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  #16  
Old 03-16-2019, 03:13 AM
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GeoAvanti GeoAvanti is offline
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GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti GeoAvanti
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Ya know. I haven't really paid much heed to 5E.

But STAR WARS!

In 5E.

Damn.

Hum.

Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum.
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  #17  
Old 03-16-2019, 04:21 AM
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Basic InformationName: Morrigan Kanelos
Species: Human
Origin/Homeworld: Orphan who grew up in Mos Eisley - adopted daughter of Moth Caralli, owner of the Mos Eisley Inn
Class: Engineer - Armstech
Alignment: Balanced Lawful
Background: Scientist
Personality Trait 1: I only speak in short incomplete and concise sentences as they are optimized for efficient communication
Personality Trait 2: I often get lost in my own thoughts and contemplation, becoming oblivious to my surroundings.
Bond: My research is also my best companion.
Ideal: Logic. Emotions must not cloud our sense of what is right and true, or our logical thinking. (Lawful)
Flaw: I work on my research to the point where I ignore my own bodily needs.



AppearanceThere are two striking features that leap out about Morrigan. The first is her piercing blue-green eyes. Eyes set on features that would otherwise be attractive.....were it not for the fact that she looks at you in the same kind of way that one would look at a small flying creature that they were about to dissect. Morrigan lacks warmth in her expression and her bearing, and this is something that becomes perfectly evident when she opens her mouth and speaks. Morrigan's voice is dispassionate and emotionless. She speaks with as few words as possible, and when she does it is with a clear and concise precision.

Precision -- it is this word that sums Morrigan's appearance up perfectly. Everything about her, to her flame-red hair to the clothes that she wears has a manufactured aura about it. Cold, pristine....perfect, yet the sort of perfection that one would attribute to a robot more than a human being.

And that is Morrigan. If one were to put a word on her appearance and aura, it would be thus ~~ manufactured. A woman who, irrespective of her humanity, is like she is more machine than human.


PersonalityMorrigan is committed to the perfection found in technological advancement. Her intellect borders on near genius and she is relentless in the twin pursuits of science and technology. Yet, hers is the sort of single-minded brilliance that brings with it a sacrifice, and in Morrigan’s case it has come at the cost of her humanity.

She is cold ~~ colder than ice, and with it is a dangerous hint of arrogance, the sort of arrogance that does not just believe she is better than everyone else.....she accepts it as a matter of fact.

Other people....how can they even expect to exist on the same plane of comprehension that she does? How can they ever expect to understand or see what she sees? How can anyone possibly see that what she does, the sacrifices that she makes, that it is all for a cause that is nothing less than the advancements of her species? That what she does....it is not just for the betterment of herself but for the betterment of humanity as a whole..... Her intellect exists on another plane, considering matters too weighty for the average person to think about.

Oh, and about the sacrifices..... What Morrigan does not explain or discuss are the demons that haunt her sleep at night. The things she has done in the pursuit of knowledge, the terrible terrible things that stain her soul and torment her with terrible nightmares. Perhaps these are the things that drive Morrigan to tail off mid-speech, as her mind goes back and revisits dark memories she would rather rid herself of. Perhaps it is these dark stains that truly cause Morrigan to encase her heart and emotions inside a block of ice.

But of course, these are things that she will never speak of.


BackstoryOne night, in the refuse strewn back alleyways outside the Mos Eisley Inn, on the titular planet of Mos Eisley, the proprietor of said inn, one Moth Caralli, a wealthy Mon Calamari, found an abandoned babe in swaddling cloth. On Mos Eisley, the armpit of the galaxy, where most of the inhabitants wore that particular distinction like a badge of honour, most would have been tempted to sell the human foundling into slavery — the price of a human child indeed attracting a large price.

Yet, for whatever reason, Moth Caralli did not. He raised the girl as if she was her own, and on that night the stars themselves seemed to deem that this girl — this foundling was perhaps destined for something greater than most stranded in the hellhole of Mos Eisley. Over the years, Moth watched the girl grow, and he watched keenly as she began to exhibit the sort of intellect that was beyond most people that he had met over the years. Young Morrigan was fascinated by two things — science and machinery. There was nary a day that went by that she could not be found tinkering with machines or experimenting in some way — be it dead animals or live ones. She was a strange child, strange in ways that both fascinated and disturbed Moth Caralli. She seemed more at home with machines than she was with other living beings, and indeed in a lot of ways hated being forced to spend times with anything other than her machines or her “pets”. She was ill suited to life as a serving maid in the Inn, something that Moth soon came to realise after a number of unpleasant incidents that caused the strange girl to retreat even deeper into herself.

