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  1. Yesterday
  2. Tobias flexed his shoulders back for a moment, trying to read what exactly was going on. Physically and through the Force. He would focus on that for the next few moments, debating what to do.
  3. Chaos erupted out of the ground in the form of scavenged battle droids repurposed by Kain for his schemes. There seemed to be little in the way of coordination or anything resembling a directed push towards an objective, which ran contrary to the profile on HVT-1, but maybe blocking communications galaxy wide had pushed him to the edge of his limits in terms of processing power. Up above, their air support was engaged in its own sortie against enemy fighters. The initial confusion of the attack had claimed several casualties, but once the element of surprise was lost the stormtroopers were able to quickly reform behind cover and fire directed counter volleys. Naitan’s squad was not at all subtly keeping him off of the fire line, and rather than disrupt their formation he shouldered his rifle and drew his EC-17 while monitoring his scanner and calling out targets. Getting people killed over a tantrum about getting benched would prove nothing except that he didn’t belong. The attack was further blunted by the arrival of a small force of Mandalorian mercenaries. Command hadn’t hired them, but they were likely Protectors desperately trying to salvage their reputation after the terror attack on Coruscant by a Mandalorian death cult. It seemed like his homeworld couldn’t make it through a year without some sort of terrorist attack or full scale battle.
  4. Last week
  5. AXEL'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity Real Name: XL-37 A.K.A: 'Axel' Homeworld: Space Station Species: Arkanian (Genetically Engineered Clone) Physical Description Age: Mentally 10, Appears about 30 Height: 6' Weight: 160 lbs Hair: White Eyes: Pale white Sex: Male Distinguishing Marks: Axel has a barcode on the inside of his right forearm, running roughly from his wrist halfway to his elbow. This is programmed into the pigmentation coding of his genetic structure and cannot be removed. Equipment Clothing or Armor: Lab clothes, robes or other clothing he's stolen. Weapon: Doesn't usually carry a weapon, but is generally handy with blunt objects or anything laying around when the need arises. Lab techs disallow him to have possessions. Common Inventory: Only what he manages to steal between deaths. Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force User Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Current Faction Affiliation: None, and will likely remain that way, but he'd probably get along with the Sith if necessary. Current Faction Rank: N/A History Force Side: Grey / Dark Trained by: N/A Trained who: N/A Known Skills: N/A Background: XL-37, or "Axel" as he prefers to be called, was created in a lab. His genes are mostly Arkanian, but with some other species mixed in. Rather than a "perfect being" that Arkanians typically strive for, he was created to study the gene interactions of other human subspecies with Arkanian genes to potentially identify any genes that may have left the typical Arkanian gene pool via genetic drift. As such, he is treated as beneath the rest of Arkanian society to include the lab techs that made him, almost like property or a slave. However, Axel sees himself as just a member of the dysfunctional "family" that comprises the lab staff, and intends them no harm. They're the only family he has, after all. He has an exceptionally strong connection with the Force due to minor genetic mixing with several other human subspecies that are typically strong in the Force, but cannot manipulate it like a Jedi or Sith would. He might be able to with training, but because of his experiences he's unlikely to want to unless dire circumstances arise. Axel has also died several times, become one with the Force, and then been called back to another cloned body back in the lab, and as such doesn't really fear death or pain in the same way others typically do. He's been known to kill himself when he's tired and wants to "sleep," to the chagrin of the lab workers who wind up cleaning up the mess. It gives them more opportunities to examine his changing genetic profile and cerebral structure as he is cloned, however, so this behavior is not discouraged. Ship Registration Axel does not own a ship and cannot fly. Should he attempt to, he might be able to awkwardly manage things, however he would likely crash, resulting in the death of all aboard. This doesn't really bother him, as he has done this on a few occasions, thankfully to ships where he was the only one aboard.
  6. Table of Contents 1. Introduction 2. The Sheet 3. Blank-by-blank Walkthrough 4. IMPORTANT! Completing your Application to the RP ---------------------------------------------- ----- 1. Introduction ----- ---------------------------------------------- Before you can post in the RP, you must fill out a character sheet and a ship registration (if you would like a ship). Details listed will be available to help inform other players about your character, as well as inform Mods of useful information in the event of a ruling. To create your character sheet, create a new post in this forum, and title it "____'s Character Sheet," Then follow the instructions for filling out the sheet itself listed below. Please take care to read the ENTIRE thread before Posting. Rules to consider: 1. Until you have leveled at least one character to Knight rank (or equivalent), you are limited to one character at a time. You may scrap a character and start again, but you may only have one character. This is to help ease newer players into our setting. As such, these characters also may not start with any Force training or functional lightsabers. Lightsabers will be built IC during FU training at the Master’s discretion. 2. Players who already have a character at Knight rank (or equivalent) or higher may make new characters starting at that equivalent rank. These characters are restricted to generic backstories, i.e. no justification for preexisting exotic powers or abilities. FUs can have a moderate command of the Force appropriate to someone just promoted to said rank. Exotic powers and the like must be trained IC. 3. You may not play a canon character, nor be related to any canon characters. You may not own unique canon items, including but not limited to singularly unique droids from canon and relics from canon characters. 4. Several species are banned from the RP due to incompatibility with the setting or mechanics of the RP. Such species include Celestials, Yuuzhan Vong, and others. Check with a Mod to see whether the species you wish to play violates this rule, as new species are added to canon commonly. 5. User accounts are to be for one active PC at a time. Create different user accounts for additional characters. 