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  1. 1 point
    The cool desert night winds howled across the barren wastes of the Dune Sea. Little moved at night on Tatooine and nothing was moving here, on this cloudless night. Nothing out of the ordinary; at least for now. A shimmer of light flickered in the air, a wisp bouncing along invisible streams of air. It finally alighted atop the tallest dune in the area; flecks of sand slowly building it higher and higher. In an instant, where once was nothingness, a hissing sound erupted and as painted stroke by stroke a black clad figure formed out of the air. The wisp vanishing as the finishing touches of the being’s body formalized into physicality. Standing there in robes, black as the heart of The Maw itself, stood a man. His garb was Tusken in design. Hanging at his side, a shimmering blackened gaderffi. This weapon was not a rough hewn weapon made of scavenged bits of crashed starship. It was a weapon expertly forged of mysterious metal; a weapon made for a crusader. Through the shimmering blackened goggles, Rruror’rur’rr stared out at the cloudless starry sky. He did not know how long it had been or even what had transpired in the moments since his death. The voices of his ancestors, ever present comrades, were silent. Inhaling deeply, Rruror’rur’rr took in a breath of refreshing air; air that was his. Mingling with his confusion, love, and loss, the solitary Tusken felt a strange set of peace. ’You are mine. Your body belongs to me. Until your death, again.’ Rruror’rur’rr’s body tensed. The voice from his death. It was back. As much as he wanted to die; it seemed as though all of the fates had conspired against him. He had walked through hell, defied his customs, dishonored his traditions, and defiled his people. Still, he was cursed to not die, but to live. ’Your ancestors led you to me. Your life was a smattering of eking by, desiring but never grasping. Together, we will go into the stars. We will go further than any of our kind have. Together we will bring revenge on they that subjugated our peoples and destroy our world.I shall give to you all that you desire and more; all you must do is my bidding.’ the voice pounded in the Tusken’s head. Each word a drumbeat against his temples. Reaching up with his black cloth wrapped hands, Rruror’rur’rr grasped his head and fell to his knees, crumpling in pain. ’Good,’ the voice reverberated. ’Kneel in submission. I will guide you.’ Then, as suddenly as the painful voice was there, it was gone. The silence flooded Rruror’rur’rr’s mind as he slumped face first into the sand, his body drifting down the dune. The winds gently fluttering the loose edges of his blackened Tusken robes, slowly depositing sand against his body. Alive. Alive, but not free. The remainder of the night passed without incident. The following morning Rruror’rur’rr awoke as the twin suns cast their warm gaze upon him. Blackened robes were of little use in casting off the heat. Yet, this was the first that the Tusken warrior noticed them; as the suns beat down and warmed his back. Pushing himself up, the night’s accumulation of sand running down his back, Rruror’rur’rr stared down at his outstretched hands in disbelief. ’Had it all been a dream?’ Flexing his hands, Rruror’rur’rr already knew the answer to that. It could not have been. How else had he come to this place, clad as such? The only question was *what next?’ Sitting in the sands, the Tusken pondered that thought as he played the events leading up to his death and his rebirth over in his head. Images of his demonic mount, the Mandalorians, his ancestors, his decent into hell, and the otherworldly voices played through his mind. Two things stuck out to him. The first was Rose, the blue haired warrior was he had become enamored with shortly before his death. What had become of her? She had died; hadn’t she? If he asked himself, Rruror’rur’rr was not entirely sure of that. He had died too had he not? Yet here he was. Perhaps whatever desert spirit that has seen for to curse him back to this life had done the same for her… Secondly, the voice. It had spoken of revenge, of attaining the unattainable, of teaching out to the stars. Normally, Rruror’rur’rr would have discounted such notions as blasphemous adulterations of age of traditions; but given all that had happened, he couldn’t. Looking down again at his black garbed hands and arms he knew something had changed. Not knowing what else to do, and with the suns beating down on him in an ever growing onslaught of heat, the Tusken picked himself up and began to walk. The first thing to do was to figure out where he even was. The deserts of Tatooine were unforgiving at best. ————————————- Forwards. Onwards and upwards. They were the only directions the desert warrior could go. As he created his fourth dune something stood out from the endless waves of shifting sand: moisture vaporators; rows upon rows of them. Spattered amongst them a crew of six maybe seven hodge-podged metallic droids clinked and clanked as