I added a rough timeline to the first post showing when most of the student body came in, if you don't want to be in one of those batches it's alright, you were probably found by chance and not when the Master was actively recruiting.
In fear of sounding like a real d*uch, 30 BBY lands you smack between Episode I and II. The Republic is still the ruling government, though is crumbling under the strain of internal fighting. Anakin is two years into his training under Obiwan.
But since we don't run with the cannon I guess it's okay
In fear of sounding like a real d*uch, 30 BBY lands you smack between Episode I and II. The Republic is still the ruling government, though is crumbling under the strain of internal fighting. Anakin is two years into his training under Obiwan.
But since we don't run with the cannon I guess it's okay
wow, what a d*uche.
lol. Just kidding.
I am interested in this game. It seems you're hitting a star wars sweet spot, with the new movie coming out and all. Everyone's dying to play some!
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Everyone has a plan, until they get punched in the face. ~Mike Tyson
Okay I put the wrong date in the ad then, I know it was thirty years before some battle. It's meant to take place right after the empire took power, like 4-5 five years after episode 3.
Appearance: Tzua has a head of roughly shorn blonde har and piercing eyes. Long years of hard labor and meager meals have made him short for his age and very thin.
Background: Tzua was born a slave on the industrialized moon of Nar Shaddaa. He has worked in one factory or another as far back as he can remember, never knowing how he came to be there or what became of his family. The work alternated between dull, back breaking, and hazardous but Tzua was stubborn enough to persevere. Often abused by guards or other slaves and seldom sufficiently fed, he has become a bitter and angry child.
Nar Shaddaa and that life are now a full year gone. The hardships and brutality have, if anything, increased since he came to the academy but hopelessness has been replaced by ambition. The academy has become a crucible in his mind, one that promises freedom one day if only he can master its secrets.
He stood in a line of twenty young slaves. Guards had come to the barracks that morning, dragging Tzua off of his cot and throwing him in with this group before marching them all to a small building in the complex. He recognized several of the others, troublemakers like himself. Likely they were being targeted for punishment as an example to the rest of the factory workers or being sold. Both had happened to him before.
They stood, hands at their sides and eyes fixed on the floor in front of them, the threat of a beating keeping them in place. Two men entered the room and Tzua recognized the voice of the Overseer as he extolled the virtues of the young, strong, and malleable stock on offer. Progressing down the line, he prattled on and on while the other was silent. Tzua briefly entertained the thought of striking out at the Overseer as he passed. He visualized kicking, scratching, biting, any sort of hurt he could inflict before the guards pulled him off and bludgeoned him into unconsciousness or death.
While this fantasy ran through his mind, the pair reached Tzua's place in line. The silent customer stopped, slowly turning to face the row of chattel. Caught off guard, the Overseer's long and practiced speech faltered. Tzua's eyes were still trained on the floor, he could see only the black boots the man wore. The customer spoke, "This group will be adequate, barely. I will give you half of the price we discussed."
"Half!? Impossible. These workers are highly valuable to....." The Overseer's protest cut off when the man in black boots turned again to face him. Tzua imagined he could feel the menace that filled the room.
"Half the discussed price", the prospective buyer repeated, pausing after each word. That concluded the negotiations.
Two hours later, Tzua watched, stunned, as the last of his fellow slaves' bodies were ejected from the airlock on his new master's ship. The whole group had been purchased to hide the fact that Tzua had been singled out. Then they'd been mercilessly slaughtered in front of him. "They are of no importance", the man explained. "You have a gift. One that makes you valuable should to possess the will to cultivate it, to harness it. We shall discover if that is so."
It has been a year. Many of his fellow students have attempted escape from the academy, with all of its hardships, brutality, and competitiveness. Not Tzua. Though he hates the master, the instructors, his fellow students (most of them anyway), and the oppressive heaviness of the place, he recognizes the distasteful necessity of it all. He yearns to be free of them and it and freedom is precisely what the Sith Code promises. But that comes last. For now, he must endure.