6. Last, but certainly not least, SPELLING AND PUNCTUATION MATTER. Remember, your sheet is for everyone else to reference, make sure it looks good! You don't have to use our format, but all fields on our blank example sheet MUST be on your sheet. -------------------------------------------- ----- 2. The Sheet ----- -------------------------------------------- ____'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity Real Name: x A.K.A: x Homeworld: x Species: x Physical Description Age: x Height: x Weight: x Hair: x Eyes: x Sex: x Equipment Clothing or Armor: x Weapon: x Common Inventory: x Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: x Alignment: x Current Faction Affiliation: x Current Faction Rank: x History Force Side: x Trained by: x Trained who: x Known Skills: x Background: x Ship Registration Name: x Class: x Model: x Manufacturer: x Length: x Armaments: x Armor: x Anti-Personnel Defenses: x Modifications: x Appearance: x ---------------------------------------------------------------- ----- 3. Blank-by-blank Walkthrough ----- ---------------------------------------------------------------- ____'S CHARACTER SHEET Identity (Basic Info) Real Name: Your character's Full name A.K.A: Any aliases you might have, including nicknames, fake ID's, etc (optional) Homeworld: What Planet your character was born on (optional, but clarify "unknown" if that is the case) Species: The Star Wars Universe contains innumerable species to explore. If you're using one that may be a little obscure, a link is appreciated by the mods, but not mandatory. If you are not playing a distinctly canon species, you should describe in detail how you wish to present this species. Some species possess game breaking traits and the mods reserve the right to disallow them. Special cases regardless of good intentions are frowned upon. Physical Description (You should include all information somebody may be able to discern from a glance. Some species have no hair, some are covered head to toe in it. This form doesn't have to be static. Feel free to edit the blanks to better suit your selected species, and provide extra detail where it isn't easily assumed.) Age: Height: Weight: Hair: Eyes: Sex: Equipment (Things you use on the battlefield are the ones that mods needs to know the most about. Descriptions are never penalized for brevity, so long as the information is accurate.) Clothing or Armor: What your character wears most often. Weapon: The weapons you carry on you. Common Inventory: Items the character carries most of the time. Most characters like to have a comm, for example. Faction Information (This section will describe where your loyalties lie, and how high you rank) Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force capable beings with no training and new characters fall into the Force Sensitive category Alignment: Is the character Good or Evil? Lawful or Chaotic? Perhaps neutral? (optional) Current Faction Affiliation: New Characters should place the faction they would like to Join in this box. Current Faction Rank: New Characters should place "Hopeful" in this box History (Some of the following categories may not apply to you at all. All are optional, but sometimes appreciated. Detail all the following at your leisure. This is also a good place to add any categories you feel are important info about your character.) Force Side: Light or Dark Trained by: Mostly applies to Force Users, but is available and Encouraged for Non-Force using talents you may have been tutored in. Trained who: Ditto^ Known Skills: Anything you would like to make known about your character to help keep other players informed about what you could do for them. Examples might include the ability to build ships, weapons, armor, slice computers, heal wounds, hunt bounties, etc. Listing Force powers, even as their own section, significantly helps the mods get a feel for an FU character's training and focus. This also applies to NFUs and their skill sets. Background: Stay consistent with the feel of Star Wars, and remember that backgrounds build foundations for characters to do interesting things, rather than backgrounds making characters interesting. Ship Registration (Ships are useful. Most threads are a planet unto themselves, so you'll need one if you want to go very far. Public transit is available on many worlds in the Star Wars Universe, but won't get you everywhere. ) Name: Your ship's name Class: Is it a Fighter, Freighter, Shuttle, Yacht, Cruiser, Infiltrator, Interceptor, Bomber, Tanker, Transport, or something else? Use this to indicate what your ship was designed to do best. Model: The series of ship it is. Manufacturer: Where was it made. Length: How big is it? Armaments: What weapons your ship has. Armor: All ships have a certain amount of armor to withstand the rigors of space travel. Improved armor can be used to make a ship more resilient to specific hazards. Anti-Personnel Defenses: What's to stop somebody from stealing your ship? Modifications: If your ship is canon, and not custom made, you should indicate deviations from the standard design. Also, modifications you've made since its initial creation should be noted in this section. Appearance: What's does it look like? Any Identifying marks? What color is it? Do you have a picture (optional)? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----- 4. Completing your Application to the RP ----- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you fail to complete this step, you will not be able to post in the RP! Once you have completed your character sheet PM a Moderator (or DM them via Discord) to review your character sheet. You may also want to post in one of the "I want to be a..." threads, to help notify the players in that faction that you exist. A moderator will then review your sheet, and if all is in order, you'll be accepted. If this is your first character, an Admin will need to add you to the proper usergroup, but this is a one-time thing if you choose to link future accounts for ease of posting. After you're accepted DON'T ABANDON YOUR SHEET! This is not just your ticket into the RP, this is your character's profile. Keeping it updated with current information will help other players interact with you more appropriately. Mods also regularly look at this when something about your character comes into question, so detail and accuracy will help them make a more informed decision. If something major happens, update the sheet! (Original post by Kakuto Ryu in '09, heavy edits made by handofthrawn and Ary the Grey since)
  7. I listened quietly. Some of what he had said, I had gathered from his Force-aura. But he also didn't say some of the other things I was sensing. It didn't matter; the fact was I was proud of the Jedi he was becoming. "There is no death, there is the Force," I said softly. "Now you understand." Silence fell so that all that could be heard was the crackling of the fire, the call of the night birds, and the murmur of conversation rising from the camp behind us. I searched the Force for confirmation of my own thoughts, and found a steady comfort and peace. "You have passed the first test, Mjan: the trial of flesh. Remember the lessons it taught you." My voice turned a little wistful. "You'll be a full Jedi soon."