Indeed Moth found himself often wondering who she truly was, almost as often as he feared the path she seemed to be walking. There was a coldness about her, a strangely emotionless detachment from reality. Moth began to wonder if there were dark places and things inside the girl, a darkness that she was capable of that she had not yet displayed. Her detachment from life and the way she experimented on her pets certainly indicated to him that she held little value or regard for living creatures.

Yet that darkness, whatever it was, was still locked deep inside of her.....for now at least.

When Moth approached Morrigan, requesting that she find a way to earn her keep, Morrigan turned to the best means that she knew how to do so. She offered her services as an technician, working for a wide variety of clients on a wide variety of tasks from fixing arms to armor to droids. She found herself very skilled in said repairs and earned both herself and Moth a not-insubstantial amount of money from the efforts. And things were good.....for a time.

There were many things that could be said about Morrigan and the way she was -- the way that she seemingly valued her own studies and robotics over her fellow humans. Yet, it was true to say that despite her actions, her intentions and motives were never for anything other than the good of her people and advancement of her species.
She would do things that others would find abhorrent. Those things, to her, were nothing out of the ordinary, they were just a means to an end. So it was that Morrigan found herself.....exhuming the bodies of the recently departed and using them as part of her experiments in both science and technology. She did not do so because she felt the pull of the dark side, she did it because her thought processes were not in the same place that someone else's would be and what other people would find sickening simply did not occur to her.

They were not being used and she was using them for a good cause -- and that was something she genuinely believed.

Over time Morrigan continued in the same manner, and noone ever really realised that it was her that was exhuming the recently dead and stealing their body parts.

But then, as weeks turned into months into years, something else happened. Morrigan fell in love with another girl by the name of Anjelica, and for a time in her contentment she became almost human in her mannerisms and dealings with others. Foregoing her experiments and enjoying these new sensations that she had never experienced before, Morrigan looked for a time like she would find true happiness.

She always remembered the night they had met.

She had raven black hair, and her emerald eyes flashed. Emerald eyes......dazzling emerald eyes. The first time Morrigan saw them she was entranced....

Her name was Anjelica, and Morrigan loved her the moment she saw her. She walked up to Morrigan, brazen as day, as the band played in the background of the dance floor. She held her hand out, and Morrigan accepted it as this strange, mysterious girl pulled her up to dance. The music did not exist.....the people around them did not exist.....

All there was that moment were two girls, dancing together, hands in each others. And as Morrigan's eyes met hers she knew.......

......lips met with each other, silk on silk and the world melted away.

The crowd became nothing but insubstantial ghosts in the blink of an eye. All there was now was that beautiful, beautiful evening where the two girls danced the night away. They danced under the stars that night, and if there were gods.....they watched them from high up in the sky.


The night when Anjelica was struck in the head in the bar-fight.....the night she sank into the coma was the beginning of the long spiral downwards for Morrigan. She sat, day after day, night after night, her hand in Anjelica's, wishing for the girl she loved to come back......come back home. But she did not. Her eyes flickered open once, meeting Morrigan's. Her hand tightened, holding Morrigan's, and she tried to speak......

Yet she could not. Her mind was gone.

Rather than seeing her, a sad empty shell of the person she once was, Morrigan euthanised Anjelica. That night, her heart broke, as did the last vestiges of warmth and compassion that she had. Not just her heart, her mind shattered into a thousand disparate shards -- a floating flotsam each containing a single shard of the person that she once was. This was not the end....it couldn't be the end. And then, it came to Morrigan. This -- this was something she could do something about. She had to do something about it. She couldn't just say goodbye to the only person she had ever truly loved. Out of desperation borne from the insane rather than the logical thought process of a rational person, Morrigan exhumed Anjelica's body. Gathering, stealing the parts she needed, she worked day into night into weeks into months. But in the end it was done -- a hellish conglomeration of robot and human. Yet there were things that Morrigan could not do. She could not bring life back to the dead, and for all her efforts, she had done nothing but desecrate Anjelica's body. Broken, Morrigan wept as she destroyed the monstrosity, and she fled.

She had no place on Mos Eisley anymore -- not even there, not after what she had done. They would kill her, or worse. And her broken sanity could not withstand the grief that was threatening to consume her.

Morrigan fled, Mos Eisley, offering her services as a technican and engineer on any ship that would hire her. She went from port to port, ship to ship, never staying in the same location for long, always earning enough to make a comfortable living off. She had long since restricted her work to weapon modifications -- it was safter that way. Lock inside everything that she once was and everything that she had done, lock it all deep down far far away where noone could ever find her. She had long since left behind anyone who would want to hunt her down for what she had done (or so she thought), yet there was one thing that she could never truly outrun, no matter how much she tried.

Her grief, and her regret over everything that had happened.

Over time, word began to spread about the young, brilliant technician. Word and rumours that spread to certain individuals who wondered at the truth behind the rumours. The Resistance very much wanted to meet Morrigan.


