It was like a doorway cut into the rock. 
It's said these mountains are riddled with hidden passages and caves, so he's not surprised. And yet, Sadhin thinks, somehow, he knew the doorway was there, although there's no way of telling from the outside. He hesitates, he knows that the trackers will be on him by morning and this could be his one shot of shelter. It is stupid, possibly even dangerous. He delays his prior instinct and stands up slowly, making his way down towards the mouth of the cave. 
There is a deep depression n the ground at the mouth of the cave, where a stone stands guard. The damp earth is alive with the frantic writing of worms and beetles exposed suddenly to the light and heat after so long. Sadhin peers into the darkness. The opening is no more than one and half meters high and about a meter wide and the edges are irregular and rough. It seems to be natural rather than man-made, although when he runs his fingers up and down the rock, he finds curiously smooth patches where the boulder rested. 
Slowly, his eyes become accustomed to the gloom. Velvet black gives away to charcoal gray and he sees that he is looking into a long, narrow tunnel. He feels the short hairs rise on the back of his neck, as if to warn him that there is something lurking in the darkness that would be better left undisturbed. But that's just childish superstition and he brushes the feeling away. He takes a deep breath and steps forward into the passageway. Straight away, the smell of long-hidden, subterranean air envelops him, filling his mouth and throat and lungs. It's coool and damp, not the dry, poisonous gases of a sealed tomb. He guesses there must be some source of fresh air. But just in case, he rummages in the pockets of his worn pants until he finds a pack of matches he had stolen two days ago. 
He flicks it against the stone, double-chcking that there is oxygen. The flame gutters in a breath of wind, but it does not go out. Feeling nervous and slightly guilty, Sadhin cautiously steps forward. The light from the flame is weak, but it illuminates the path immediately in front of him, throwing shadows on the jagged yellow walls littered in pictographic ancient writing. As he moves father in, he feels the chill air curl around his bare legs and arms like a cat. He is walking downhill. He can feel the ground slopping away beneath his feet, uneven and gritty. The scnruch of the stones and gravel is loud in the confined, hushed space. He is aware of the daylight getting fainter and fainter at his back, the farther and deeper he does. 
Abruptly, he does not want to go on. He does not want to be here at all. Yet there is something inevitable about, showing that is drawing him deeper into the belly of the pyramid. After another ten meters the tunnel comes to an end. He finds himself standing at the threshold of a cavernous enclosed chamber. He is standing on a natural stone platform. A couple of shallow, wide steps directly in front of him lead to the main area where the ground has been leved flat and smooth. THe cavern is about ten meters long and perhaps five meters wide, clearly fashioned by the hands of men rather than by nature alone. The roof is low and vaulted, like the ceiling of a crypt. 
Keeping his eyes trained on the walls, he moves closer and closer towards the end. His foot knocks something hard on the ground. There is a faint, hollow thump and the sound of something rolling, as if an object has shifted out of position. Then all to suddenly he can feel malevolence crawling over his skin, his scalp, the soles of his feet. The cave is suddenly cold, the ground sways and tilts, and then gracefully begins to fall from out under him. 
He is falling, his courage falters. Fear catches in his throat, freezing the breath in his lungs as he descends further down into the darkness. The match had blown out. The cave is plunged in pure and utter darkness, and he has succumb to it. Then all to quickly, his hands and knees hit stone and he scrambles to his feet in the darkness. He fumbles quickly for another match, lights it against the pack and holds it up in the open dry air. 
His eyes widen at what he sees. Screens, holographic screens light the alien grounds. Pods, that looked almost like eggs were hooked up to these screens beyond technology that Sadhin had never seen before. The capsules looked like a grey egg that had been gutted and stuffed with pillows that were the exact shade of peachy-pink as a clam’s guts. A ventilation mask attached to a gauze mesh tech was attached to each pod and a nitrous oxide gas seemed to be pumping out of its tube. Shock steals Sadhin's breath. ''My god...'' The echo of his voice sounds somehow hostile and threatening in the eerie silence of the machines. 
Now, he is desperate to get out of the chamber, back to the safe, bright moonlight. But he's too late. The sound of his voice bounces off the walls, there was a disorientated shift and a loud humming followed. Above him or behind him, he cannot tell where, there are footsteps. The sound bounces around the confined space, ricochets off the rock and stone. Something is coming. 
Sadhins pins around in alarm, dropping the match. The chamber is plunged in darkness. He tries to return, but he is disoriented in the dark and cannot find the way out. He stumbles. His legs go from under him. He falls. A dull ache starts to seep through his body. Something warm and smooth is trickling slowly down his back. He feels no pain as his head hits the ground, which is somehow coola nd soothing against his skin. Now, all noise and confusion and fear are fading away. His eyes flicker shut. He is no longer aware of anything orther than his voice, which seems to be coming from a long way away. 
In his last fractured moments of consciousness, he hears the sounds of his attackers. Harsh hostile pops and clicks, that sounded inhuman. The light fractures, he feels himself being dragged along the dirt floor as his conscious slips away into darkness. 
 