He has had his stumbles. At times, his hatred and rage have driven him into foolish actions and earned harsh reprisals. He struggles to be outwardly calm and serene while his passions seethe within. They will fuel him and make him strong the code says and he does not wish to waste them. There will be a day, far in the future, when he will have the power to leave behind the mantle of slave forever. For that, Tzua will endure a great deal.
Last edited by ultrasmurf; Jan 17th, 2016 at 09:07 AM.
Reason: Added Tzua's outlook on the academy
Your anzati sounds interesting, though I'm definitely not taking two of that species, but I gotta tell you that none of the players are starting with lightsabers, sorry. You can start with proficiency.
Age: 13 (Brought in 5 years ago, at age 8) Race: Mandalorian Human (There is no mechanical benefit or cost to this unless you make one in game, which I am open to (either as a pro or a con, role-playing is more fun with some chaos!)Sith bloodline)
Appearance: Krynn is tall, slim, and lithe, though his skinniness is exacerbated by his age. He is very pale, having come from a cold world and then kept inside for the most part since arriving. He has very short, buzz-cut dark blonde hair. His features are best described as sharp, with an aquiline nose, high, prominent cheekbones, and a narrow chin, he is vaguely reminiscent of a predatory bird - an impression not helped by his tendency towards long stretches without blinking and intense eye-contact. His eyes are an unnaturally bright blue, a trait considered among his people to be highly desirable. He tends towards smooth, dark clothing, favouring synthetics and leather for their durability and strength - traits he respects greatly.
His bearing is proud, reflecting the praise and training his instructors and mentors before them have given him. He stands straight, shoulders back but rounded as he has yet to become comfortable with the growth his body is going through. Despite the sprouting height of his age, it is clear that he will never be a heavy set man, but rather he will stay whipcord thin even in adulthood. His rapid gain in height has given him a slouch, but his natural talent and power combined with the victories he has won in competition with his classmates, and the burning fire of anger and determination earned with his losses, have given him a strong, confident stride. The effect of a confident slouch is similar to watching a wolf lope through the woods: relaxed, effortless, deadly. However, his defeats have taught him caution, if not humility, and he is careful not to present too direct a challenge until he is ready to seize the advantage and crush his enemy.
Personality: Krynn is cold and calculating, but he does his best to hide this behind a calm, open-seeming mask. Strong and controlled, Krynn is confident and sometimes arrogant, knowing that his powerful connection to the force and physical aptitude will carry him through most challenges with ease. His long time in the academy, however, has taught him the lesson of feigned humility, and how to accept the authority of those more powerful then he until such a time as he can turn the tide. Years of being beaten and shown that weakness and failure bring only death and despair have given him the utmost respect for strength and power, in all the forms it may take.
He tends to take his time, carefully planning and putting the pieces in place before engaging in the final stages of his plans. He has an impulsive streak, and always has, however he strives to know the difference between impulsiveness and instinct. His strong connection with the dark side gives him excellent intuition, but his youth and inexperience has led him astray more then once, and now he constantly forces himself to be patient and cautious. Once committed, however, Krynn throws himself at challenges with the fury of a true berserker.
Krynn has the same dark humour that all Mandalorians have, however he does make an effort to get along with his fellow students, knowing that popularity and loyalty are forms of power in their own right. His loyalty may have been seized with the strength of the Academy, but he still respects the lessons learned from the quartermasters. He tries to avoid any confrontation with other students by always seeming in a position of strength, unless he is able to strike those who others view as powerful. It is by only striking at the strongest of the students that he remains firmly in the top rankings. The young man does not shame himself by shying away from a fight, but rather uses his strength and cunning to end them with ferocity and aggression.
He has a thirst for knowledge, whether that is in history and especially the more martial studies that are his heritage, Krynn throws his all into every lesson. His determination to acquire the power he sees as his birthright is limitless, and pushes him beyond what is expected of him. He will do everything he can to learn and to grow as a Sith, and eventually rise to strike down those that destroyed the great Empire of his ancestors.
