SWRPF Archive War of the Galaxies Deux [Restart of the WOTG Saga] - Looking for players, see updated first post!

OOC: Here we go, enter the Yuuzhan Vong...

IC: Commissioner Pax Dellos, Helska, Surface

---

After a kilometer's march, which took nearly an hour in the winds and heavy ice, the squad parked on a ice cliff perhaps one hundred meters above the ground. A perfect survey of the expanse and the vast bulk before them. The asteroid was huge, the end it was displaying a full kilometer wide. The orbital scans pegged its length as even more than that. And it was evident from the snowfall around it that it had been here for some time. It was impossible to tell without an astromech, but at least a few weeks. Perhaps even a month. One of Faltonni's men was setting up a smallish sensor to begin a passive scan of the rock and hopefully analyze just how it had come to survive on this unlikely planet.

Ice-winds and snow blew past Pax as he eyed the asteroid from the cliff through a pair of electrobinoculars. It was difficult to make out the entire shape of the object, but one thing had become immediately evident. This was like nothing any of the men had seen before. Colors, bizarrely vibrant, crisscrossed the surface of the rock. It even had spines and crags inconsistent with interstellar debris.

"Major, I think that the pirates we're chasing either had a piss poor designer for this fake rock... or we have discovered some new kind of material..." the Commissioner said, quizzically, adjusting the settings in a useless attempt to make out more of the object.

Pax could not stop the cold, even with all of the equipment the Major had given him. The other men were surely experiencing the frozen temperatures just as much as Pax and were not complaining, though. Looking back, Dellos saw that the sensor was operating.

"What are we getting?"

"We're starting to get some information back... not much, Commissioner. Really just a high resolution detail of the rock. Nothing penetrating. The ice is refracting a lot of the scans... I can't even get a composition scan."

"Damn... I don't really want to get much attention, especially so close to this... thing," Pax said, contemplating the situation. He had his orders, as they men did. And he would follow them, as was his duty -- even into danger. "We need to know what it is. Go active on the sensors and... and make sure we have a good uplink to the [i]Rebel Reprisal[/i] in the event of a transmission loss," Pax said, forcing any thought of death from his mind. All that existed was the discovery. He had performed countless missions such as these. But none had seemed so dire and... [i]alien[/i].

A light hum began to throb, mostly blanketed out by the sound of the wind, as the device drew on more power from the portable fusion pack. A minute passed as the sensors pinged outward on numerous transmission bands and with many gravtic and density scanning devices. To Pax's surprise, the materials in the rock were... almost wholly unknown. Carbon and nitrogen was detected, but not in ratios found anywhere else in this galaxy. Most disturbing of all... some of the scans were bringing back indications of lifesigns. Nothing conclusive, but enough to prove that this was no mere rock in Pax's mind. The sensor was not the most powerful in the universe and had to sacrifice some operational abilities for stealth, but even it could detect some signs of a superstructure to the asteroid, or rather, base... perhaps even ship, Pax noted, looking at some of the aerodynamics of the vessel. He would have to have the ship's computer run the structure through a battery of simulations, but it seemed even [i]space[/i]-worthy, which chilled Pax more than any Helskan wind could. But the thing was hardly conventional, at least what Pax could see.

Almost organic.

"What the kriff..." Pax said almost under his breath, uncharacteristically swearing. His expletive was directed at the readout, but the other men's were directed at a odd piece of rock-like material floating out of the asteroid/ship and flying toward them. It launched from one of th

 

Jim Halsen/Sticks
The Hutt's Head Bar - Commenor


Jim wondered what he was going to do, once they arrived at their next destination. This was going to be tricky. This guy was good. So why did he need him? Jim wondered. Jim followed until the speeder made it to some place called the 'Hutts Head Bar'. Jim chuckled. His type of place. He hovered, out of sight, as he waited to see if that was the man's true destination, or not. One he was sure that was where the man was hiding, he landed his speeder out to the side of the place. He locked it down, and then he carefuly hid his weapons out of sight, except for one plain blaster. He would look a bit obvious, if he walked in with NO weapons whatsoever. With careful steps, he walked into the bar. This guy could have anything set up, and waiting for him, so he walked in with careful steps. This guy had training too. He would have to keep his engines primed.

As he walked into the bar, he looked over at the elder Bothan. Hmm. He had delt with Bothans before. Some could be rather a pain in the rear. But at least he would find out just how well this guy was connected. He took a direct line to the bar. "Corellian ale." he stated, as he stood next to the bar, scanning its occupants briefly. The man he had followed was not here. Must be someplace upstairs. He would have his drink first, and feel this Bothan out, before he stated asking any questions. Then again, he might just have some info for him.

Again, the stench of some type of Intel made his eyes narrow, as he brushed back his hair, while waiting for his drink. His blaster was...close, ready to sing into action at a moments notice.

Sticks waited for his drink, as he mused darkly within his own thoughts. He did not like chasing his contacts, but something told him, that this might be the one. Anyway, he would need his sticks again soon....

"Sometime today.." he muttered as he waited on his drink.



TAG:DarthSeti5

 

IC - Major Garr Faltonni
Helska System, Outer Rim Territories

Shifting his gaze from the circling rock, to the approaching figures on the horizon, Faltonni heard Dellos. "I don't think they've found the ship or they'd have hit it by now! What do we do, Major?"