 
 
The ceiling of the room is low and there are large square tiles on the floor the color of red mountain earth, keeping it cool despite the heat outside. A pool of yellow light cast by a recess in the ceiling etched itself into the boy's eyes as they fluttered open. The light blurred his vision. A computerized voice could be heard somewhere throughout the room. ''Transaction ready.'' Sadhin didn't understand what this unnaturally calm voice was saying to him only that it stirred the sound of ancient metal coming back to life. Before he could grasp the gist of what was happening he heard a mechanical whine and whir- then wires shot out from the top and bottom of the tank, latching onto his limbs, waist, and head. An electric surge filled Sadhin's ears- and then his mind was blasted almost to Mars as a crackling fire flashed through his skin and charred his bones. If he screamed, he was in too much agony to hear it himself. Immediately fluid filled his mouth and slid down his throat. Panicking, he attempted to scream and heard the sound released as a bubbling warble, distorted by the liquid surrounding him. He clenched his fists and forced himself to calm. Despite being completely submersed, he was not suffocating. The fluid somehow provided him with oxygen, probably by a strange form of osmosis through his skin. 
 
Suddenly he feels as if there is an iron band around his neck, crushing his windpipe. His hands fly up to his throat as he struggles for breath. The high thin note of the computerized voice once more steady and persistent, drowning him out. A wae of nausea sweeps through him. He thinks he's going to pass out and clutches one of the wrires for dear life. The sharp pain helps him not to loose himself. Another wave of nausea overwhelms him and he hears the familiar surge of the wires charging again and then pain streaked through him like a knife cutting through grease. He hoped he only imagined the accompanying crackle in his skin. It was twenty bolts of lightning striking at once. Sadhin felt himself sizzle and wondered if the bubbling was the liquid in which he floated or his own blood. Then came an odd sensation from within, like something coiling inside him, coiling and writhing and slithering. 
Completely unaware of it, he had been sedated. The computer had least half of his genetic structure derived from him, with modifications ready to electronically transfer the computers consciousness out of the silicon realm into a life of the flesh. The boy's memory was being burnt, flashes of his childhood appeared before his eyes in short quick flashes to replaced by another entity, a whole new body of knowledge and personality. Another burnt memory had come alive in the back of his mind, a sense of recognition followed and suddenly the memories were adjourned, overlapping the false ones. 
Slowly the computer ran a scan over the incubator, as it's new occupant reached maturity. Sadhin was no more, what greeted the computer monitor was what had greeted it 100 decades ago. The incubator projected the mass of its lubrication into a ventilator, storing the gel for later use. As the lid of the incubator slowly lifted with an audible groan, steam escaped from the small confined space. The occupied chamber was filled with a comfortable amount of steam. Midnight black hair floated along the surface of the gel like material like split ink in a puddle. Slowly a shaky hand raised to meet the side of the incubator. 
Two fiery sequins behind two dark smudges around his eyes emitted itself in their fiery green glow. At first they appeared dull behind the dark smudges but as consciousness returned to him abruptly, wrenching him from nothingness as it alwas did and deposing him firmly in reality, the eyes illumined a green fluroscent glow. His Pak, that had been reattached by the computer announced that he had been offline for two decades. His brain, still in the midst of bringing all his systems back online, played his final words over and over again on an infinite loop. 
He had watched, blank smiles etched permanently on their faces as though their newest acquisition were playing yet another of his tricks on them and the explanation would be forthcoming. He watched them die and then ran away in their ship. A defect, a reject, the horror dawned upon his perfect features before his brain submitted, but the truth was so coarse, so cold and unforgiving he wasn't ready to accept it. 
Stepping out of the incubator's time capsule was a more difficult task than he had expected. He wobbled slightly, one leg swinging over the pod's firm. He clutched at the sides of the incubator lifting himself up and out of the tank. He wobbled slightly, one hand still clutching the capsule as he tested out his legs. The muscles were strong and held him easily, being the same muscles that propelled him through his planets water at speeds of up to twenty miles an hour if he wished. It was balance that he was struggling with, his steps were awkward and confused as he slowly got the hang of working one limb at a time. Keeping his eyes trained on his legs, he took a moment to survey his surroundings. The steam evaporates into a thin fog as it clears around the room, the heat curling around his new naked body. 
His fingers reach out to hold onto something as he walks around the confined room. The computerized voice counseling him in its company. There are other pods besides his own, but all of them are empty. The computer explains the landing site had interfered with the technology, his fellow crew mates weren't as lucky to survive the dormant slumber. As his mind took in this slowly, he realized he was standing at the edge of a shallow grave, a slight depression in the ground looking out to the other pods. In the pods were skeletal remains of his alien anatomy, the bones picked clean by time. The blind sockets of one skull staring up at him. There is nothing restful about the grave. No sense of peace. And Sadhin is determined to not give into fear. 
''Dakelh, unit #51107, please step into the laboratory for further registration.'' Dakelh? So that was his name. He shivered and forced himself to walk in the direction he had been obstructed. He stands in the dark room, starch naked, shaking to the cold. A mechanical arm contracting from a recess in the walls handed to him a set of Naomi clothing. The material looked familiar, it wasn't like any man-made craftsmanship, it felt like thin leather and it was a one piece suit. After rubbing the material between his three clawed digits, he got dressed, the material whispering over his naked body as he pulled it up to his neck. It stuck to him like glue, but was surprisingly comfortable. 