Contacts1) Moth Caralli - Bartender and Owner of the Mos Eisley Inn, it was Moth that took in Morrigan as a foundling when he had no real reason to do so. Despite his brusque manner and her not so easy upbringing, it could certainly be surmised that Moth always had a soft spot for the girl that would come to be like a daughter to him. There are many things that remain unresolved between them -- not least of which being the way that Morrigan simply left one night without a word. Moth has always wondered what happened to her, and it is not possible to surmise what will happen if there is a reunion between the two of them.

2) Galvin Maru - Pilot of the Andrassian -- Morrigan's first ship. Galvin had always been impressed by Morrigan's brilliance, not to say her coolness in the line of danger (although it must be said that he does not know of the true reasons behind her coolness). Simply put, Galvin admired her for her single-minded determination and tried everything that he could possibly think of to get her to stay on the ship when it came time for her to depart. Yet, Morrigan would not be swayed, she could not allow herself to stay in the same place for long, running from demons that she could not possibly tell another about.

3) Qef Colsan - a bounty hunter hired by Anjelica's family to track down and return Morrigan to Mos Eisley for justice. Qef and Morrigan have never met, and indeed Morrigan does not even have any indication of his existence. However Qef has followed her with the same single-minded determination that she possesses, and little does she realise that he knows more about her than anyone save herself. Qef is inexorable in his pursuit -- he will not give up until she is in his grasp.


RP Sample"How much am I looking at?"

The man spoke with a casual, almost pronounced drawl as he placed the butt of his shooter into the ground and casually leaned on it, almost as if he was making a fairly unsubtle point. The flame-haired girl though was having none of it, even if, on the off chance, she had noticed the man's demeanour.

"Two thousand credi...." she said without even looking up from the long wooden trestle table over which she was hunched. Her words trailed off into the air as she gazed down at the assortment of broken mechanical parts that were haphazardly scattered over the wooden surface.

Morrigan Kanelos didn't really have anything that she would ever refer to as a permanent place of residence. What she had were temporary dilapidated crawlspaces that didn't really function as anything other than a place for her to throw the assorted pieces of junk that she happened to be working on at any one time. Yet, for someone like Morrigan, she didn't really function like other people did, and her needs were very different than most others. Right now the stone floor on which she and her would-be customer stood was strewn with mechanical parts, tools, broken fuses and a vast assortment of strange thingimajigs that in all likelihood noone had a clue, or would have a clue about other than Morrigan herself.

"How much?" the man's voice was almost apoplectic with unbridled rage at the amount in which he was being charged.

Morrigan, for her part, still didn't notice the tone of the man's voice. To be honest, she barely registered the fact that someone was even standing there.

The strange woman spoke again as she darted around from place to place, picking up some of the parts on the floor and placing them in a confused and random pile of parts on the trestle table -- her sentence a strange and unfinished collection of unrelated words.

"FixIdroidnotcheapforlabour."

The man shook his head, not really understanding what it was that she was talking about. Picking up a small cylindrical object from the table, Morrigan looked at it, her features screwing up in confusion.

"Hmmmm," she muttered as she shook the cylinder. From inside it there was the sound of something rattling about. "Ah-hah," she said triumphantly as she screwed open the top of the cylinder.

Shaking, it something fell out onto the table. It looked like a small screw.

"HOW MUCH!?" the man said again, yelling now in consternation.

"Here," Morrigan said as she tossed the screw over the table towards him. His eyes bulging in surprise and disbelief, the man nevertheless instinctively cupped his hands, catching the screw as it landed. "Place screw on back of droid's......" her voice trailed off as she she muttered, "Hmmmmm, place neural adaptor into hilt and connect to core....."

As the man scratched his head in confusion Morrigan's train of thought came back to what she had began to say to him. "Back of head. Screw it in. Do your ears work as you....."

She glanced across to what appeared to be an unfinished droid on the other side of the room. It was a strange collection of nuts and bolts and wires that were trailing all over the place.

"I will be with you shortly Angie, just after I finish with my cus......whoreallydoesn'thaveaclueaboutthetimeoref fortittakestodothesethingsorthelevelofintellectinv olvedbutthenwhatelsewouldIexpectfromanunculturedth ug."

Holding his head in his hands, the man sighed. It just.....it just wasn't worth it.

"Two thousand credits it is then,"

Without another word he reached into his pack and withdrew the chips. Pushing them across the table at her he scowled again as he turned and left the room.

Morrigan for her part looked down at the money and sighed happily, glancing back over to the droid she had referred to as Angie.

"Another satisfied customer Angie, and how could he not be. I mean, just absolutely everyone knows that there's noone better at this than.......oh, would you look at that?"