Instinct and training took over, shifting all doubt to a small corner of his mind, and locking it away. "Joahnis! Trigger that detpack, now!"

Joahnis shifted the weight of his weapon to his left hand, then pulled the firing detonator from his webbing. Depressing his thumb, he set the small explosive off. The satisfying boom in the distance brought a slight smile to his face.

One job done.

"Coynyrs - take that thing out! Pholie - supression fire on whatever they are!" Two of his troops nodded - Coynyrs laid his T-21 down and pulled the Finbat launcher from his back, bracing it on his shoulder. Pholie, the squad sniper, dropped to one knee and activated the holorecorder on his sniper scope. Raising his rifle to firing position, he took aim at the closest figure.

"What the kriff?" he muttered, as the figures resolved themselves. They were clearly humanoid, but . . . well, wrong. Their armour looked organic, and they carried strange weapons that seemed to move on their own. And their faces . . .

Pholie cleared his thoughts. Just another target, no matter how strange they look.

As Coynyrs and Pholie took position, Faltonni switch his comm frequency. "Natti!" he yelled into the link. "I need a dust-off under fire, right now!"

The reply was tinny in his ear. "Monitoring the situation. Moving in, weapons hot."

Glancing up, Faltonni saw the ice start to kick up from the direction of the gunship, indicating NAtti coming in on a low-altitude run. From behind him came the first shots from Pholie's LD-1 sniper rifle, punctuated by the roar of the missile launched towards the circling presence. He watched the flight of the missile as it sped away, creeping closer to its target.

Tag: DS5

 

IC: Commissioner Pax Dellos, Helska, Surface

---

Chaos. The heavy blaster was deep and penetrating, thundering its fire across the nascent battlefield -- rapid shots of blood red energy racing out to meet an unknown enemy. Pax was not terrified, he had no time to be. He only the sense that death was racing towards him and Alpha Squad across the ice fields of Helska. Helska. What a strange planet to encounter such a threat. It was all... just beyond strange. Pax had never seen anything like it. The only thing grounding him was the professional response of Alpha Squad. Alliance heroes, one of the themes that had been recently passing through Pax's mind. These were Alliance heroes.

Corporal Pholie was attempting to pick off some of the horde approaching the squad, but with little luck. His shots were well aimed, but the armor of the enemy seemed to be incredibly powerful. After several shots, one of them finally fell. Finally. So many shots at one target. These were no pirates. Not to mention pirates did not normally fly comets and build secret asteroid bases out of extragalactic material.

Pax ducked slightly as missiles took off and the T-21 began firing at the flying piece of rock. He noticed an odd distortion.

"Tractor beam..." Pax said, remembering a neat trick he had seen with missiles and tractor beams, but then the lasers also began to bend and distort and... disappear. "This isn't right."

The missiles and lasers just stopped, pulling into a point below the craft and then to the side. It could shift?

"Major, just what in the hell is that," Pax yelled out, noting all of the men's heads were trained intently on the action, recording it for further analysis. Thankfully. Pax could easily imagine quite a few briefings on this encounter. It was fantasy made into reality. Suddenly, a bit of craggy rock blasted red hot out of the slowly landing vessel. Pax would have to review the holodata, but it had seemed like Coynyrs' T-21 had been jostled by one of the men and it had shifted violently to the right. "I don't care!" Pax shouted, checking his data package to ensure that all of the information was being stored correctly. Another look toward the approaching mob. No less than half a kilometer away now.

Then, finally, the wind picked up as the LAAT/i sneaked around the comet-ship which was now only a few meters off of the ground. A opening appeared and more of the humanoid creatures began to pour out, four hundred meters from the squad.

TAG: [b]cavalier_one[/b][/blockquote]

 

IC - Major Garr Faltonni
Helska, Outer Rim Territories

Had he really seen that? Had he really seen lasers and missiles simply disappear as they had neared that - for lack of a better word - rock? Of course, it wasn't really a rock. It moved like a starfighter, hunted like a predator. And now, it was landing.

As it settled, a fissure appeared in the side. Faltonni noted that the hull of the ship seemed alive somehow, and that the hatch had blended perfectly with the rest of the vessel. Still, he wasn't there to compare the aesthetics of starship design.

"Squad! Concentrate fire!" he ordered, using hand signals to indicate the opening fissure. Four hundred meters away, he mused. Safe enough for grenades. "Grenades!"

Almost as one, the squad cocked the micro-grenade launchers attached to their rifles, and brought them to bear on the opening just as more of the strange, humanoid aliens emerged.

"Fire in the hole!"

Six loud booms echoed across the icy plains and the micro-grenades launched, heading directly for the centre of the alien formation, followed by the unmistakable sound of blasters set to kill. Coynyrs, possessing no micro-grenade launcher on is weapon, dropped to a prone position and opened up with the T-21, raking it back and forth across the enemy. Pholie remained at his post, targeting the aliens coming at them from further away, slowly getting more annoyed at the amount of shots they seemed to shrug off.

In Faltonni's ear piece, he heard a small crackle, then Natti's voice. "Stand by, Major; gunners, open fire." Almost immediately, the sound of his blaster rifle was drowned out by the roar of the gunship's weapons opening up, targeting the landed rock and her complement of strange warriors.

The gunship roared in, then began to slow and settle on its repulsors. Faltonni shouted into the comm. "Squad! Prepare to fall back!"