After getting dressed he came back to a tray with neatly wrapped bread and a strange assortment of fruit he hadn't recognized. Glancing idly at the food his stomach twisted. 
Grateful for the food, he didn't waste any time as he grabbed a piece of squared clemmentine and dug his teeth into the ripe, and juicy flesh. His sharp canines cut easily into it's flesh, making short work of the first offered bit of fruit. After hungrily consuming what had been offered, he lightly licked his fingers, picking at the bread before tearing a large chunk out of it. It tasted of a strange combination of wheat, salt and weed, but he was ravenous. It was as good a meal he had ever eaten. Finished with his meal he stalked over towards the computer, it's apparatus becoming familiar to him. ''Dakelh, unit#511107, please head up to the confiscated level. Landing site, Egypt. Approximate designation, the east pyramid.'' Dakelh gave the computer a quizzical look before light suddenly was spilling into the room, a door had open in the far left corner. 
Dakelh taking it for his way out of the chamber. He held his hesitant look, before walking over to the door and out of it, the door shutting abruptly behind him. The light fractures his vision, he holds his hand over his eyes to shield out the blinding sun as it is now morning. He is in a tunnel, light protrudes through a narrow opening, and a window beam on the ceilings. There are doric columns that allow a striping of charcoal and honey to blend into the clay. He walks steadily, a curious prickling familiarly bothers him that she cannot account for. He is about to descend the steps of the pyramid hen he notices there are letters--no, pictures inscribed on the stone on one of the columns, as though compelled to it despite the fragments of pictographic scrawling on the other columns. Only the first three pictures are legible. The others have been eroded or chipped away. He rubs at the dirt with his fingers. 
One picture appears to be a hovercraft, pictures of humanoid looking creatures are pointing towards the craft. As his eyes wander on, he sees something that strikes him, in the far left corner, in one of the crafts he could make out a creature. A creature distinguishable from all the rest that point to it, it's eyes are large and elongated, it's head a squiarish pear shape. It's eyes look cold and unforgiving, and it seems to be hovering over the pyramids. Then all to suddenly a faint memory rippes across the surface of his unconscious mind, like a song long forgotten. 
Curiosity fights with premonition and he feeds the goosebumps on his slim arms, from unease or the chill of the cave, he cannot say. He takes a deep breath and then takes a step into the ebony darkness, not wanting to step into the light. He can just make out the back wall of the cave when suddenly his eyes began to glow, his mouth flew open and his head shot back in a mid-scream. 
Streaking across the endless blue sky was a trail of green light, a strangely colored ball of what looked like fire tore through the atmosphere as it ascended into the heavens. The sun's light seemed to be absorbed by the rugged shape, like sparks from an anvil. Leaking from it's artificial twilight was a huge mass of luminous gas as it sped out of Earth visibly hurtling fragments of rock and other visible materials that glinted like sequins that would bring huge calamity to Earth. The comet seemed to split into two coherent pieces, as he watched, there was another jet of thick green gas visibly coming from it. 
He heard the screams coming from the village below, but the cries die out in his ears to be replaced by a subtle ringing. Lights were coming from the pyramids crowns, as though something had triggered them. His eyes returned to normal and he fell back against the floor, his body shaking. And it slowly dawned on him, his fingers clenching into fists as he stared at the alignment of lights overhead. 
Failure. A defect, the doyens had left him here for retribution, an exile. It was all coming back to him and his chest heaved with the heaviness of it all. He had blown up one of the invaders ships, he recalls. During the mass invasion he had annihilated almost all of the invaders, accidentally in one of his futile project attempts gone wrong. As a way to get rid of him, the doyens had sent him to this planet in hopes that he would conquer it or die trying. ''Now they know..'' he whispered to himself. The unearthly light was a signal, an indicator that the mission was still on, that he was still here. Staring up into the indenture of the pyramid's crown, boxed in by the square units made to build it. His lips pulled back into a sneer, sharp canines were evident as his lips curved up into a maniacal smile. His body shook with laughter, as he raised his chin to the skies. 
''DAKELH IS HERE!'' He laughed, ''YOU HEAR ME!? DAKELH IS HERE!'' his laughter sounded across the desert terrain, his mighty laughter shaking the small body that possessed it. Sounding upon the ears of the villagers below that stared at the pyramids as the laughter bounced off of it's all walls, it sounded more like a shrill cry when it came down to them, a battle cry. They went on with their average day as humans do, oblivious to the opposing threat that stood amongst them. ___________________________________________________________ 
BE AWARE: 
Dakelh's personality is hindered by the prejudice approach to species outside of his own. He was raised under a society that both loathes any superior life form, and underestimates them despite any significant perks it may have. Dakelh is very childish, arrogant, egotistic, but despite all those characteristics he has a soft spot. Like everything in this mixed up galaxy and world of ours, Dakelh has a heart it just takes time to find it. He is unaware of human morals and customs, and will ask of almost anything, even if it were embarrassing or inappropriate he would more than likely be unaware. He had come to the planet to search and learn about it's customs, and also to set up a plan on how to rid the earth of it's occupants. <3 
 