they tended to the accursed machines. Dropping into a crouch, Rruror’rur’rr after on instinct. Even if he could not hear the voices of his ancestors, he still felt their guiding hands ((the force)). Slinging forward, like a sand panther on the prowl, the Tusken made it to the first towering vaporator with ease. From there it was easy enough to bash in the hands of the first two droids with ease. A third noticed the decimation and quickly sounded the alarm, sending the remaining droids scurrying back towards the farm in the distance. Meeting little resistance, with gaderffi in hand, Rruror’rur’rr set off at a loping gait after the droids. Cutting down the slowest as he gained on them before a blaster shot rang out and the Tusken dove for cover behind another vaporator. The farmer apparently took offense to the black clad raider. Clutching his gaderffi, Rruror’rur’rr careful righted himself. Within minutes, he could hear the grumbling of the portly farmer as he strode forward, having contented himself on clearly scaring the Tusken away. *”…better not have broken my newly installed Turbo 3000 or else I’m gonna…”* That was all that Rruror’rur’rr heard before he brought the clubbed end of his shimmering black signature weapon down on the man’s head just as he came into sight. A sickly splatter sent bits of blood and brain into the air as the man’s body fell limp and porcine in the sand. Lowering his club, Rruror’rur’rr pondered. The voice had spoken of more; but what? Setting off towards the house, the warrior wondered what might await him inside. Answers, he hoped. Inside, Rruror’rur’rr found relatively simple living. Aside from the fact that the man clearly was a slob and lived alone, the thing that caught his attention the most was the nearly full wall sized display broadcasting one of the most loathsome, albeit intriguing, displays he had ever seen; two completely unclothed tendril headed aliens partaking in what he could only classify as blasphemous bodily acts with one another. A lesser Tusken would have immediately bashed the offending display to pieces. Rruror’rur’rr however hesitated. He had discovered that, while seemingly an abomination, even the darkly clad ancestor in his death has wielded some matter of technology to his benefit and still been welcomed home. Jabbing his fingers at the buttons whilst trying, and failing to not watch the vile display splayed across the wall, Rruror’rur’rr somehow managed, through force or luck, to activate some matter of menu. As the screen turned black a voice echoed from around the room: “Greetings. How may I assist you today?” ’it spoke?’ Rruror’rur’rr took a step back in surprise. It was like he was in the belly one of those fo droids. Pondering for a moment, the Tusken finally spoke, his voice a low mumbling growl. ”Where is Rose?” “Pardon me my liege, but there is no one by that name in the directory. Perhaps if you could provide me with some details I can scan publicly available census data and locate who it is you are looking for.” Rruror’rur’rr stared dumbly at the blank screen. “Rose is . . . ahhhh . . . A warrior. She . . . Blue hair. Offworlder. She died.” “That information is decidedly unhelpful.” the smooth metallic voice retorted. “Do you know how many warrior switch blue hair exist on Tatooine alone?” for a moment the computer whirred quietly with the Tusken staring stupidly at it pondering what to do next. A few minutes of silent whirring later the computer spoke again, ”This warrior woman you refer to, she would not be an affiliate of the Black Sun crime syndicate that settled planetside some time ago would she?” Without pausing to await a response, an image of Rose Cariadus flashed up in the wall sized screen surrounded by flashing symbols of encryption that obscured most of the information associated with the file. ”Because if so I believe this might be who you are looking for. Not much besides a name and a comm code though, I regret to say. I cannot even tell you if the code is still good. The files on Tatooine have not been kept up to date for quite a while.” Rruror’rur’rr grunted excitedly as a familiar image flashed on the screen. It was her! ”Is she, alive?” he asked hesitantly, not entirely sure he wanted the answer. What if it was no? What is she was gone, as well, forever? Before he could retract his question the computer responded. ”It appears she was reanimated and left the planet. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine. If you want, I could try the transmission code; although I assume it will only result in another Imperial cease and desist order. She does seem your type though.” ”Do it!” the Tusken snarled excitedly as he threw his hands up in the air. Quickly and quietly a transmission was sent out into the cosmos. The encryption on it was more than simple; but it kept honest broadcasters honest and without having any idea where to start, the broadcast across all usual channels was a long shot at best. Still, it had worked in the past judging by the stack of no contact orders in the bedroom.