Reaching out with a trembling hand, Morrigan picked up something that was flashing on the table in front of her.

Last edited by Tarus; 03-19-2019 at 03:45 PM.
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  #18  
Old 03-16-2019, 08:40 AM
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@Xian: I would suggest Operative - Saboteur, that seems like what you're going for unless that little droid you talk about is his handiwork and you would like to see it in action during the campaign but Engineer - Astrotech doesn't seem like it has the right feel you're going for with a Slicer.

@For anyone whom it concerns: I have given some thought to a 'Gunslinger' system involving Initiative between two people if anyone would want to be some Quickdraw smuggler or somesuch.
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  #19  
Old 03-16-2019, 09:21 AM
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I'm at work just now so will fill in the blanks tonight but just wanted to get my name in.

Kola Frelan
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Name: Kola Frelan
Species: Human
Origin/Homeworld: Mos Taike settlement on Tatooine
Class: Operative, Gunslinger
Alignment: Chaotic Good
Background: Scoundrel
Personality traits: I pocket anything I see that might have some value

Bond: A powerful person killed someone I love. Someday soon, I will have my revenge

Ideal: Independence

Flaw: I can't resist a pretty face

Appearance: Attached picture is how I imagine him

Personality: Usually laid back and stoic but when backed into a corner will shoot his way out.

Contacts:
Rival: Dago a Rodian, the murderer of my wife and unborn child, my former owner.
Contact: Kellar Zade, a human like me, contacts me from time to time with work, usually pays good too.
Mentor: Mas Reen, A Duros, took me under his wing, taught me how to survive, shoot and pilot a ship.

Backstory: I was born on Tatooine and raised a slave not that they called it that, it was called something like indentured servant to get around the new laws banning slavery anyway that was my life serving the fat elite of Tatooine until I earned enough selling scrap and competing in the races to buy my freedom. I was 19 when I finally earned enough to buy my way out, by now I was married to a beautiful human woman called Zeal, we were madly in love and wanted to start a family but we couldn't while we were owned by Dago, I went to him and bet everything I had to free us both in one last pod race, he agreed and I succeeded, we were finally free but I should have known it wasn't that easy. See it turns out Zeal was pregnant and Dago knew about it and as far as he was concerned the child was conceived when we were his property so the child belonged to him, I saw red and lost my cool, I flung myself at Dago and his guards disarming one and killing the other, I turned around to finally settle things with Dago only to see my wife bleeding out on the floor and Dago making his escape, he killed my wife to escape and one day I will find him and kill him.

Last edited by Laz; 03-16-2019 at 01:43 PM.
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  #20  
Old 03-16-2019, 12:07 PM
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Work in progress

Application
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Name: Csapla'vera'tooura, better known by her core name Avera.
Species: Chiss
Origin/Homeworld: Born and raised on Sharb, a planet on the edge of the Chiss Ascendency in the Unknown Regions.
Class: Scholar, Politician pursuit.
Alignment: Lawful Balanced

Background: Noble
Personality traits: Despite my noble birth, I do not place myself above other folk. We all have the same blood.; If you do me an injury, I will crush you, ruin your name, and salt your fields.
Bond: My loyalty to my sovereign is unwavering.
Ideal: Family: Blood runs thicker than water.
Flaw: I have an insatiable desire for carnal pleasures.

Appearance: Avera is a rather beautiful Chiss female, boasting a bit more "curve" than the typical athletic figure seen on her military comrades. Her hair, when let down, comes to just above the middle of her back, and her skin is a flawless cobalt blue. She always keeps up with the latest fashions and styles, understanding full well that appearances are the weapons of her trade. While she does tend towards what many would consider a more "traditional" method of dress (usually a long dress showing only a small amount of skin), she does boast a rather elaborate and exotic tattoo on her right shoulder, the result of a drunken night of negotiations with a particular Mandalorian clan.

Personality: For the majority of her life, Avera was a stanch traditionalist and devotee to the ways of the Chiss Ascendancy. Her devotions were always towards her people and her family, in that order, and most of her major life choices were made towards supporting those two, though she did develop a few "less than exemplary" habits as a matter of stress relief when offworld. The major turning point in her life came with the Hosnian Cataclysm, when a burning need for vengeance against the First Order eclipsed began to eclipse her loyalties to her government.

Contacts:
Vala Krawlin: Leader of the small but deadly Clan Krawlin. The middle aged Mandalorian was once a nemesis of Avera and a threat to the entire Eastern edge of the Chiss Ascendancy, until Avera was able to find proof that Gerro the Hutt, who hired her clan to commit seemingly random terrorist acts, was planning on backstabbing them in the end, an affront to the fabled Mandalorian Code of Honor. Ever since, Vala has lended her aid whenever Avera needs something done that House Politics might delay.