Tag: DS5

 

Sorry I disappeared again; had some life-changing events in my life... including moving off the base. New computer and all that grand stuff.
I'll play on as both J'aac Domain Halikron and this silly guy.

---

[blockquote] Class: Noble, Soldier, and Scoundrel
Name: Jace Halycron
Nickname: 'Lightning Prince'
Gender: Male
Age: 28
Species: Human
Homeworld: Toprawa
Spoken Language: Basic
Other Languages: Many

Appearance
---Height: 6'1"
---Eye Color: Green
---Hair Color: Brown
---Skin Color: Caucasian
---Clothing: Civilian attire: Brown trousers, offwhite tunic, blue-gray spacer's jacket; Antarian Rangers' armor: flat gray flightsuit, green with gold trim breastplate, similarly colored cloak; Prince's Garb: white trousers, dark green, gold-trimmed, dress jacket, military medals, gold shoulder epaulets.
---Other: Polished knee-highs throughout, gunbelt, ceremonial vibrosword.

Personality: Existential-nihilist, a sufferer of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder over the death of his family at age 14, depressed (almost soley experiences moods of severe/intense melancholia) but hides it well, finds himself lost in a universe he can't control, wants to give up but lacks the resolve to end his own life or take action, cold and calculating, very likely disturbed. The potential exists for other undiagnosed psychological disorders resulting from either trauma, past experiences, or medical issues.
Habits: Minutely paranoid, obsessed with details and knowing as much as he can about any situation (almost randomly), can freely psycho-analyze himself/others and often does, and partakes too freely with the grain alcohol.
Likes: Alcohol, women whose names he won't remember (but always does), thrill-seeking adventures, rock-climbing, exercise, and shockball.
Dislikes: Doctors, hospitals, bacta, democracy,
Talents: Diplomacy, tactics & strategem, psychology,
Weakness: PTSD, depression, bad knee from teenage years, (will develop overprotectivity of new relationships).
Limitations: No force sensitivity, depression, being only human...
Racial Attributes: Plain Jane human-type.

Affiliation: Toprawan Alliance
---Rank: Prince (simultaneously holds the ranks of Commander-in-Chief and Chief of State)
---Branch: The Honorable House of Halycron
---Station: Caen Palace, Talya, Toprawa.
---Unit: [i]Victory[/i]-class Star Destroyer [i]Rebirth[/i]
---Position: Flag Officer
---Primary Weapons: Modified Blastech DH-17 blaster pistols, ceremonial vibrosword, vibroblade in arm sheath, and boot knife.

Personal Ship
---Name: [i]Earthshatter[/i]
---Model: Heavily modified Z-95 Headhunter
---Accessories: Reinforced armor, shielding, overhauled power generator, hyperdrive.

The Force
---Yes or No?: No.

Background: At an early age, as far back as Jace could remember, he'd been different. His parents had been the prim-and-proper King and Queen of Toprawa, his father expanding their alliance outside of the Toprawa System. At age 14, the Halycron family had been staying on Dantooine at a hunting lodge, when the facility had been overrun by two warring Dantari clans. Nearly everyone involved in the tragedy, including his brother and parents, were killed.
For whatever reason, the Dantari chieftain of the Planeswind clan took the Halycron youth and raised him. At age 17, Jace Halycron went on a walkabout and never returned.

Hardened to the elements, 18 year old Jace Halycron appeared on Chandrila. There he was identified by his lost grandmother. She died a mere 3 weeks after meeting her grandson.
Jace served in the Chandrilan Police Service for a period of 3 years, at which time he was voluntarily discharged. He moved to Corellia, where he spent time in the Corellian Army and rose to the rank of Sergeant. After the devastation of Toprawa before the Battle of Yavin, Jace was reported as 'Released From Official Obligations & Duties' by the Corellian Military, and returned ho

 

Darth Stygius

Hyperspace

Stygius sat cross-legged on the floor of his stolen vessel, the cargo room was cold and dark save for a few glowing lights from a door control panel. The room was devoid of any of the previous occupants belongings, making the large chamber seem more vast than it was. The slow and deep breaths of the Sith Lord seemed louder as the man meditated on the location of his next desire. Darkside energies surrounded him and penetrated him as he stretched out into the Force, calling upon it and molding it to the purpose that he demanded of it.

The ancient Dark Lord lowered his raised palms to his knees as he slipped into a meditative trance.

He saw what he was looking for. Encased in a transparent plexiglass case, resting on a plush velvet red pillow were two black cylinders. One was shorter than the other and less complicated looking than its longer companion. The smaller one had red piping around the grip while its enclosed end sharpened to a bladed point, but just at the hilt was a small red crystal embedded. The longer cylinder had six claw-like protrusions reaching out inward from the open end of the shaft. Studded down its sides were red crystals that ended with a larger, paler crystal.

It had not been easy to envision his lightsabers. With his mysterious loss of strength in the Force, he found it difficult to foresee into the present and imagined if he tried to see the future he would see nothing. But he had succeeded in what he wanted. Now all he had to do was find clues as to where his lightsabers were located.

Self-consciously aware of his weakness, he carefully tried to pull back to see a larger view of the area around his weapons. Instead he saw them fade from his mind and he thought he was losing his concentration. Focusing more to regain the image and finding that he could not, he did not realize what was happening until it was thrusted into his face...