The Jarr'yll family is an old, and powerful clan on the moon of Concordia, a world known for its great warriors and militant history. After the Mandalorian civil war, the rule of the system came into the hands of the New Mandalorians, a group saddened by the civil war and sickened by the massive loss of life, both by war and by the plague of Wirt-cough, in the past decade. This aversion to war and death gave them great resolve as pacifists, and their status as great warriors who chose the path of peace allowed the world to gain a great deal of influence as the leader of the coalition of neutral systems. As Pre Vizsla led the deathwatch in a crusade to free Mandalore from the oppression of pacifists, Wyyra Jarr'yll stood beside him as one of his most trusted lieutenants. A warrior who preached strength, honour, and courage, Wyyra led his men from the front, and won several notable victories in the uprising, most impressive of which was the personal slaying of the Black Sun leadership when the gang took the capital.
After Darth Maul defeated Vizsla, Wyyra was one of the de facto leaders of the Deathwatch soldiers that remained loyal to Maul and Savage, and joined the ranks of the powerful Mandalorian Super Commandos. He was not selected to rescue Darth Maul, but he was left in charge of the occupation forces left behind. As this went on, he took it upon himself to provide all the education his son would receive - a Sith controlled regime not being the most trust-worthy school. So it was that Krynn was exposed to combat training, blasters, knifes, jet-packs, hand-to-hand, you name it. He was drilled relentlessly, with plenty of bruises, scrapes, and training scars to show for his efforts. He was very young, but youth has never stopped the Mandalorians from learning the arts of war. So it went... until the death of the Dathomirian brothers...
After the fall of the Shadow Collective, it was but a short time until the newly founded Galactic Empire came knocking, seizing the conflict-ridden world in the name of the Emperor. Needless to say, the independence-minded warriors once again re-organized into a rebellious group, this time spreading from their native world to build their strength enough to liberate their world once and for all. They found another small moon, and settled in. The cycle continued, wake up and train until they were past fatigued, and check the comms for signals from the recruitment teams. It was here that Krynn's destiny was forever changed.
It was a few days after his 8th birthday that the Master came to call. A true manifestation of fate, the moon in question was the resting place of an ancient Sith technology, a great arcane device crafted for one express purpose: to ensure the continuation of the pure Sith bloodline. It was only the hand of fate that cause the great Sith to reach out with his feelings, and find the powerful presence of Krynn just a few short kilometres away. Through a clever ploy of harrying attacks, the Master drew Wyyra, Krynn, and three others in a winding route back to the ancient ruins, building their anger and frustration into rage and hate as he mocked them, appearing from nowhere to strike painful, but superficial wounds into the men, drawing them ever closer to his goal. Before long, bleeding and wearied but furious, the Mando'ade had reached the ruined entrance to an ancient temple of some kind. As they entered, Wyyra had to suppress a shudder and visibly force himself to take another step, and the three warriors with them couldn't even bring themselves to cross the threshold. A crawling, morbid sense of mortality washed over them, filling even these battle-hardened hearts with fear and weakness. Only Krynn crossed without more then a fleeting feeling of icy cold shivering across him. Concerned, but driven to end this chase by pride, the pair of them continued on, led only by the echoes of laughter reverberating down the hall in front of them.
Finally they emerged from the darkness into a massive chamber, carved from top to bottom with strange, arcane symbols, and inconceivable machinery lined the walls. In the centre, lightly glowing as if under some great, invisible beam of light, was a dais, upon which a great, ornate throne-like chair was installed. So magnificent, this throne, it took a moment for the pair to realize they had finally caught their prey. As the man turned, and raised a hand, Wyyra and Krynn realized they were the prey after all. With a gesture, their weapons flew from their hands, and they felt an irresistible desire to simply walk forward and kneel before this irrefutable lord. It was then that they heard the voice for the first time.