This short, cute, and close-minded little alien if exposed to certain perks just may spare the products of this planet. But if he cannot be convinced otherwise... 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I'd like to thank a few fellow writers and hold a lot of credit towards what this explicit was based off of: 
1. The obvious, Invader Zim. 
2. Apeller a grand friend of mine, who drew fanbases off of this which you can view on Deviantart. 
3. Secondary alternations 
4.Peeter for editing, and improvising. 
5. Jesus Orellana for the movie, wasn't dedicated to this text though but i'm glad he allowed me to use it for it. 
6. Gerudo Maiden~for the signature picture 
 
Character appearance clarification: 
 
 
 
This is for Rp uses only. Please enjoy: 
Authors note: 
Hi. You can call me Dake, or Dakelh. Which is my real name it means water passer, which is the relationship of undercurrents which is what we see here. 
I'm a huge Invader Zim nerd, actually no. I'm not. XD But I love writing fanbases for people, aswell as myself. I'm sixteen, live in New York with my bestie roomie: Damien. You could see us drawing a lot on Deviant art, writing, we're thinking about coming up with a published book this year so stay tuned with that. Furhter updates is on tumblr, Facebook, Deviantart, etc.<3 So feel free to check into that. Or Fanfiction. I'm not usually on, I'm busy a lot. I've just applied to art school, working my butt off with that. I moved to America from England actually and loved the ethnics and culture of this place aswell as my homeland. <3 So uh yeah that's all about me. 
 
if you wish to know what i'm like outside of my rpc, than get to know me. I'd love to hear from you and don't worry I don't bite! Well, my rpc does so be mindful of that. 
 
CONCLUSION: WARNING: 
Dakelhs species is very hostile and very egotistic. If ever I say something that you take to heart just tell me. I don't mean it at all, it's just my rpc absolutely hates anyone outside of his own species which is what he's been taught. But hopefully he'll have a different insight when he sees the light of this planet..if not, have fun seeing your planet reduced to ash I guess. I can get really into character and become really unaware of your feelings towards his behavior, if your upset by his attitude please don't just let it sit, actually tell me. 
 
 
QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS: 
 
Who is Sadhin and why is he mentioned in the introduction and throughout? 
 
Sadhin is any ordinary kid. The whole irony behind his past is that he is seen as a criminal, shunned by his own kind from his theft and Dakelh is seen as a criminal shunned by his own kind. Sadhin is needed because Dakelh's biological body has failed him, the computers apparatus was enabled to keep him alive after so many decades. Since he was the main pursuit of the mission. But his body couldn't function, so it waited to allure a host down into the base, and Sadhin was just unfortunate enough to be that body. Dakelh submerges with Sadhin's body. Genetic modifications are made, and basically Sadhin's energy and bio-product is stripped, and put into Dakelh's body. Yes. He experienced a horrible death, but one for the team right? So Sadhin was a big part of Dakelh's awakening. Which kinda adds onto the irony--that Dakelh hates the humans when he was in fact enabilized by one, contracting some of its code. 
 