Somewhere... sometime...

The pristine marble walls and columns of the expansive hallway were impressive but went unnoticed to the two occupants casually walking down its length. Along the columns and walls at intervels and at attention were erect, crimson armored men and women. They all wore the same red chest and shoulder plates with a flowing black cape that matched the color of their leather padded armor. Dangling at each of their belts were impersonalized silver cylinders. These guardians paid no heed to the two people but were well aware of their presence in the hall.

"The Force is more than this mortal misconceptions of light and dark, my apprentice," spoke the black robed figure on the right of a beautiful young woman. He wore over his robes a hooded cloak that had a blood-red trim along the hem. His face could not be seen behind the dark mesh mask. But his demenour spoke of a powerful and dark presence not to be trifeled with.

"It is not always so easy to tell," the new Empress said. "Mortal emotions have a way of coloring people's perceptions. It makes one think that whatever is in their own mind must be reflected in the rest of reality as well. It is a vanity."

She spoke softly, but with a firm tone of voice. She seemed to be speaking from a great distance away, but that was just a function of her tone. Her face was covered with a cowl, but her marble-like visage peered out of it. Her robes were nondescript black Sith garments, nondescript except for the golden clasp of her cloak and the hit of golden shoulder paldrons and shin armor underneath the cloak.

"Emotions dictate our actions. We are responsible for what we do, not the Force," he replied. "The Force offers us choices and the decision to walk down a path that which appears to others as the Darkside is of our own. If you were to choose to execute scores of dozens of prisoners of war and then later spared the lives of the protestors mixed in with the crowd outside; could you call your actions evil?"

"That would depend on who you were asking. Different people have different answers, which is why the term

 

Darth Stygius

Upper City, Taris

He could feel them. They were somewhere near, somewhere located on the surface of this wretched city planet. Where exactly he could not tell. He did not want to go wander this city aimlessly looking for what he sought. He knew the history of this world and its past dealings with the Sith. If today's Tarisans bode any hatred for his kind, he would most certainly expect a very cold welcome.

That is why he was taking the precaution to only venture out from his ship at night. It was not as if he was afraid of the locals, it was more like he did not want have to deal with such obstacles. He knew he could handle them and any security personnel that tried to dispose of him. He handled the last encounter perfectly well. He just did not want to have to go through it again and attract the attention of the Jedi Princess's guardians. If there was one good thing that came out of Darth Bane's philosophy for the Sith, it was stealth and secrecy.

So when nightfall finally came, Darth Stygius departed from his ship and made his way through the city in the direction he felt his lightsabers were located.

TAG: No one

 

Class: Scoundrel
Name: Norbert Penwig
Nickname: Nor, Norb
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Species: Human
Homeworld: Orbit station 454
Spoken Language: Basic
Other Languages: None

Appearance
---Height: 5? 5?
---Eye Color: Hazel
---Hair/Fur Color: Dark brown
---Skin Color: Light Tan
---Clothing: Torn black pants, leather boots, dirty white shirt, and a old black duster.
---Other: (scars, tattoos etc) The number 454-22-9842 is tattooed on his left forearm. He has a large scar on his right shoulder from a vibro blade fight when he was a teenager.

Personality: Slightly anti-social, but not against having friends. Ready for adventure, and has a little bit of a gambling, and spice addiction.
Habits: Drinks all to much, and cant hold onto his money for very long.
Likes: Space, and cold weather.
Dislikes: Heat, rodents, insects, caves.
Talents: Brilliant social manipulator. Knows his way around a vibro-blade better than most.
Weakness: Can?t make good social connections quickly, cant stand people with dirty faces.
Limitations: Cant drive a hover craft.
Racial Attributes: None.


Affiliation: Smaller Faction (Smugglers)
---Rank: Agent
---Branch: Spice/Explosives dealing.
---Station: Nar Shadda
---Unit: None
---Position: None.
---Primary Weapons: Hold-out Blaster, and a short Vibro-blade.

Personal Ship
---Name: The Polar Opposite
---Model: YT-1300 Transport
---Accessories: Roomy cargo hold, which doubles as sleeping quarters for Norbert, and any one else he has along for the ride.

The Force: (optional)
---Yes or No?: No.
---Affiliation: N/A
---Title: N/A
---Force Abilities: N/A
---Force Weakness: N/A
---Lightsaber Type: N/A
---Blade Color: N/A
---# of Lightsabers: N/A
---Other: N/A

Background: Norbert was born on a orbiting evacuee station, during the years of war and natural disaster on his homeworld. He started pushing stolen goods at the age of 12, and did a brief stint in an imperial prison, where he acquired his tattoo. After his time in prison he reformed for a while, but no one can stay out of the system for long. He was back at the age of 15 after only being out of prison for six weeks, he was caught robbing a ship, and in the process the ships owner was shot. But not killed? so Norbert escaped the death sentence. The time he spent in prison has made him a little anti-social, but not to an extreme. After eleven years in prison he is back, but he still cannot break free from the clutches of his past. He is now working as a spice, and weapons smuggler. Hopefully he can find a way to start anew?



Firt post to follow..soon.

 

OCC: Forgive the double post.

IC: Norbert Penwig
Location: Nar shadda. South End Bar.