  8. The Phoenix Named Academia In a class today we discussed the current college scandal surrounding the ACT and several prominent actors bribing their kids through programs to get college degrees and how all of that relates to brand and authorhood vis-a-vis Derrida. It's okay, take a breath, I ran out of air writing that as I'm sure you all ran out reading it. One of the main thoughts I had for that discussion that I didn't really bring up was how it is a large indicator of a coming implosion of the collegiate system. As I relate things best when I frame them from my personal narrative, I'll start there. Firstly, I don't value my degree. I see college as mostly a scam, evidenced by tuition rates inflating far above the actual currency inflation rate. I could go into depth on what the economical implications are from all this, but we can skip that if you accept a simple premise: colleges are greedy and fleece their students for all they're worth, whether that be through federally backed student loans or hundreds of absurd fees inside and outside of tuition costs that all go to services you might not even see in your tenure at the University. I had to sit through so many classes that taught me next to nothing or were simply a reading list I wouldn't have otherwise bothered with with a bunch of empty discussions (not this class) or were designed for first year college students and catered poorly to nontraditional students like myself. On top of this the students get to deal with curriculum pushed on the University by lobbyists pushing sub-par material that look great on paper but sometimes function inadequately in the classroom. All of this costs me time and money, teaches me little of value, and serves to delay my ability to make money in the long run. So, I don't value my degree. What I do value is the majority of potential employers who do value that degree for one reason or another, and are willing to pay me [more] as a result. That gives the degree value whether or not its actual tangible value is heavily watered down or not. It is thus worth examining why they value that degree. Many arguments can be made here as to why. It could be more a residual sociological function in that it once held great value so there is an assumption that even watered down it still holds significant value. It could be that many employers cling to the conception that college is still like when they attended: relatively cheaper and far more valuable. It could also be more of a pyramid scheme psychological effect, that because the last generation had to go through college, to keep their own degree valuable employers need to screen for one to thus maintain their own value. Whatever the reasoning (and there are many), the phenomenon persists, and because there is no regulation on rising tuition costs colleges are free to continue exploiting the system. Here's where we get to legitimation and authorhood. What happens when degrees become so watered down that anyone can get one if they have the money (or are willing to take on the debt) to get one, regardless of if they learn something or not? What does that say about academia at large if they are willing to allow this erosion of their own institutions? Of course the counterargument here is that these people were caught and will be punished, but will it really come off as punishment for those who have the power and wealth to shrug it off? As I pointed out in class as well, cases like these are also the very tip of the iceberg. Guaranteed there are thousands if not tens of thousands of "students" pouring through colleges every year, getting "paper degrees," that is, degrees that only hold value in the paper they are printed on. These degrees serve no other purpose than to secure a cushy job in some business the family has pull in, and the dynasty cycle continues. Eventually, this erosion will cause the system to collapse in on itself, and the institution of college as we know it will cease to be. It will either undergo vast reformation over a long period of years (more likely), or given a sifficient catalyzing event will collapse completely as the public loses trust in Universities and the degrees they offer. They will have delegitimized themselves, and their brand, their authorhood will become worthless. The real question then becomes how will we quantify knowledge and academic achievement? Who will measure what it means to be smart or an expert? I don't expect an answer to those questions, but if one pays attention to them and gets a proper feel for which way the wind shifts when it happens, they will likely stand to make a great deal of money. If there is so much money to be made from students, which is literally the money gateway helping to legitimize degrees, then guaranteed money will be involved in the new legitimation schema, whatever that schema winds up being.
  9. Aidan's head cocked as he heard the reply. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it... Still, he acknowledged, and his pilot began a controlled descent. What he was met with was mostly chaos. Ships were departing without air clearance, there were telltale signs of smoke from several locations in the city already. Panic had set in, and with it rioters and looters. The hyenas who capitalized on discord to benefit themselves. Dishonorable scum. If Aidan had any say here, he would easily have left some to the coming wolves, but he knew the Jedi would try to save them all. Besides, he wasn't nearly experienced enough to play at judge, jury, and executioner. In what used to be the Empire, he would have been the law, but he dreaded the thought of making a misstep and condemning the innocent. And then Aidan felt his master. Impossible yet unmistakable. He'd watched her die; witnessed her become one with the Force. How was this possible? Her presence shone like a beacon from the very orphanage they were headed to, so Aidan knew he would soon have his answers. Moments later, the pilot had the shuttle in hover near the roof, allowing Aidan to drop off before lifting off to maintain a low orbit out of the way of most of the space traffic. Should they need him he would be close enough to hastily exfiltrate, but for now he'd only be in the way as the shuttle wasn't large enough to ferry a significant number of people to the larger capital ships. Several personnel were already inside coordinating the evacuation, giving Aidan the time he needed to track down Kyrie. As he neared, he unslung her lightsaber from his makeshift bandolier, gripping it tightly. It seemed to be drawn to her as well, confirming his suspicions. Finally, he rounded a door, catching sight of a young woman who resembled Kyrie slightly, but was definitely younger, looking to be still in her teens. He tensed, unsure what to do with this knowledge, his thumb hovering over the activation stud. If this were some trick of the dark side, an impostor, she would be short lived. "...Master?"
  10. The Darkness was a place of embrace, a void in which all were equal. Yet for those of my kind, it was the only life we knew. We could pretend to walk within the light among the others, feel the warmth of it upon our skin. But we always remained forever in our eternal darkness, unable to see what we felt, tasted, touched, or smelt. And that darkness is what we called home, for in that darkness, we could truly see. I held no need for a HUD within my helm, or sensors to alert me. No. I could see in ways very few could ever dream to envision, and very few things escaped my sight. This was why I was considered Dar'Manda, a soulless being incapable of redemption because i saw through what many of my ilk feared or disdained for thousands of millennia. I was touched by the Force. But this was also a gift, whether by the hand of Kad Ha'rangir or by fate, and I had long made my peace with it. After all, I once held the title that Terra now held. And now, I held promise of an afterlife by that very defining gift, the last of my Clan, a Dar'Manda with a soul. Unsheathing my blade, I knew what laid ahead. Whether the Imperials needed my help or not, I stepped forward from the shadows that had bound me, a hunter of the void, a beast of the darkness, and my blades stood ready to not defend them, but join them in what they faced upon the ground. I was a Master of War, born and bred for that singular purpose, and in the here and now, it called to the soul that resonated within me like the drums of war signaling the beating of death. Beneath the moonlight that glimmered across the twin blades, I charged forth with a roar that echoed with the power that flowed through me since the day I was born. And as the first of many stood against me fell, the mixture of hydrolic fluid and oil spraying across my armored form, I signalled my aid to those I stood amidst. It was their choice to define me as friend or foe, only I wouldn't wait for their approval as I charged toward the next that stood to take the place of the first, each falling to my blades as the tempered beskar carved their metallic forms up like filets and sliced into their mimicking veins. They were but fodder to their Master, and as such, I would treat them as so, all the while repeating the same rythmatic phrase. "For Manda'lor! For Kad Ha'rangir! For Dar'Manda!"