How does a Naomi receive it's training?: 
 
As a smeet, a pak is attached permanently to the bag of the hatchling. Afterwards, the child is specialized at a young age in computerized tutoring, genetics and code are transmitted within the pak, that will stay with the child for life. This pak not only transmits and deciphers data, but it can also store data. Which is how the Naomi civilization can make it so far, and pick up on the tiniest bit of their conquered planets knowledge. 
 
Why do Doyens have two fingers, and their species are naturally born with 3? 
 
It is a Naomi tradition for the leader to cut off their thumbs, almost like a wisdom tooth. It symbolizes power, endurance, and devotion. The removal of the thumb is most painful, and the Doyen must withstand this removal without anything anastasia or medical. 
 
How did the base form from such a little capsule? 
 
Well, inevitably the base is the main factor for synthesizing the Naomi plan, since it is a piece of alien technology some say it is gravitated suspension that can hold such a small back to the capsule and when it opens. The gravitated suspension is released, like a band slowly unwinding. Not on earth, as something held tightly bound will burst free once loosened. No, the Naomis have complicated a way to hold something tightly wound, and once unwind, it can remain as is. 
 
How could the child's parent just leave the infant without a second thought? 
 
Well, as mentioned before Naomi's don't follow some of the human morals or actions. They aren't as maternal, some are, but it is rare to keep the infant with it's parent. Though it would be healthier, the Naomi focus more on trying to increase the empire by having everyone confined to their position. Having an infant running about could foil plans. Which would make them inferior beings, and Naomis cannot have that. 
 
Also, it is rare for Naomi parents to stay as mates. They mate, and move on as though nothing happened it's only natural. It's like a one nighter except one of the partner HAS to get pregnant. No matter the gender. However, being the warring race Naomi were the 'female' of the species was bred out of the genetic gene pool for the most part. Being a female was a genetic anomaly and didn't happen very often. Female bodies were weaker, smaller, and less durable than the male of the species. They were a conquering race, they had to be tough and strong and resilient to most everything so it was only natural they would weed out the weakness of their race. 
 
Instead they had modified their genes; created the 'super organ' all Naomi had and created it so males would have the ability to bear smeets just like females. 
 
Do the Naomi have to eat or sleep? 
Nope. B ] 
 
-Anymore questions? Please comment below! I might get to them, or...Zack. Or anywhere else on the interwebs that you could find me as The Invader. 
 
Why was Dakelh exiled? 
 
During his planets 'doom day' launch he had accidentally destroyed a Naomi ship with half of the planets invaders inside. The doyens were impressed but under the distress of their loss, and improvised choosing to send him out of their hair by giving him a mission, the genocide of the earth. 
 
Why does Dakelh look like a girl? 
 
Well, his species don't distinguish gender stereotype. Females usually are distinguished by their antennae not on how they look or act. So a Naomi wears just about anything out of their hearts content. 'Dressing like a girl' isn't akin to the alien species, because there is no formal way to dress for the specific gender. 
_____________________________________ 
 
WHY RP? 
 
Because it's a huge relief to writers who wish to excel in the field of writing. You're not only expressing yourselves by reaching every aspect of your personality and what you can put forth to make this personality foster characteristics of the unknown, mentally. But you're also allowing diffusion to take place, an exchange of ideas and creativity. When you're writing you have to be open-minded to new customs and new genres of writing. Also it makes you more aware of your flaws, which is another plus because most writers are to close-minded to actually acknowledge their own flaws. 
People may not understand the concept of rp, but from retrospect it's got me a long way on my roads to becoming a writer. Also, having a rpc isn't just throwing a name and a genre onto a character, it has to be well thought up. Whilst doing this you're prepping yourself on how you'd want your character to look and act if someone were to read it. The effort put into making the character come alive almost as though you were on a stage set, acting him out, is an exhilarating and both exotic experience. Once you've reached that moment of satisfaction, you know you've done well. 
Enough said, rp to me is just another way of writing. So if you're a good writer but want others to engage in that writing and vice versa, not bottling your talent up on another piece of paper where it might be discarded and forgotten, you can always PM me or make a post. I would love to see new writers join the fun of that is the experience of Rp.
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