Norbert viewed the holo-screen once more, checking more thoroughly for any of the key words that he had received on the rumpled slip of paper. It had been three days since the man had come to Norbert. The figure had worn a ruffled nondescript uniform. He had been?nondescript to say the least, and yet to say the most. The man who had delivered the key words list had been the perfect currier. No one, except for his own mother, and maybe not even her, could recognize the man.

After staring into the table-top screen for a few more minutes Norbert decided to order another drink.

?Something strong.? He said to the barkeep. Norbert sat down at the bar after ordering and tried to sort out his thoughts while waiting for his drink to be served.

Why would they have not posted the package yet? You know old boy, they could be trapping you again.

No! No. this deal is too locked down, they cant be trying to trap me. If they were trying to get me, they would have already done so when the currier came to me. That would have been the perfect time.

No one would have to produce anything, and I would still have been guilty of a crime.

?Death on deck!? The barkeep yelled as he slid the drink down the bar to the end that Norbert was seated. The sudden yell had made Norbert jump, and move instinctively towards his weapons. The fact that the barkeep had said the word "death" did'nt help much either.

You need to calm down Norbert. You?re going to get shot, or worse if you stay jumpy.

I do not need to calm down! There is good reason for being on edge,especially considering what part of Nar Shadda this is.

You need to realize the gravity of the situation soon Norbert, or you going to end up dead.

Idiot.

Norbert?s thoughts had a way of arguing with him. He had developed it early on in life. It seemed as though he could argue two sides of a conflict with equal intensity, but never really come to a definite conclusion as to which side was correct. This had caused problems in the past, big problems.

Norbert tried to push the argument out of his head. He concentrated on his drink, and the job ahead. He had signed up to haul a load of spice from Nar Shadda to various distribution hubs in the galaxy. It would be a long run, but in the end the payment of Five-hundred-thousand credits would be more than enough for him to lose his past, provided he could pull the run off with out being killed, or arrested?again.

Now all that was left for him was to wait for the instructions to be posted on the holo-net, the instructions would be coded of course, but that?s what the nondescript currier had delivered to him: a list of key words and instructions on how to decode the package once he found it.

While he waited and watched for any signs of police activity, he enjoyed the sharp taste of his drink.

Then something changed, the atmosphere of the room seemed to change in an instant, from a benign scene to a tense one. Norbert tried to see what had caused the change in the room, something had to have. He scanned the faces in the bar. Nothing had changed. Nothing.

Calm down. He told himself. Norbert was too on edge to be out in public he decided. He needed to get back to his apartment. Which was in the Lower South End of Nar Shadda only a few minutes walk from the bar.

As he started out the barkeep asked if he was going to pay for his drink. He had neglected to pay the man. Norbert dug through his pockets looking for the five credits he needed. It took a few second, but he found the money. He paid the barkeep, and started for the door. Anxiety was building, he would have to walk home in the darkened streets. Which could prove fatal in Nar Shadda, if one did not know how to blend.

TAG: Myself.

 

OOC: Evening, all ... I thought I'd try and get it at the (sorta) ground floor ... please bear with me, this is my first time in a WOTG game ...

Class: Noble
Name: Baradimus Cay
Gender: Male
Age: 49
Species: Human
Homeworld: Coruscant
Spoken Language: Basic
Other Languages: A smattering of primitive trade languages.

Appearance
---Height: 6'6"
---Eye Color: Blue
---Hair/Fur Color: Salt-and-pepper
---Skin Color: Faded brown tan
---Clothing: The finery of a black Coruscanti business suit trimmed with silver (basically a business suit with a 'battle apron' trailing it)
---Other: Walks with a silver-headed cane. He has a limp in his left leg thanks to a cave-in on Commenor twenty years ago.

Personality: Measured, ironic, calculating
Habits: Tends to twirl his cane in his hands when thinking.
Likes: A game of four-dimensional chess; profit; a good Alderaanian wine; deep space
Dislikes: Small spaces; open water.
Talents: Brilliant at applied mathematics and commerce.
Weakness: No knowledge of hand-to-hand combat or commanding ground troops.
Limitations: Physical limitation as set out above
Racial Attributes: None specific; stock standard human.

Affiliation: Empire
---Rank: Merchant Lord
---Branch: Economic Directorate
---Station: Coruscant
---Position: Commander in Chief, Directorate
---Primary Weapons: A small sporting blaster.

Personal Ship
---Name: Starforged Gem
---Model: Baudo-class star yacht
---Accessories: Six-man pleasure vessel with decent amenities for a luxury traveller. Has HoloNet connection and subspace feeds to most galactic markets.

The Force: Not at this point. Reserving option to develop later.

Background:
Baradimus Cay was a brilliant student of the Old Republic theory of economics, and grew up just as the Jedi Purge was conducted and the Empire rose. His family was poor, from the underlevels of Coruscant, but his sheer intellect for numbers drew the attention of even the overworked teachers of that planet. He was moved through one advanced math course after another and was recommended, at 15, for the Imperial Advanced Research School of Physics.

It was at this stage he had the insight that would change the course of his life: the insight that ultimately cooperative and group action assures the greatest chance of economic success. This insight drew his interest to economics and commerce, and he turned aside from physics to study this vein of knowledge. In this his intellect was even more formidable once he got into the "real world" of buying and selling. Having said that the many years as a mathematics student did leave him with a certain lack of social nous.