  11. Imperials. Chimeric, dilated eyes narrowed. As the word slipped through her god-hazed mind, her painted lips were touched with a sardonic twist. Imperials, so consumed by efficiency and order. They did not embrace the chaos. They were godless in their efficacy, untouched by the entropy of the natural. They were unblessed by it. Dereliction holds the darkest spirits. The spirits of life. …Do they not know? Do they not wish to dance under the moon, where drums are roaring and water whispers? Terra’s body jerked rhythmically to the pounding heartbeat in her ears. Lix’s overwatch fed approaching Imperial troops into her HUD, but it went unnoticed. The unmatched eyes of Mandalore the Heartless were upon her prize. A great hulk of metal upon a throne of rust, surrounded by frightened children and old women. Honorless. The words were as corrupted as it birthed sound into her mind. Her darkmetal teeth ground together with irritation as she danced closer, her mouth filling with the burning touch of sparks. …You come to me, hungry for battle. You seek a dead god, who brî͒͒̃ͭngs death and revels in pain̛ͦ͋͒͒̄̐. Her mouth formed the words of her own breathless battlesong, the band of bronze on her helm catching the light of the warehouse and scattering the runic carvings about the shelving and walls. It was as though the blessings of the gods were marked in flame around her. …Oh yes, Mandalorian… The corrupted beast spoke of her people so calmly, as if he had fought her kind before. Countless Mandalorians had fought and died in the conflicts of this galaxy, but this KAIN had never matched against a Crusader. Never a true servant of the God of the hanged. Never a wolfspeaker. Her breathing became faster. Her skin thrummed with the heat of war. …I have heard of your conques͎͖̦̻̠̭t and so-called glory. We ma̡̝̯̗͇y serve the same master, but we are n̦͎̹̬ot allies. And yet, I offer thì̱̹̳͔͉̗s gift. If conflict is what͓̖͔͇̟̞̯ you desire, then conflict y͉̺͔̫̻̥ou shall have… Terra uttered no language. No word of response. Only a caustic, wordless, inhumane shriek cracked the air, causing the children and women to join in a chorus of horror. An entirely different voice crept from the small woman’s body, demonically cruel in its tone. “Honorless. Pitiful coward… Enthroned within the innocence of children.” A small beam of light came from her shoulder, zeroing on the creature’s chest. It was a laser designator which would broadcast targeting data to all units in the field, Mandalorian and Imperial alike. With the targeting information would come her bounty-hunting credentials, as well as a hiring fee for all troops in the field. They were not mercenaries, but the battle looked grim for either side. It would be best for her people to fight the droid threat together. The Imperials would need the unexpected ally in the fight to come. Terra laughed then, her voice still not her own. The laugh echoed across the warehouse. The battlerifle swept to a firing position as imperial breaching charges detonated. “Match yourself against my bersærkergang if you can, KAIN.”
  12. Lix Tetrax touched down with the grace of a bantha sliding down a sand dune, that was to say, the landing was swift, heavy, and shook the ground with the impact. And from its dark back, the Mandalorian Crusader Rose dropped down to land behind before the threshold of the facility. Her hand came up and began to move in silence, a code that her AI knew well. "Lix, give us overwatch." As you wish mistress, sensors indicate a possible imperial strikeforce heading this way, they are not banking to engage our forces. Her hands began to dance again in return, her shoulders also adjusting with each gesture to give emphasis. Then the dance of blasters will commence after the kill. Lix give us firing vectors should we need them, and hold the doorway if a firefight erupts. We are not firing first, not until their intentions are clear. The AI comes first, and if the imperial remnant wants to boogey later we will give them that pleasure. The AI inhabiting her metal angel gave its acknowledgement and the orange light of its optics looked back towards the sky as She bounded from her place to stand beside her Mandalore. This time speaking in soft rushed basic instead of communicating through the kinetic movements of the lorrdians. Though her hands did speak along as was often the case of those who spoke kinetic languages. “Imperials Mand’alor. Though hostile intent is not known.” She shouldered her T-21b with its viper attachment and her HUD picked up its reticle, superimposing it over the huddled masses within the facility. Movement. Sky and Air. Trap. Tin soldiers commanded by the Void. No Honour in fighting tin robots. Rose let the air hiss past her teeth in a low whistle. “Lix informs of multiple non imperial contacts. Droid. Controlled by the Void.” She used the term ‘Void’, which the soldiers of Mandalore’s army had used to refer to the unknown KAIN. “Switching to IR overview and dropping cover.” She dropped into a crouch and scanned the entrance to the structure from within, looking for the hulking shapes of whatever the void had brought them to parlay with her viper attachment letting loose two smoke grenades which filled the entrance with dark black smoke that hung in the listless air.
  13. The force moved around the bridge of the Ara-Lai with all the subtlety of a bothan hurricane. It manifested in the white flame that she had begun to associate with the path of the Exorcists. Those brave remnants of the Empire, now only a few dozen in number. It was an honour to be greeted so equally by one that was easily the rank of grand master in their order. Her surprised grin became even fuller as the voice of Darkfire echoed through the central communications hub. She instantly suppressed a blush and forced her heart to slow. This was not the time for childish crushes, but it was time to be the Jedi Knight she had trained to be. She looked back at the expectant comms officer and strode forward. “Imperial Knight Darkfire, thank you for your assistance, please join the CR-90 Ashla's Nocturne in its evacuation of the Northern wing of the Corennina Orphanage. That is the premature and intensive care ward. Sarna out.” Her voice was calm but friendly, it did her heart good to see more than just the Jedi out in force today. And if the Mandalorians came out in force ere the evacuation was done, she would be glad to have Darkfire and Eleison by her side.She closed her eyes and reached out to both of them in a friendly embrace, thanking them for their presence and pouring resolve through the force. The comm’s officer also tightbeamed the shuttle and the exorcist’s datapad the orders of evacuation and triage. As well as the location of the microjump staging point at the edge of the system where the larger transports were being loaded by the smaller jedi ships outside of the invasion corridor.