Captain Mitth'ala'tooura, aka Halat: Avera's younger brother by birth. While Avera went into politics and became a member of House Csapla, Halat instead went the military route. Unlike his big sister, Halat is a bit of a maverick, which has lead to more than one roadblock in his carrer, not to mention more than one headache-inducing file come across Avera's desk.

Roa Von: Gifted slave turned secretary, the young blue Twi'lek female was given to Avera as a thank you gift from Mato the Hutt for her part in destroying his rival Gerro's plans. Having a strange knack for organization and scheduling, Roa stayed on as Avera's right hand after being given her freedom, providing some much needed grease to the grinding gears of bureaucracy that Avera dealt with on a daily basis.

Backstory: All the details, what led them to take up the life they have. This can be 3 paragraphs or more as long as it flows and doesn't have too much extra fluff to make it look bigger.
RP sample: Something new, Something fresh. I want you to get into this character and give me a feel for this character

Last edited by MaximumUnicorn; 03-23-2019 at 10:33 PM.
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  #21  
Old 03-16-2019, 12:30 PM
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I am seeing alot of good applications in the works and I'm very happy about the turnout!

Remember, Let me know in PM or in this thread when your application is complete so I can update the table and have all my ducks in a row.
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Old 03-16-2019, 12:36 PM
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Xian Xian is offline
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Arthilian01 View Post
I am seeing alot of good applications in the works and I'm very happy about the turnout!

Remember, Let me know in PM or in this thread when your application is complete so I can update the table and have all my ducks in a row.
Yeah, I think Operative seems to be a better fit for a slicer. Pending any additional refinements, Darius Cross is complete.

Onward!

Cheers, Xian
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Old 03-16-2019, 12:39 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by GeoAvanti View Post
Ya know. I haven't really paid much heed to 5E.

But STAR WARS!

In 5E.

Damn.

Hum.

Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum.
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  #24  
Old 03-16-2019, 12:52 PM
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@Xian: RP Sample and I'll consider that a complete application. Love it so far!
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Old 03-16-2019, 01:38 PM
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I think that's me finished I'm fairly new to play by post and tried to write his bio like the character was telling the story since I don't have another RP sample for you, is that ok?
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Old 03-16-2019, 02:14 PM
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Last edited by Arthilian01; 03-16-2019 at 05:27 PM.
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Old 03-17-2019, 12:43 AM
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With thanks to Xian, who I hope does not mind my borrowing his application layout!

Application
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Name: Rusa-Ka Nakaan, a traditional Jedi name given to him by his adoptive Jedi Order caretakers
Race/Species: Yoda's Species (GM Approved/Created Homebrew)
Age: 80 (biologically 20; carbon freezing related)
Home-world: As always seems to be the case, the homeworld of his species is a mystery, such that even Rusa-Ka has never spoken of it. He was brought to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to be raised and trained during the twilight of the Old Republic, and so it could be said Coruscant is his closest identifiable home planet.
Class: Guardian, Shii-Cho Path
Background: Jedi
Sheet: Here

Physical Description: Rusa-Ka's kind are oft underestimated as feeble due to their diminutive stature, and that has just as frequently been a fatal mistake. Nevertheless, he does fit the mold at just five foot eight and forty or so pounds. For such a short sentient, Nakaan is actually on the fit side, agile and lean more than muscular. Seldom does any member of his race in memory look young, but as they go, Rusa-Ka's features betray his youth. Too few wrinkles and far too much hair, his mane being a long length of black strands woven into a variety of differing braids, cinched then in turn at the nape of his neck with a length of cloth. His leaf green eyes, light in contrast to his darker green skin, are couched behind heavy lids. Occasionally, one might have a chance to note the lasting nick and mark upon him, scars of old injuries which didn't wholly mend.

As to attire, well, there's little to surprise the onlooker. Layers of wrapped robes which go from white, to tan, to a voluminous dark brown with a deep hood and draping sleeves. All of this is tailored to his size, of course, and all of it does well to conceal things he might wish less seen. For example, the base attire he wears is actually specially treated leather designed by the Jedi for combat in the varied environments of the Clone Wars, offering protection without sacrificing mobility. Tucked away among the many hoops in his sash, too, is what appears to be a metallic hilt lacking a blade - a recognizable thing to some.

Personality: Rusa-Ka Nakaan is a relic out of his own time, of this there can be no doubt. He was brought to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant for training as an infant some twenty years before Order 66 was put into motion. There, he learned at the pace of his people, perhaps rushing a bit less in the present with so many centuries still ahead. Nevertheless, Rusa-Ka did have his species' natural connection to the Force and learned well accordingly. He was proud when he was selected to be among those chosen as a Padawan, but not overly prideful, reining in his youth so as to appear appropriately disciplined. That tendency remains true today.