I am impressed. it said. The deep, sonorous baritone seemed to melt in their heads, soaking into their minds with the almost pain of a drink sipped slightly before being cool. It was intoxicating, and despite their revulsion, they craved the next words. I had not expected to see anyone able to set foot in this place. Though I would not imagine you would have any idea what this place is. He strode forwards then, towards the throne, and gently caressed the side, as one would the very greatest of prizes. This is a Chamber of Purity, left over from the Golden Age of the Sith, thousands of years ago. It was a project by the Dark Lord Marka Ragnos, who traced his lineage back to the very first Dark Lords, more years in the past then any could hope to recall. It has a very valuable purpose, as you shall see.
Without so much as a glance, he made a small summoning gesture, and Wyyra stood, walking over with a disgustingly subservient cast to his shoulders. Without a moment's hesitation, he sat in the throne, though even he seemed surprised by it. The Master quickly busied himself at the control panel some few meters in front of the seated warrior, and a set of shackles clamped shut over Wyyra's wrists and ankles. Even as he began to struggle, a cry of pain slipped past his lips, and his back arched. Lights began running in convoluted patterns from the edges inwards, and the man's head suddenly ceased the shaking, growing unnaturally still while the rest of his body bucked and writhed in his restraints. As the lights finally reached the middle, they went a tinge of pink, and even more quickly then it began, all motion and sound stopped, leaving only the now-pinkish glow and the echo of the shackles clacking open.
A shame. I had had such high hopes, making it so far into the chamber, with no training or idea of what you had found. Alas, perhaps we may find a use for him in a moment, isn't that right young one? The Master gave Krynn a warm smile, which once again washed all thoughts of fear and anger from the young boy's mind. As his father collapsed out of the throne, rolling away with the leftover force of whatever had flung him from his unconscious perch in the first place, Krynn walked up to take his place. As he sat, The Master looked him dead in the eye, quirked his mouth into an almost mocking half-smile, and said simply Try not shame yourself with such a display as your father. Show me your worth, boy.
While before this, he had obeyed out of some inexplicable urge, as though he was removed from himself, at this instruction he felt his own, very human, resolve take a grip. He did not know who this man was, or why he had taken them here. All he knew was that this man was powerful, and Krynn would not allow himself to be shamed! Setting his mouth and shoulders proudly, he did not even flinch as he shackles clamped shut. As the machine thrummed into life, the deep, almost sub-audible hum purring into his bones, he realized the cry of pain had been thick, long needles sliding into the arteries of the wrists. Still, he refused to utter a sound. The lights began drawing inwards, and his back arched, but still no sound left his lips. Abruptly, a sharp, lancing agony as the final spike drove through the base-plate of his skull, and it all went black...
Krynn came to at the edge of the dais, where he had been laid with his cloak bundled as a rough pillow. The first thing he noticed, before opening his eyes, was that there was no pain. His arms, and his skull, they felt as though nothing had happened. As he dared to open his eyes, wondering if perhaps, maybe, it had all been a dream, that hope was shattered, as he soaked in a deep, dark, blood-red glow through the chamber. Standing over him, in perfect, pristine posture and form, was The Master. He looked down, his eyes slightly widened, and renewed Krynn's spellbound demeanour. You, boy, are the most valuable thing on this world. I woke you to witness one thing, and then you shall rest. With those words, he turned Krynn's head to take in his prone father. Before Krynn could accept what he was seeing, The Master ignited his lightsaber and plunged it through Wyyra's heart.
You now have nothing, young one. From that nothing, you will discover a power greater then anything you can imagine. Never forget your loss, your pain, for you have the true blood of a Sith... and with those words, Krynn blacked out...
Background: Krynn hails from an ice-world called Tyrell, a large, barren world in the outer rim. Being as cold and The world has almost no natural flora or fauna, with some imported farming but very, very little sustainable agriculture, and that only in the southern reach. The settlements are mostly scattered, concentrated around the major debris fields. The industry that keep this planet inhabited is reclamation. Millennia ago, a great space battle occurred in the system, and it is the shattered wreckage of the many fighters and capital ships that sustains the people living here. Initially "colonized" a few hundred years ago, there are now several generations of indentured scavvers, loosely governed by the various corporations which were licensed by the republic before the formation of the Empire. The lack of resources and therefore the lack of variety in profession means that the local economy runs on ration-credits. Each season, the corporate freighters make the journey in to collect the Reclamation Teams' salvage, and provide the next batch of imported workers and rations. At this point, there are very few new workers, however, and the lack of major caches discovered in the past few years has both discouraged immigration and lessened the number of freighters making the run.