After leaving the Imperial Economics Schools, he travelled for some time on profits from the stocks and bonds he had traded over his earlier life, getting a greater feel for galactic economics in the trenches, starting and watching one or two businesses fail. However, his commodities trading business succeeded, and rapidly grew during the course of the Empire and its massive construction efforts.

He was left somewhat at sea by the death of first the Emperor and then Darth Vader, but worked his way back to the Empire and now stands ready to assist the present Emperor achieve economic as well as military superiority...

---

[b]IC - Baradimus Cay[/b]

[i]Imperial Audience Chambers
Imperial Palace, Coruscant[/i]

They kept him waiting outside the Audience Chambers for a good twenty minutes or so. During that time, all [b]Cay[/b] did was sit quietly in the plush chair provided and gaze at the floor patterning. The wait, of course, was the primitive posturing of the aides who surrounded the Emperor; that was their way of showing they had power over even the greatest in society. It was thinking like that which had led to the present position, but [b]Cay[/b] chose not to dwell on it. What mattered was the future.
If they had one.

Eventually the aide with the bulbuous growth on his nose walked over to him. "The Emperor will se

 

IMPORTANT NOTICE: Everyone, I may not be able to post quite as frequently as I'd like. The reason for this is simply this: my wife's waters broke at 3 a.m. on Saturday morning. The problem is that she's only 27 weeks pregnant, could go into labor at any time, and has been hospitalised as a result -- since the baby hasn't finished growing at this stage and there is a very great danger of permanent damage if there's an infection of any kind. My son or daughter (I don't know which yet) will, if born ahead of time, have to stay in hospital for the better part of the next three months. Both the pregnancy and my child's life will literally be a day-to-day prospect. As such my head's probably not going to be in the best space over the next three months, but I do promise to keep up with this (I'm chewing up Valuable Work Resources to be RPGing in any event. ) In the meantime, can I ask people to please have patience and keep us in your prayers. As at this morning, mother and baby are both doing okay.

 

IC - Baradimus Cay

Imperial Throne Room,
Imperial Palace, Imperial Center

Cay wasn't quite so socially deaf as to miss the mailed fist behind the velvet glove of the Emperor's words, even wincing from the leg pain. The pain from his leg passed, and he straightened, regarding the Emperor coolly. Inside, though, he was pleased; this Emperor didn't seem either a fool or an oaf, and he had at least agreed to hear Cay out.
"That," he said, in answer to the Emperor's question, "would take approximately twelve days and reference to at least three hundred charts that have been presented to Your Majesty over the period of your rule. Somewhat lacking that time, Your Majesty, I will attempt to summarise."

Cay waved his cane in the direction of one of the (guarded) windows, and the expanse of Coruscant beyond. "Your Majesty will doubtless be aware of the historical factors which catalysed the formation of the Imperium: a choking rise in bureaucracy; the inefficiency of the Senate conceptually or practically to control the problem; and the dissatisfaction of large sectors of the corporate guilds with taxation of the Outer Rim trade routes in particular. Of course, the spark that ignited it was the Trade Federation's decision to force the issue by blockading Naboo."

Cay leaned back on his cane, turning to face Iaius once more. "We have seen a good thirty years pass since then, each year marked by an increasing military budget and focusing of trade within those supercorporations that remained loyal to the Republic, and subsequently His Former Imperial Majesty's reign. The Jedi rebellion also necessitated increased spending; whatever else one might say about them, they did have a positive public order effect on tense situations--an effect that had to be replicated by increased security force numbers. And of course, devising methods to deal with Force-trained warriors also necessitated a level of governmental capital expense which was not seen under the Republic."

The financier shifted his weight slightly. "Now, the breadth and complexity of the Imperium's economy certainly would allow for considerable military spending, and there were, at a guess, some two thousand years' worth of tax credits in Republic coffers when Your Majesty's predecessor took the reigns, so to speak--a cash reserve so large it enabled the Republic to purchase an entire army, made up of expensive clone technology, in a matter of weeks. If that was not staggering enough, consider this: that same cash reserve has funded every major military purchase made by the Imperium over the past thirty years. Including, I might add, the two planet-sized weapons that your predecessor constructed. But I'll come back to them. For the moment, in very simplistic terms, the Imperium's spending money comes from two principal sources. One is the tax credits your agents collect from the various worlds and organisations within the Imperium. The other is the interest which accrues off the cash reserve your predecessor inherited from the Republic. And I might say under normal conditions the interest is substantial; enough to replace every building on Coruscant is generated in the course of a standard galactic day."

Cay put both hands on the silver head of his cane. "How you have been misled, Your Majesty, is actually straightforward. Your economic advisers have two unfortunate features to them. One is that they were delegated the discretion by Your Majesty's predecessor to increase taxation rates on individual planets as required, without His Former Imperial Majesty's say-so. I realise it seems incredible, but with all due respect Emperor Palpatine was a much-gifted student of human nature--not of economics. The second unfortunate feature your economic advisers have is that they are permitted, pursuant to your predecessor's policies of simplification, to blend together the taxes collected by your Imperium with the interest accruing on the cash reserve that the Empire inherited from the Republic. Again, I do not mean criticism of

 

Drako Voss & Darth Stygius

Drakonian Liar - Undercity, Taris

"You are a rather ugly fellow," a deep-set Tarisian voice said through the veil of darkness that swam around the Sith Lord's throbbing mind. He grasped at the voice with what little strength he had left, using it as a lifeline, keeping himself afloat above the lurking sea of blackness. "Ah, your awake after all."