In due time, he was chosen by the celebrated Master Vulk-Sou, a Consular nevertheless prepared to train a young Padawan bound for the Guardian's path. It was from Vulk-Sou that Rusa-Ka learned to master patience, to read those around himself before leaping to judgments, and to temper his fighting prowess in the arena of diplomacy. Habits he would preserve, skills he would always find valuable in life without the Order many decades later.

Just as Rusa-Ka had embraced these things, the clones turned on the Jedi and both he and his master were on the run. After fighting so many battles during the war, he had to go into hiding, frozen in carbonite which preserved both him and the firebrand student of Jedi morals Vulk-Sou had so carefully sculpted. Perhaps it was coincidence that he grew so, or perhaps Vulk-Sou's insights into the future perceived the need to build a living ark for the old Order's ways.

[*] Personality Traits: An odd mix, those of the old Order said I was. A warrior, unlike many of my kind, yet keenly aware of others' minds and studied in many subjects. Is it not in a Jedi's nature to be diverse? Crave the opportunity to learn more, I do! Always do I seek new chances to learn, and perhaps to help the learned who enlighten me.
[*]Ideals: Pain will always be felt when inflicting death or harm, my master once said, and so there must be purpose. Is it purpose which tempers guilt, the logic behind it and the certitude that the harm we do is necessary. If there is no purpose to the pain, then one should not strike.
[*]Bond: The way of the old Jedi Order. The way of my upbringing, it is, though it may make me a relic. Always shall I strive to preserve the existence of the Jedi as they were, even in the face of dark oppressors, and particularly after having hidden through so much loss of the Light. Others shall one day listen to me and embrace what we once were, perhaps, hm? If the Force wills that I survive as long, that is, hmhmhm! Always did my teacher say that Grandmaster Yoda could never have been so young and reckless.
[*]Flaw: A time for contemplation, there is, yes. A time for patience, there is, yes. However, we must not forget the time to take action! Too often did I see Knights and Masters sit idle and await the "right" time. We have the ruins of our Order to show for it. Be so prepared to wait and invite tragedy, I will not. Haste, it is not, though some may claim it. Initiative, it is!

Backstory: None can say where Rusa-Ka was born, and that's quite literally stated; no member of his species has ever revealed the location or name of their homeworld. Most of their disciples during the days of the Old Republic were found while passing through known space, and a few were brought directly to the Order's temples. The latter was true of Rusa-Ka, an infant without even a name. It was felt that, if he was to be Jedi and of Republic culture, then this was the society which should shape him in all ways. Ever eager to accept students from such a Force Sentive race, the Jedi gave him a name from one of their more traditional schemes, dubbing him Rusa-Ka Nakaan.

Rusa-Ka grew up in the temple at the pace of his people, slowly. This is not to say that he lazed about and failed to learn, however. Indeed, with the fire of youth, Nakaan threw himself into his training with want to be out of the ranks of the students and exploring the galaxy. There were disputes to be settled, innocents to be protected, secrets to be unearthed. He wished to be a part of these deeds, and he wished by his lightsaber's blade to defend those accomplishing them alongside him. Many of Rusa-Ka's race had been great warriors; Yoda, Yaddle, Vandar, and so on. He admired them all, as most Jedi did, yet he embraced not the path of the Consular. No, his gift with the saber and the Force were equal, but he favored the lightsaber. The Guardian's way.

At long last, there came the day when the crop of students Rusa-Ka belonged to were to be chosen by Knights and Masters seeking Padawans. He was of wide interest, a curiosity for his energy to serve and unusual leanings in talents, but it was ultimately the esteemed Master Vulk-Sou who would choose him as a pupil. It was less than typical to see a Consular adopt a Padawan Learner bound for the Guardian's path, but Vulk-Sou had much to offer him. Lessons in the skills of patience, of reading those around him before coming to conclusions, of embracing knowledge in many more areas than the blade, and of waging some wars in the arena of diplomacy. These are lessons which would shape the occasionally impulsive Rusa-Ka, who was given to his kind's impulsive fire in youth, and serve him well in the dangerous future.

It seemed like the years flashed by training under Vulk-Sou, and then the days of peace were gone, replaced by their fighting on the battlefield during the Clone Wars. Nakaan was scarred both physically and mentally by the turmoil, though his master helped him much with the latter, assuring him that the guilt of inflicting death could be soothed by the tempering power of purpose. So long as the harm dealt was done with just purpose - as they believed it was in defending the Republic's independence - then the pain was but a fleeting reminder to always be certain of necessity in dealing out violence. So guided, Rusa-Ka Nakaan distinguished himself during the Clone Wars. Those were days when even Padawan Learners held positions of command, all the better to place them in the line of fire.