  14. The creature had an interesting reaction to his offered hand, no not creature for it was certainly a man. He appeared to be offering up his arm as an explanation for his name. 003. How strange, a slave one would assume yet obviously more if somehow affiliated with the sith. How strange, a simple glance at the man tells you he is malnurished and in no fit mind, yet he was here and had attracted the attention of a sith, a new sith, but still a sith. If he was a former slave the method for handling him could be as simple as issuing commands, however should he be some form of sith in disguise or some form of prospect now seemed an appropriate time to attempt to make an ally. Slowly reaching into his pack Drago produced a condensed protein bar he carried in his travlels. Unwrapping the package he offered it to the man known as 003. "It is an interesting pleasure to meet you 3, here you appear that you could use some food and then perhaps you can focus enough for us to talk." He stood offering the food and waited to see what the strange man would do.
  15. Ah, here came the Imperials. Misled, lost. An eventuality Kain had prepared for. As the Imperials began to take positions, legions of droid fighters exited the transitory mists near the Gallifrey system, swarming to intercept. Like a great necromancer of old, Kain gave a simple digital command, and buried battle droids of all make and model began to activate in a staggered fashion, rising from the nearby soil to engage the troops on the ground. Chaos was the goal here; disruption to establish a tactical foothold. These forces would hamper and harass, but in the end they would be scrap. All Kain needed, however, was an opportunity. A directed message beamed directly to Terra's comm unit, the closest Mandalorian commanding field unit, words for her alone to hear: "You come to me, hungry for battle. You seek a dead god, who brî͒͒̃ͭngs death and revels in pain̛ͦ͋͒͒̄̐. Oh yes, Mandalorian, I have heard of your conques͎͖̦̻̠̭t and so-called glory. We ma̡̝̯̗͇y serve the same master, but we are n̦͎̹̬ot allies. And yet, I offer thì̱̹̳͔͉̗s gift. If conflict is what͓̖͔͇̟̞̯ you desire, then conflict y͉̺͔̫̻̥ou shall have." And from his seat, Kain surveyed all before him through various feeds, his networked senses providing ample information to detect what he needed to. All there was left to do was wait. The trap was laid, the pieces in place.
  16. "First off, I must apologize..." Mjan stated as he took a seat across from her upon the most soil and crossed his legs, swatting his hands across each other as he shook loose the dirt that had clung to them. "If I made you worry, I did not meant to, and for that, I am sorry." Mjan stared at Aira attentively for a moment and chuckled, allowing the air around them to lighten up slightly. "The Force obviously held other plans for me." Mjan thought back to the beginning of his journey, the leisure hike through the kilometers of Jungle as he wandered for days in bliss, the sights, the sounds, the creatures he saw, and the way the Force swirled about effortlessly and connected with every single thing. It was an enlightening experience, and as he thought upon it, a moment a silence falling between them, a smile crept upon his face. "The first few weeks out there were amazing. I found myself truly connected to everything that I saw. The Force is truly fascinating, even when its left alone in nature, its will one of the most beautiful acts I've ever witnessed." But now...." Mjan's tone grew slightly serious as he remembered back to his thoughts of his ilk and those that took up their heritage and namesake. "Now I understand the reasoning behind the Jedi and their stance against the darkness." Mjan sighed briefly, his next words a difficult thing to admit. "And why those of my kin seek to control it. The Force is powerful, connected with the very nature of life its self. And if one of the darkness can control it properly, it upsets the balance between the two, and destruction and chaos follows in its wake." Mjan sat quietly again for a moment, the admission of his understanding a difficult pill to swallow, especially with his own hopes of one day freeing his people from their millennia of sins against the balance between the Force and Nature. "The Force is nature, and nature is the Force. They are intertwined like vines encompassing a tree, and holding a symbiotic relationship where both benefit from one another, just as the same could be said of the Jedi Order and its connection to the lightside of the Force. Both seek to preserve the Balance between Nature and the Force." "When I lost my sight in my right eye out there, fear began to set in. I began to panic, to worry that I would die alone and never be found. And to be honest, I felt that my hopes and dreams would die along with me. And that scared me even worse." Mjan spoke, a jovial tone returning as he thought back to the underground lake and the darkness that engulfed his form as well as his heart. "But while I was lost, I stumbled upon ancient drawings and I found a semblance of comfort in them. That even if I did die, life would continue on without me and that eventually others like myself would come forward and that even on my death, my dreams would continue on without me." Tears began to stroll down his crimson face, those of his right eye soaked up by the leathered patch that covered his blind eye as he made this admission, and his soul emanated a sense of peace with the thought of his death and what would follow. "And when I thought that I would die for sure, I remembered our previous conversation about the Jedi and how like blades of grass within a pond, how some withered away so others could live, I made my peace with that simple thought. That by my simple existence, I have paved ways that others, including my own species, could one day follow. Just as any Jedi does." A moment of pause came for the final time as Mjan realized his words as he spoke them, the young Tsis wiping the tears from his face and his bright smile shining through. "I am a Jedi and we are the Keepers of Balance. We stand as warriors so that others can follow their own hopes and dreams, and maybe our own intertwine with theirs. But at the same time, we stand apart, sacrificing our own so that the Force's true will continues upon it's own path without corruption or control. That is what it means to be a Jedi, and I am ready to give myself to it completely."