His drooped head was raised by something cold and metallic and the Sith's fiery, yellow eyes snapped open to see who dared speak to him in such a way. A heavyset and balding man stood before him in elegantly expensive clothing cut to Coruscanti standards. He could see some armor plates carefully woven into the clothing so that it did not disrupt the pleasing appeal of the man's taste in fashion.

The metal that had touched his chin now moved to his left cheek and pushed his face to the side before it switched and pushed his face the other way. "Never seen so many scars on a man before, then again your eyes certainly are not human." A snarl escaped the Sith Lord's pale lips and he was smartly rewarded with a slap of what was now obviously a silver-smithed tipped cane.

"We'll have none of that now, my little Dark Jedi," the bald man sneered and stepped back from his chained prisoner. Someone else stepped forward, a Gand, and began to adjust something around the Sith Lord's head. "Is his mind scrambled?" The Gand answered in his language an affirmative and explained that the Dark Jedi would not be able to concentrate long enough to summon his magics.

"Good."

That explains the headache, the Sith thought and began lashing out against what he now understood was a neural dampener. But like the Gand said, he would not be able to concentrate long enough to summon the Force. Silently he submitted to his predictament for the time being and observed his surroundings.

He saw that he was in a bare chamber with him located in the center of it. He was held by some kind of energy binders attached to the floor and ceiling that left him standing spread eagled. His cloak and top robes were missing as were his bracers and he began to notice that the Darkside was not emitting from him like it normally did when he did not have those bracers.

The through frightened him. For so long he had gotten use to being the embodiment of the Darkside and without its comforting familiarity he felt suddenly naked and vulnerable like a new born child. How this arrogant gangster leader was able to suppress his curse he did not know. Then again he could not even remember how this man was able to capture him. All he remembered was standing in front of his lightsabers and was about to take them when something had happened.

Then there was blackness and he found himself here a prisoner.

"What do you want?" he croaked through a parched throat and cracked lips.

"What do I want?" the gangster said. "I want you dead of course. But you will be useful before you die. There is a rather high bounty out for anyone who uses the Force, trained or not. Though you seemed to be rather quite untrained, like some mangy pup who just found a new trick and is trying to learn it."

Stygius snarled and yanked against the energy binders in an attempt to get to the Tarisian. The man laughed heartily at the Sith Lord's pitiful struggle before walking away, leaving him alone with himself and the company of only himself. The Sith Lord relaxed and allowed himself to hang by his arms as he attempted to concentrate again on removing the affects of the neural dampener. He was rather surprised that the man relied on such a very unreliable piece of technology.

Did he not know that Jedi and Sith could easily overcome such devices given enough time? If he didn't, the man was certainly going to learn soon enough.

With a determined sigh, the Sith Lord closed his bleached eyelids and focused on the task at hand. The headache was not helping much and neither was the distracting hum of the energy binders. But despite all of the distractions and miser

 

GM/Co-Gm approved
Name: Raydena Hawkin
Gender: Female
Age: 17
Homeplanet: Hoth
Race: Human/ twilik
Affiliation: Jedi
Personality:
Appearance:
---Skin Color: Blueish White
---Hair Color: Silver
---Eye Color: Crystal Blue
---Clothing: Wears White Jedi Robes with a amber
Lightsaber Handle- Slightly Curved Double Bladed
Lightsaber Blade- Silver and Light Orange
Lightsaber Crystals- A rare Ice Gem from Hoth and a Solari

Biography: She was born into a small nomadic people but when a jedi master crash landed on Hoth they healed and nursed him back to health. As the years pasted he learned that Raydena was strong in the force but lacked training. At the age of 5 she was finally welcomed into the jedi acadamy

 

OOC: Is this one still going??

 

Yes. Its a free-form RPG, meaning there is no GM guidance. The GM merely observes and makes sure the players abide by the rules of the game and TOS. And you need to redo your character sheet. Read the first post before you do though, so you know when and what the setting of this game is. And use the sheet that is provided too.

 

IC: Norbert Penwig.
Location: Nar Shadda

Once outside the bar Norbert started off on the gloomy streets of the South End. He knew that the jaunt would take only ten or so standard minutes, those minutes could take hours if he was not careful. But Norbert Penwig was always careful. Or more he hoped that he was careful enough that he did not make a large mistake and get killed, or worse (In his mind.) arrested and sent back to prison.

As he reached the first bend in the street he took in the scenery, grey buildings with no features other than doors like mouths that allowed people to enter their bellies like nutrient bars. Red light filtering through an opaque window. Shadows passing in and out of alleyways just on the edge of his perception. The street with its cold, calculating pavement, ice cold pavement. Grey. Grey was all that he saw around him. When he rounded the corner he saw the apartment building where he lived it was a welcome sight to him. He felt terrible. The booze was usually the cause of that kind of terrible feeling.

Once he arrived at his door, he slipped the keycard into the reader, and waited for access to be granted. The lock slid open in its usual fashion, he opened the door, with its plasteel hinges that squeaked when they reached the half way open point. He stumbled his way to his couch, cursing the whole way because he had hit his knee on a small table in the middle of the room, once he had found the couch he collapsed.