When betrayal came, it was in a hail of blaster fire pointed in the wrong direction. Master Vulk-Sou was with Rusa-Ka, thankfully, and quickly spirited his student away to their starfighters. They fled for months, hopeful for a Jedi counterattack, but the fatal wound to the old Order had already been dealt for the time being. Perhaps it would heal in the future, and then, those who remembered the past would be needed. It was for that reason that Vulk-Sou took his student to a secret Jedi facility where artifacts were often frozen in carbonite. In this case, Rusa-Ka was to be the artifact, an ark to carry knowledge of the old Order into the future. The system was programmed to awaken him decades later, at a time Vulk-Sou had foreseen his student would be needed. Their parting words would be an apology; Vulk-Sou shared that he truly felt Rusa-Ka Nakaan was ready for the Trials, ready for Knighthood, yet the will of the Force did not afford them the time.

When he was awakened by the system of the forgotten Jedi facility, it was sixty years or so later. Though biologically still of twenty years in age, Rusa-Ka was truly eighty, still young but a mental relic given how dramatically the galaxy had changed. He mourned the passing of the Jedi Order of old, the waning of the Light as he slumbered, and briefly resented the fact that he was safely sealed away as others fought and died. Then, Vulk-Sou's lessons called him back to the here and now, tempered his pain with purpose. The old Order wasn't gone so long as those like Nakaan still lived; he had the potential even to restore it, knowing as it did the ways of an organization now long dead to most.

Rusa-Ka has since been roaming Known Space in his Jedi Starfighter, the similarly aged ship which had seen him through the Clone Wars still as functional as ever, following the guidance of the Force toward those causes which felt just and true to the Light. It was honest fact that he was forced now to sometimes accept payment for his assistance, but never did he renege on an honest deal once struck. Some more prestigious individuals of good nature and standing were even permitted to know that he was a Jedi, in spite of the First Order thread.

Odd, then, this anonymous message beckoning him to Maz's castle. This wouldn't be his first visit. How could two creatures of such enigmatic species not be acquainted? Rusa-Ka's work had coincidentally not seen him in the Resistance's service overly often, however, and jobs dealt out at the castle were what he typically associated with that organization. Whatever could the task be, that they would call a Jedi to a place so well known for its ties - and so visible?

Personal Goals: Master Vulk-Sou wanted Rusa-Ka to live on as an ark of knowledge concerning the old Jedi Order from before Order 66, and that's a final wish he intends to grant. When the time is right, as his master was so fond of saying, there would no doubt be an opportunity to teach a new generation about the old ways struck down by Sith deception. This is his goal above and beyond all else. Until that day should come, he endeavors to do good in his somewhat mercenary living, and strenuously avoids tasks he would associate with the Dark Side no matter the payment.

Ah, and there two last wishes to fulfill, in fact. Vulk-Sou had wished he'd seen Nakaan go through the Trials and become the Knight he felt his student should've been recognized as. He wants to find a way to make that happen, and he will, even if it takes him centuries. Preferably months, though, or less. Still young, still impatient at times.



Contacts
Maz Kanata: Maz Kanata and Rusa-Ka Nakaan are, in fact, already acquainted. It was no great wonder that mysterious beings often found their way into meeting each other, if only to ease the discomfort of being mysterious among so much that was commonplace. Maz sheltered Rusa-Ka in her castle when he first unfroze and struggled through a flight to civilized space, letting him heal and explaining to him all which had transpired during his time in the long sleep. He's accepted the occasional job which has come his way from her castle, but that hasn't been overly common, and he doesn't tend to think that Maz would contact him anonymously.

Fazale Meti: If ever there was a Force User intended for the First Order, it was Fazale Meti. He and Rusa-Ka crossed paths during one of those uncommon missions he accepted from the Resistance, when he was attempting to assist in the seizure of a devastating prototype weapon. Fazale happened to be on the premises, and also on the cusp of being a fully accepted Knight of Ren. It was to his great displeasure, then, when the Force favored Rusa-Ka in the duel to follow. Somehow defeated, by a mere Padawan trained by a dead generation of Jedi, and left alive to suffer the humiliation! Though now a member of the Knights of Ren despite his failure to protect the prototype, Fazale remembers Rusa-Ka. How could he not, when he had a scar left by the little Guardian's doublesaber patched with a cybernetic implant, a ruse which was only a larger scar to his own eyes? One day soon, he obsesses about settling their score most decisively.

Vreema Sola: The senator of the respected city-planet Jemril in the Core since the founding of the New Republic, and an ardent (if secret) supporter of the Resistance since its inception as a response to the First Order's threat. Rusa-Ka perceives her emotions and thoughts to be those of a decidedly benevolent being, one who wishes to do what it just and right even if one loses prestige or profit in the process, just like himself. Rusa-Ka has quietly assisted her with a multitude of tasks, typically safeguarding lives or supplies he suspects would later be bound for the Resistance. Nevertheless, he hasn't looked into it, partly because he doesn't wish the information to get out and partly because he trusts Sola's motives.