  2. 1 point
    Primary Account: Commander Cody Discord: Chief2443 Real First Name: Cody Active Characters: none
  3. 1 point
    Duel Ruling on Raven vs Qaela: I can go into a deeper critique after work, but illness has already delayed progression long enough. Both writers focused tightly on realistic actions in the duel, and Force use was largely kept to supporting actions or with realistic buildup (It wouldn't have hurt to have a bit more build up on the Force Storm, but as a master it still felt within reason for the character given the smaller area). I believe that the deciding factor for me was Raven's decision to switch between light and dark mid duel. While I'm aware that Raven has had training in both sides of the Force, the transition felt too much like flipping a switch, rather than shifting between two opposing methods/mindsets of using the Force. Winner: Qaela
  4. 1 point
    How good is the Mandalorian, huh? It's brilliant, that's how good it is. I really enjoyed the first season and am looking forward to the next one. It was actually kind of nice to have to wait for a new episode each week (we got D+ about 4 weeks in) rather than binging it. It built up the anticipation a bit. I think they played Baby Yoda very well butneed to be careful not to overcook that asset in the next season.
  5. 1 point
    Welcome to one of the oldest continuous Star Wars Rp forum's! As far as your question, I don't think most alien species even humans consider themselves to have "races" as there is not a lot of division "intraspecielly" speaking. There are light and dark skin colored humans, and various colors of the spectrum within certain species. The closest to races are various clans on planets like the Mandalorians for example. Variations in physical appearance can happen, like a very short horned Zabrak, or a very short human... As far as what your permitted to play, check with the moderators if you aren't sure.
  6. 1 point
    Identity Real Name: Cullin Jakcob Zoroi A.K.A: Cull, Jak Homeworld: Coruscant Species: Human Physical Description Age: 17 Height: 5’7 Weight: 128lbs Hair: Wavy,Typically Slicked Back Eyes: Dark Blue Sex: Male Equipment Clothing or Armor: Grey, Long-sleeved Shirt. White Vest with Multiple Pockets. Utility Belt and an Old, Battered Watch. Dark Grey Pants and Combat Boots. Weapon: Bow Staff, Small Dagger around Ankle, and a DC-17 Hand Blaster Common Inventory: Comm Link Faction Information Force User, Force Sensitive or Non-Force User: Force Sensitive Alignment: Neutral, Leaning More Towards Good at this Time Current Faction Affiliation: The Rebel Alliance Current Faction Rank: Hopeful History Force Side: Light Trained by: N/A Trained who: N/A Known Skills: Pickpocketing, Trickery, Gunslinging, Unarmed Combat, Infiltrating Background: Cullin grew up by himself on Coruscant, as his parents had been killed by a criminal when he was seven. Scared and afraid, the young boy learned how to steal and beg for food and money at an early age as a means of survival. Cullin also learned how to fight. Even though he was young, as he aged he learned to throw a punch and put up a fight if someone tried to take the little earnings he had. He hated what he had to do, but his will to live was stronger than his hatred of thieves. When he was nine, a gang on the streets found him and took him in. The gang provided him shelter and food in exchange for him going out every day and stealing money and begging people for money. Because of his small stature and big, round eyes, this worked so well. If he didn’t collect enough credits at the end of the day, he didn’t eat. And that was that. But, it was a better situation than the one he’d been in before where he had no shelter. As he grew older, the group realized he wasn’t as useful of an asset now and took him aside and offered him a place in the gang where he’d go do other stuff for them and he’d have a salary, or they could kick him back out to where they found him. Reluctant to leave, the now-teenager accepted the offer but little did he know, the boy was in for a ride. As he rose up in the gang, he learned that they were doing dealings with the Black Sun. It seemed this small gang was apart of something larger. From that moment onward, he began plotting his escape, trying to save enough of his pay for a ticket off the planet. Then the fateful day came when a member of a rival gang infuriated the Boss and sent Cullin to ‘rough him up’, when in reality, he wanted the man silenced. Heading to a port where he knew the man would be, Cullin saw the perfect opportunity to escape. He didn’t want to stay on the bad side of the law for the rest of his life, he always hated it! The man’s ship was beside him, and it looked like he was going to be heading out soon, so he’d have to hurry. The boy had brought along a small tranquilizer gun that would make it easier to take the ship, and he ran over to the man sipping something from a flask and motioned to the ship. “Let me have this ship.” He demanded. Of course, the man denied him the ship and reached for a gun in his belt holster, but Cullin was faster and brought the tranq gun up and deposited a tranquilizer into the man’s neck. Checking the pockets of the man as he fell to the ground, Cullin grabbed a set of keys and hopped into the ship, powering it on and setting a course for Corellia, because that was the only other planet he’d been on, with his parents long ago. Ship Registration Name: Opportunity Class: Fighter Model: A-Wing Manufacturer: Length: 9.6m Armaments: Pivoting laser cannons on each wingtip, Armor: Matrix Armor Anti-Personnel Defenses: Small turret on underbelly Modifications: N/A Appearance: (Not my artwork)
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