  17. As death and destruction ensued, I knew my place as harbinger. It was not my place to end their lives, but to place them upon the path to Kad Ha'rangir. If they survived, it was by his will and his will alone. Our place was simply as messengers, illuminating his word amidst holy flames. Placing my hand upon Hati's metallic form as her flames of crimson flew forth in bursts, I held no doubt in my duty, reassuring the ancient beast that we were but our Lord's guiding hands. And that was when I heard her voice echo through my helm. "Belay the orders?" I questioned in silence, Hati reacting to my thighs as i squeezed them against the saddle for her to stop. "Wasnt that what i was doing? Leaving the weak in our Lord's hands while fleshing out the strong? Her words made no sense, our beloved Manda'lor." "Ignore her words. Thin the herd Dar'Manda." I heard his voice speak as I felt his grasp through my protective pauldron. "Allow my flames to cleanse the souls of the weak so that they may join me in the afterlife and leave the strong to grow in their desire for revenge." "But what of Manda'lor's orders? Isn't she your holy messenger, your voice among our people?" I questioned, feeling an uneasy presence drop upon my conciousness as I questioned both intents. "You chose her as your leader. That is why you chose me to retrieve the Helm ot Mandalore the First for her." "Forget her for now. She is being influenced by outsiders, those whom wish to control my holy crusade as their own." The voice retorted, a raise in its tone echoing of rage and displeasure. "You are the one who I chose to be my hands. You are the one I chose to grant those of Arasuum salvation. You are my Dar'Manda, and you will obey." "But she is Manda'lore. She is your voice, your eyes, your mortal form upon the Galaxy. I cannot ignore your will." I responded, my mind clouded and torn by what was being said, what was being told. "I cannot and will not disobey my Manda'lor, even if what you say is true. She is your chosen messiah." "Enough!" The voice shouted, the echo of enraged spit flying through its lips as it spoke, my own anger beginning to boil as the confusing began to tear at me, causing me to wonder if it was even Kad Ha'rangir that I had been following all along. "You will do as commanded Dar'Manda!" As I settled Hati just east of the village, nestling the beast among a grouping of trees, I dismounted her and told her to wait as I gazed off into the flaming distance, Terra's words echoing in my mind as well as those of the voice that I myself had been hearing and believing for so long. Who was I to truly trust? I was Dar'Manda, soulless, and only through this holy crusade could I find my place in the afterlife. But to be Mandalorian, to know the tenants, was to follow Manda'lor without question. I had trusted this voice to be Kad Ha'rangir, and it had proven its self to be true until now, as I doubted Kad Ha'rangir would forsake his chosen one. Shaking the doubt from my mind, I knew of only one way to get to the bottom of this. If this being was truly was Kad Ha'rangir and what he said was true, then she would become as I, and he would claim her life through battle. But if he wasn't, she would survive and I would know my answer. Unsheathing my blades and disappearing into the darkened forest, I spoke but a lingering line as I went to join the others. "Dar'Manda or not, i will not disobey my Manda'lore or her wishes. If you have a problem with this, then claim my soul."
  18. The next few days continued in the same pattern as the last ones had, but they felt different somehow. More meaningful, in a way I didn't understand. Perhaps I was simply putting myself in Mjan's shoes, but I sensed a change in the atmosphere. Towards the end of the third day after his return, I had just gone to my tent to settle in for the night, bone-weary from the day's labors, but content, when I sensed Mjan approaching. I turned as he pushed open the tent flap, and didn't hesitate when he asked to talk. Instead, I motioned for him to follow me, and we moved out of the tent circle to an abandoned fire ring. Maintaining my silence, I quickly built a small fire. Once the wood was crackling away, and the sun had begun to set in earnest, I took a seat on the ground. "Tell me," I invited.
  19. Mythos grimaced beneath the duraplate mask he adorned as the Traffic Officer's voice teased, the aging Shistavanen chuckling beneath it as he grabbed the comm unit and gave a simple yet snide rebuttal. "Son, first time I walked the corridors of a MC90, you were likely still suckling your mother's teat." He chuckled once more through his cuspids before hanging it up and turning Von Howlster's Reach toward the Steadfast. As his gaze fell upon the war torn vessel, his suspicions were confirmed. It held the many scars of its age and stories, most notable the burns of the Mandalorian mounts, and his eyes only burnt with more fuel within the fire. Landing in Hangar Three, Mythos disembarked, placing his shield and folder upon his duster as he made his way to the bridge. When he arrived, Mythos removed his mask as he looked on in a mixture of sorrow and rage. He placed a clawed hand upon one of its framing beams, closing his eyes briefly as if apologizing to the older ship for its defeat, before turning toward the magcon and Admiral Slaughter. As the towering beast made his approach, his face revealing a singular across his snout and one large one across his throat, he gave a formal but fumbling salute as the Admiral spoke. "Admiral Slaughter you say?" The Shistavanen jested briefly, his voice gnarled and congested as he sat his mask aside. "Fitting." His face turned to a serious note as he stood there, his breathing deep for such a large form, the Shistavanen standing over two meters tall, and his rage was self evident even as his reached a paw up and wiped the drool from his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket. "These Mandalorians... They come to the heart of a Galaxy I swore to protect, playing conquerors of a planet struck yet again by the hands of powerful Sith, and think they can get away with it under the guise of a holy crusade?" Mythos' tongue licks his chops briefly. "You'd be damned right that I would come out of retirement for that. This was my beat, my turf, and they've declared war upon it. Retribution is but nigh.