Role-Playing SampleWith his starfighter landed and safely concealed quite a distance away, Rusa-Ka Nakaan trudged upon tridactyl feet across the verdant plains of Chandrila. He was following something he'd heard, not with his great ears, but through the Force. Calls for assistance in capturing a murderer in the wilds had been issued, and they reached him by way of a request by Senator Sola that he assist. When he arrived at Chandrila and began to sort through who had died where, he flew closer and closer to a target point by way of calling or instinct. Perhaps both. Here, he simply felt, the Force being as enigmatic a thing as ever. It was just such an insistent feeling. Here.

It was there indeed that he landed, out in the green plains a middling distance from a nearby city. How he wished the peace of that wild place was not a deception, but a truth to replace the old war he'd fallen asleep to and the new war he'd awakened in the midst of. In the midst of his pondering and regrets, the sort of feeling of inherent alarm only a Guardian would feel struck him. He thrust a clawed hand out to his right just in time to push back a similarly robed foe, though his garb was black. It was a telekinetic shove dealt just quickly enough to sent a blast of lightning harmlessly into the sky.

"A manner of introduction I am growing used to, this is," noted Rusa-Ka, though his brashly youthful quip was weighed against due caution. Anyone who could deal out that manner of Force technique was no mere dilettante in the Force, and not merely dabbling in the Dark Side. "Dare I hope for diplomacy in the face of the chaotic storm within you? It can be calmed, if only--"

The robed figure, who picked himself up and dusted his robes straight with swiping hands, wanted to hear none of it. "-- You return to the Light. Balance, honor, so forth. Spare me the call to benevolence and change on a day already so fortunate," the human exclaimed, chuckling. "I've been looking for a way to prove myself since my hedge wizard of a master's death. To prove myself worthy of the Knights of Ren! I knew it was just a matter of killing so many before help arrived, and you Jedi have never been ones to upturn your noses at such bait. Why, an even greater coincidence that you were on my list of hoped for targets!"

Rusa-Ka sighed, a rough sound coming from him, and shaked his head in such a way that the many braids hanging against his back swayed about. "No such thing as coincidence," he replied, speaking as if from regretful experience. "Meant to meet each other here, we were. I hope for better reasons than you imagine. I know not what pain led you down the dark path, but never are you wholly undone. Allow me to guide you back from your anger and turmoil."

Laughter issued forth from the future. "Guide me back? Wholly undone? I feel more powerful than I ever did at my prattling old teacher's heel! You have already seen but a small display of what I've learned. If there's no such thing as coincidence, then it was the so-called will of the Force for you to die that I may prosper further," he rambled, clearly having gone mad. The Knights would never have him, but he'd certainly still be trying to earn their interest. Amidst his raspy chuckling, he raised his hands with the intent to strike again and lifted his chin.

What he saw racing toward him would be his very last glimpse of the living world.

Nakaan had met this sort before. The sort who had no control over the Dark Side at all, who were wholly consumed by it and its madness. After a point, there was just no bringing them back. It was for that reason that, by the time the Dark Side Adept was raising his hands to strike, Rusa-Ka was already racing across the plains at speeds propelled by the Force. Clawed feet tore free of the earth as he leapt up and brandished his lightsaber hilt, a brilliant azure blade of energy forming at either end. The arms rising in his direction fell to the earth, followed by the Adept's head.

With a sigh, Rusa-Ka disengaged his lightsaber and tucked it away in his belt again. Temper the pain with purpose, he reminded himself. You have given this one peace.

There would be no more murders, at the very least. Rusa-Ka disliked how commonplace these open followers of the Dark Side were becoming since his awakening, and he disliked having to hunt them like prey even more. Nakaan always believed they could be brought back, but not today. As he settled into his old Jedi starfighter and finally allowed himself a breath, a blip sounded to inform him of a message received. A message from Anonymous, calling him to the castle of an old acquaintance. Curious, indeed...

Last edited by Kuroyama; 03-17-2019 at 12:55 PM.
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Old 03-17-2019, 06:29 AM
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@Kuroyama: Wouldn't his age be the other way around? His body is physically still twenty years old, it's just been eighty years since his birth?
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Old 03-17-2019, 08:25 AM
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Posting interest. Just need to think of a character concept.
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Old 03-17-2019, 12:57 PM
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Arthilian01 View Post
@Kuroyama: Wouldn't his age be the other way around? His body is physically still twenty years old, it's just been eighty years since his birth?
If thatís how you feel it should be written, almighty DM!

I swapped the numbers around. Hope you enjoyed the application.
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