Working as just a simple scavver with his father, he knew nothing except the stories told around the settlement when they went to turn in their salvage. He worked hard, and learned as much about the tech as he could, using his quick mind and powerful instincts to help keep the pair of them from starving. He had never met his mother, and had never really known to miss her. There were not that many families, and those there were tended to keep to themselves, so the idea of being a true family was alien to the boy. His father was not abusive, per se, however he was not warm or kind either. He expected his son to work hard and earn his keep, and accepted nothing less. It was from his years of working with his father that he gained his dark humour and quiet, assertive demeanour.
When he was 8, a private ship arrived. This was quite the occurrence, since without the ancient salvage licenses, it was illegal to take any salvage without purchasing it from a licensed reclamation team. This didn't stop the new-comers however, as they landed directly in an old, long-abandoned scav-zone. In a turn of events that were to forever change the future of Krynn Jarr'yll, his father and he were the ones with the permit that included that scav-zone. Saddling up their speeder, with his nerves as jittery as they had ever been, Krynn headed off with his father to politely, but firmly, tell this new fool to burn atmo, with blasters if needed. Looking back, Krynn is still shocked at the simple, foolish arrogance of his father. If only he had known the true potential he was wasting!
As they arrived at the landing zone, it was a strange sight indeed that greeted them. Three strange, ominous black droids were hovering about the wreckage, clearly scanning for something, while a man, dressed all in black and red, oversaw the work, strange objects along his belt. What could they possibly be searching for? This area has been picked clean a dozen times over... the boy thought, curious as ever. It was this curiosity that made the young man lose focus, for just a breath, and lose his footing. As the kicked piece of durasteel skittered off, the droids reacted instantly, sprouting spikes and saw blades and barrels, but the man did not even flinch. As the scavvers stood, raising their own weapons, the man simply reached out with one hand-not even looking their way!-and waved the droids into standby mode.
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No fate but what you make.
Last edited by BangBangTequila; Jan 29th, 2016 at 01:33 PM.
All good, i'll edit the post to reflect that. The Anzati race has always fascinated me, from the first time I read Dannik's story in Tales from the Cantina
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Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it. You know, I just... Do things.
To be honest the whole telepathy thing and the ability to consume force users/gain their power worries me. I definitely don't want one player to have a huge edge over the others.
The way I am reading the race, the drain is an attack power in essence, but I don't gain their power. And it isn't just force users. Though from what I understand, Force users were 'tastier.'
As written reads: A successful unarmed melee attack against a grappled, stunned, or helpless creature allows the Anzat to inset his proboscises into the creature's brain (usually through sinus cavities) and drain its 'soup.' (The Anzat can furl and unfurl the proboscises as a free action.) A successful attack stuns the victim, and the stun effect remains until the Anzat withdraws the proboscises or dies. Only a victim who is not already stunned is entitled to a Fortitude save to negate the stun effect. Each round of feeding deals 1 point of temporary Constitution damage to the target creature. The target dies when reduced to 0 Con points. Once an Anzat begins feeding, he is compelled to consume all he can. Only the risk of death will cause him to leave a meal unfinished.
If we scratch the telepathy/stun completely, I don't think its too far out there. Without the innate stun, any victims would be able to save on the stun from the attack, as well as I understood it to be basically a full round action for me as well. And unless I missed something I don't believe a character gains anything from consuming an npc. Seems more of an RP event/sustenance.
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Do I really look like a guy with a plan? You know what I am? I'm a dog chasing cars. I wouldn't know what to do with one if I caught it. You know, I just... Do things.
Last edited by Darays; Jan 13th, 2016 at 07:54 PM.
Jan 12th, 2016, 11:07 AM
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