  20. Amidst the sensor blocking Transitory Mists, an astral predator stalked the void with violent intent. The Erdgeist disgorged a small surgical strike force, sixty stormtroopers aboard TIE Reapers, with six AT-PTs and a squadron of TIE strikers for support. Hapes would no doubt bristle at the intrusion into their airspace. Or maybe not... Intel said reports were coming in of Crusader raiding parties hitting isolated population centers, and the locals were starting to deep scan other anomalies on their sensors. Command thought it might be a distraction, or maybe the Crusaders were finding out that zeal was no substitute for disciplined execution of a plan. The holovids always portrayed over enthusiasm and independent thought on the battlefield as valuable traits, but more often than not they just got people killed and wrecked ops. Real soldiers knew that they were on the field to do a job, and that it was better to trust in the plan than try to out think common sense. Admittedly, it was something of a new mindset for Naitan, having only recently been reassigned to the Imperial Stormtrooper corps. He used to be a mudbelly for the Imperial army, a gearhead that maintained siege drones. Imperial Army philosophy was that victory was won by being the last ones standing on the hill, and the mudbellies believed that standing out was a sure ticket to hell. So they did their jobs, kept their heads down, tried not to be a hero, tried to be unworthy of Death's notice. It was all luck really, but the only way for the human mind to comprehend the utter indifference of a reaper riding down a trooper on an artillery shell was a litany of superstitions. Even the gods don't survive the trenches, but in their absence a hodge podge religion of circumstantial evidence and irrational tales that deluded people into thinking there was some way to shape your fate on the battlefield if you were clever enough. He left that world behind in what would probably become another gospel in the Holy Writ of ways to not die in the muck. When HVT-1 had begun his master plan, Naitan was in yet another mud hole with more time than work to occupy him, so he tried his hand at the code. Somehow, he cracked it before anyone else. The absurdity of it had his platoon in fits, all of the great minds of every power in the galaxy stumped, and it was a mudbelly that finally cracked it. The Empire saw an opportunity for a PR boost, put him on the next shuttle out for transfer to the stormtrooper corps. He was going to be a hero whose face they could plaster on recruiting posters. The people he spoke to, he didn't know if they were Sith, they wore masks of white faces with completely neutral expressions. but somehow felt more like spooks than whatever it was that Sith felt like. Despite that, they spoke plainly to Naitan about what they had wanted from him, and seemed possessed of a form of razor sharp honesty that cut quickly and efficiently to the point. It was refreshing, too often people that weren't soldiers got caught up on stupid crap, entangled themselves in stupidity. Word was starting to get around that the higher ups wanted to reorganize the stormtrooper corps, bring about a new vision for it, and the blank faced spooks seemingly confirmed that, saying that even without his breaking HVT-1s code he would have been a candidate for transfer and of considerable value for the organization's new direction. So here he was, clad in black armor surrounded by what might as well have been his in-laws after an unexpected wedding. He at least had a history of combat training and had seen actual fighting, but there was an unspoken distance in the air suggesting that command had told his squad to put his survival as a priority. Nobody liked babysitting on the battlefield. There was too much important stuff going on to keep one life breathing. Perspective needed to be spread out to keep an eye on everyone, focusing it on one person made everyone else vulnerable. Regardless of the facts, if anyone in Naitan's squad died today, it would be his fault. The light went red and the ramp dropped. His squad fanned out with well oiled precision while he did his best to keep his head down. There had been a lot of jokes told over his time in the trenches about the uselessness of stormtrooper armor, but Naitan couldn't deny that compared to his metal carapace armor and trench coat he felt liberatingly unburdened by the plastic like material. Looking at his scanner, he called out to his squad what he was reading. "Lots of bio readings inside, could be hostiles or hostages, energy readings largely suggest hostages, but there are some outliers that are unaccounted for." The sergeant responded after a moment of conferring with command, "Command says to secure hostages with stun blasts if they get in the way, but we can't let some moron in panic mode compromise our mission. We do the job, we go home, everything else is a secondary concern." The AT-PTs positioned themselves to suppress exits from the warehouse while the TIE strikers began flying CAP. The stormtroopers began the leapfrog process of penetrating the structure, silently hoping that there were no IEDs or other traps.
  21. …Do you think slaughter brings me honor? The needling pain of a god’s disapproval ran its way up her spine, clawing and scratching through her nervous system. Terra let out a retching gasp within the confines of her buy’ce as the pain shattered her will. She spasmed and gagged, her body-weight supported by HADES. The fires from Dar’Manda illuminated her own failures …Cassus Fett did me no honor in the genocide of the Cathar. The voice was calm but filled with condemnation. The conviction wormed its way into her soul, burrowing deep and shattering the illusions of what she had made. Her mouth felt as sour as her belly as she spoke “I have taken your proud people and turned them to nothing but thieves and raiders…” The pain dug further into her gut, and she felt as though she was being stabbed over and over again with each heartbeat. She ripped the buy’ce from her head and spewed soured blood onto the fertile ground. Terra looked at her reflection in the polished helm, illuminated by the fires made from the innocent dead. The bronze circlet caught the light of the flames and washed it across her chimeric eyes. …Make them mine. With one last shuddering heave across her body, the voice left her with its commandment. Terra closed her eyes, wracked with the afterglow of a god’s touch. The pain subsided, but the condemnation did not. Opening her comlink, her gravely voice filled the Mandalorian’s encrypted channels. Her fingers caressed the crystalline totem that hung from her neck. “Belay previous order.” She placed a silver-laced flower upon her tongue and began to hum her own battlesong, her body beginning to writhe to the animalistic beat as she advanced. Her lithe form, dressed in armor as it was, twitched and moved erratically in the flexibility of her Echani race. As her pupils dilated, she danced towards the yawning doors of the warehouse. Her heartbeat matched the roars she heard in the dark as she slipped her buy’ce back upon her head. She greeted the familiarity with a primal howl “We do not flee from fire or iron.” She checked the action on her battlerifle “We are the tasters of blood.” Her tongue flicked across her blood-painted lips as she approached the entrance “We are as mad as wolves and as strong as the Mythosaur” Her long hair hung down her back in a plait that whipped about as she danced “The slaughter of the weak brings no honor to Kad Ha’rangir.” Her flesh felt as though it was alight with holy fire. Her heart hammered in her ears in its primal beat. Her senses were filled with the gnawing anxiety of the deep forests. The eyes of the women and children, packed amongst the server-racks and technology, glittered on her HUD. “We will test ourselves upon the strong and leave the weak in his hands.” Terra opened her external comlink and let out a horrifying, beastly howl. She would restore the honor of her people but would not leave them to its weakness. To the women and children captured by Kain, an armored, howling, writhing beast was at the doors. If they stood against her, they would fall and be left to scavengers as dead flesh to reward entropy’s greed.