Sleep. It came easily thanks to the booze, but he still had a slight sense of foreboding about the job as he felt the darkness take him over like the seas of some ocean planet.

Tag: No one.

 

Deep within Yuuzhan Vong-controlled Space

With no recent communication from the Upper Echelon of Yuuzhan Vong command, no word of even the Supreme Overlord himself, J'aac Domain Halikron marched onto the yellow-spattered bridge of the Solus Altissima. Bridge-servants and soldiers all turned to regard their supreme commander, displaying his raw devotion to the gods in only the finery they had granted him at birth. J'aac wore only a crimson loincloth adorned to his waist, bare legged and chested, displaying his scars and tattoos in all their vicious and terrible glory.

The other members and servants of the bridge staff continued staring at their commander with enrapt attention, while he drew his coufee and began hollowing out the sunken cheek-scar on his jawbone. Blood began to freely flow down his face and dripped onto his collar bone as he stared out the lambent viewportal, gazing upon the other yorik coral vessels as they came into position.

"Rally the Halikron battle group," J'aac, chieftain of Halikron, announced, thrusting his bloodied coufee into the air, and pumping his arm violently. The gesture splashed any nearby with the crimson life-fluid of their commander, blessing them with his essence. His muscles were swollen by their flex, monstrous in nature and reality, as he pointed forward. "For tomorrow the infidels shall lay in puddles of their own blood, living as they yet die, beneath the violent gaze of glorious Yun-Yammka!"

TAG: Why, myself of course.

Caen Palace, Talya, Toprawa

Gliding the Earthshatter to a graceful peace atop the only landing pad on the western wing of Caen Palace in the capitol city of Talya, Prince Jace Halycron descended the ramp dressed in his most-royal finery. His legs were of the deepest winter, white as the snow, his tunic of emerald adorned with golden embroidery at the hems, as well as the stark epaullets at the apex of his shoulders. A ceremonial saber fell from his left hip, responding to his sway and steps with its own characteristic swagger, matching the wearer movement for movement.
A woman dressed likewise approached the Toprawan royal and presented herself. Yes, Jace recognized this woman...
Annissya d'Tana had become his closest confident and chamberlain, both advisor and often-times lover. She knew as he did that their relationship could be neither public nor was it appropriate, but they made do with twilight trysts from his off-palace apartment or hers, but never within the Stateroom of the High Prince of Toprawa.
"Welcome back, Majesty," Annissya demured lightly, touching his arm just so.
"It is good to be home, back among friends..." Jace trailed off, before catching her eye and holding her hand against his arm so she could not pull it away.

TAG: why, me again!

You put your left foot in, you take your left foot out, you put your left foot in and you shake it all about...

You do the hokey pokey, and that's what it's all about! Yay!

 

OOC: Tremble, Infidels.

_____________________________________________________


Class: Soldier
Name: Fhuver Domain Vil
Gender: M
Age: 33 Galactic Standard Years
Species: Yuuzhan Vong
Homeworld: Worldship Bolnar Trasis
Spoken Language: Yuuzhan Vong, tizowyrm-assisted basic.


Appearance
---Height: 6ft
---Eye Color: Grey/Gold
---Hair/Fur Color: Black, mostly bald
---Skin Color: light green to dark olive. Sickly by human standard.
---Clothing: Crimson-tinged Vonduun-Crab Armour.
---Other: Intricate facial tatooing, including Yun-Yammka whorl on left cheek. Frayed lips and denuded nose a speciality.

Personality: Virtually unchecked bloodlust.
Habits: Murder, Genocide, self-flagelation, the usual.
Likes: Destroying things.
Dislikes: Refraining from destroying things.
Talents: Amphistaff combat, small fleet tactics, torture.
Weakness: Aversion to infidel world, culture and technology. Infidel Grain Liquor.
Limitations: Non-Force User
Racial Attributes: Pain tolerance/addiction; dedicated to his faith, intuitive knack for war.


Affiliation: Yuuzhan Vong
---Rank: TBA
---Branch: Navy
---Station: TBA
---Unit: TBA
---Position: TBA
---Primary Weapons: Amphistaff, blorash jelly, the usual toys.
Personal Ship (optional)
---Name: the Blood-letting
---Model: Matalok cruiser
---Accessories: Embrace of pain, fully stocked kitchen, plasma cannons etc.
The Force: (optional)
---Yes or No?: Heresy!
---Affiliation:
---Title:
---Force Abilities:
---Force Weakness:
---Lightsaber Type:
---Blade Color:
---# of Lightsabers:
---Other:

Background:
Schooled by the great Czulkang Lah, Fhuver Vil's cunning and grasp of command were greatly developed, helping to balance out an adherence to his faith and unbridled bloodlust that initially drew snide comparisions to Domain Shai by unwitting Intendant caste members. The swift but gory end to these individuals is probably inflated in its retelling, yet does no disservice in creating a fast-growing mystique and respect for one of Yun Yammka's most loyal children.
Promoted to his own command Fhuver Vil is eager to take part in the spear tip of the Yuuzhan Vong's thrust into the infidel galaxy. Thriving on independence in battle but eagerly loyal to the Warmaster, Fhuver Vil is a name destined to strike terror into the hearts and minds of the galaxy's inhabitants: and death or submission soon thereafter.


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OOC: I return, infidel scum.
This time, Coruscant WILL fall.