  22. Morning came without warning. Blazing heat following freezing cold, with the humidity from the shores not making things easier on Ash, who was used to temperature controlled buildings and luxuries like hair product. Live or die, he was certain this was Hell, or at least some extension of it. His adoptive parents used to talk about it quite a lot, taking him to religious services as a kid, but he mostly just relegated that kind of talk as fairy tales meant to scare him into doing his chores. Still, it worked. One of the things he'd been taught by his human guardians growing up was to never use his pheromones. He'd been lectured long and hard about how as a Zeltron he had certain gifts that were unfair to unleash upon the unwitting. Ash had a strong moral code, and wanted to make his way in life honestly. He'd been taught moral virtues well, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and hunger was a powerful motivator. So, at lunch, he allowed a bit of his pheromones out. He'd been practicing over the last few years anyways, working as a waiter it was appropriate to keep customers happy, but Ash never did it to get significant tips. That was unethical. The cook at the end of the line, if he could even be called a cook, was a raggedy man. Grey hair and wrinkles told the tale of weariness and hardship that the galaxy tended to offer to most, and he was no exception. But without knowing why, he looked at Ash with a smile when it was finally Ash's turn, and at short request, gave him a much larger portion of the hardbread than most others. He stuck it in a pouch he was carrying, of course, and handed it over without so much as a second thought. The people behind him who had seen said nothing, they were mostly smiling and enthralled by Ash's handsome features. He'd been told it was like being drunk, but in a bubbly and happy way. All Ash knew was that if others were happy, it meant he was happier, but to force these feelings on others without their explicit permission was wrong. At his cot, he stared at the pouch for a long time, thinking about what he'd done. What if it meant less for someone else, someone who needed it? But there would be more, the refugee aid personnel wouldn't let people starve, and the community was large enough here that they could make more food and water soon... Still, it weighed heavy on his mind, and for a long while he debated with himself whether or not he should take it back. His stomach eventually won out the argument, and without another thought he pulled out the bread and took a large bite. Precious crumbs dribbled down his lips, and the taste wasn't particularly amazing, but it was food, and instinctively he continued. A small sound behind him alerted him a few bites later, and he turned to see the man who had the cot next to him staring at him. ((Aurion)) Ash was nearly certain the tent was mostly empty, there were a few people at the far end resting from the midday heat, but he'd somehow missed a man napping right next to him. Slowly the scene dawned on Ash, and there was a long pause as Ash looked at his bread for a moment, before breaking off a sizable chunk and offering it to him. Not to silence him, though if Ash wanted he likely could have made him forget by distracting him with pheromones, but that would likely just cause more problems. That's how it always was, anyways, you cheat once and you wind up having to cheat again and again just to cover it up until it all crashes down on your head in a brutal tidal wave. It was better to just face the music in most cases. Here, though, Ash simply wondered if the man was hungry. It was the right thing to do.
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  24. Aurion


    The small settlement drew extremely weary with time and the erratic abuse of sand storms that hounded them at every sunfall. He could feel the tension bleed from every tent, and the mouths of the stragglers all around him. Countrymen, refugees, and travelers all blended upon these shores of Savareen, combing their experiences together in order to survive. Aurion was no more than a fly on the wall, wrapped mysteriously in the bleached raiment of a merchant, with no more than the clothes on his back to offer. He was a survivor, with ties to no one in particular amidst the rubble, but an affinity for helping them all. It had been his third night enduring the wild winds, and the harsh thrashing of small stones, in order to operate in the chaos of the nightly tempests. Reports of theft had spread like wildfire, fueling the strain on the ungainly community, but he insisted. Under the mask of pandemonium, Aurion made his way by taking from the rich and lending to the poor. There were men and women who possessed more than what was necessary to continue forward, and hissed at the mention of splitting their hoards. These were the individuals he preyed on, indiscriminate of their reasons. Rationings of food and water appeared to be divided without bias, but as a fly on the wall, Aurion watched an undercurrent of corrupted power begin to slowly surge in the administration. Desperation would reveal the wolves in sheepskin, it was only a matter of time. He suspected the refugee Ash knew nothing of his little excursions, even though proximity to his resting place essentially made them neighbors. For now, the comfort of his cot steadied him to sleep and worked to ease his subtle wounds.
  25. He went to mouth the words, while staggering to stand up once more from his embarrassing fall. The words did not come, and his mouth remained shut. In his head he heard the words Mister Snuffles play out in the voice of the woman creature, and then the words zero-zero-three clawed out in another voice, the voice of his previous master. Both were answers to that same question they had all wondered about him, but answers that were foreign to his mind and his tongue. Therefore, the failing husk of a man stood awkwardly, staring towards the man with blue skin and the blackest of hair. Drago was what they called him, for he had a name and a purpose, and now this man approached with a gesture he was vaguely familiar with. The hand extended in courtesy, or at least in fellowship, but he could not recollect what it meant for sure. "Master would have rations by now, could it be.." The auburn tinge in his eyes itched with slightly more enthusiasm at the thought of food, and he straightened out, confused by the offering. 003, or Mister Snuffles, reached out with an open palm and grasped the hand of the blue man. He turned the hand over to find it empty, which fueled the confusion inside of his mind. His name, it was his name again, if he knew what his name was, perhaps there would be a reward. 003 stepped backwards, releasing the empty hand of Drago, now palming his own forehead to try and stimulate his memory. These people gathered here must've wondered if he was a fool; thoughts of deprecation began to distract him now. He knew they drew judgment because of how he appeared, and the muck he carried with him in every direction he walked. He broke his concentration and took a subtle whiff of himself, now understanding the stench the woman creature spoke of, and the thought of running now became real. He fidgeted in his stance as the quiet grew increasingly more uncomfortable, And then it dawned on him. 003 smiled unusually, surprise was written all over his face. He pulled the long left sleeve of his white shirt up to his elbow, and then stuck his wrist out for Drago to see. He did it with more pride than he intended, unashamed of the raised flesh that was burned into him that read; 0 0 3. That was what they had named him.
  26. Started from the bottom, now we're here, am I right? When the site first started out, most of the community used AOL Instant Messenger (AIM). Yuck, right? Then for a while we came together on Facebook, but now with the site upgrade we've integrated a Discord server directly into the site! A lot more chatter happens there than you might think. Early prototypes of rules changes, faction strategizing, polls, and easy access to staff are just a few of the reasons you should jump in on the fun with the rest of us! Find it too difficult to navigate the widget? Below is a direct invite link that'll open it in your browser! https://discord.gg/bJU6axy Check it out today!
  27. This is just a placer post for the upcoming site rules, which will see a significant trim to what they were. For now, don't troll, don't curse excessively, and be friendly. The staff will only bring out the ban hammer for good reason, but believe me we aren't afraid to use it.
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