They say that when Alderaan died 200 years ago that was the first time anyone alive had felt such a great disturbance in the force; that even the wisest struggled to understand what had happened. That was when a planet dying meant something, the days where names like Skywalker and Palpatine belonged to living people, instead of sitting alongside figures like Revan and Exar Kun in the domain of ill-remembered stories and legends. Now the galaxy has seen the Great War, the first war fought where all sides had mass produced superweapons with firepower once reserved for the Death Star or Starkiller Base. The opening salvo killed more people than the Clone Wars, the Galactic Civil War and the First Order/Resistance Conflict combined. Anyone who could listen said that it sounded like the force itself was screaming as countless worlds died and over half the galactic population perished. The intense fires of conflict became smoldering embers once the stockpiles were exhausted and what remained of the governments and industries that had built the superweapons lay shattered into a thousand pieces. The core worlds are all but gone, the inner rim is just as devastated, and what passes for civilization is scattered among the outer reaches of the galaxy. Even landscapes as hostile as the deserts of Tatooine and the icy wastes of Hoth are sought after in this era; many of the most recent generations have no home world, living a nomadic existence amid a fleet of ships and never even breathing the air of a real atmosphere.
Now the galaxy is dotted with warlords and bandits, commanding whatever forces they have and trying to carve their own slice of territory. They give their forces grandiose titles, there is no shortage of new empires, republics, orders, federations, but whatever they call themselves or whatever great heritage or ideology they claim means little. In the same manner Jedi and Sith have become empty words, adopted by any thug or mystical charlatan with a lightsaber and some half remembered teachings; a thousand disparate traditions clinging to old ideals. Few have time to think beyond the hardships of everyday life. To the those that open their mind to the force and listen to it, they hear something new amongst the ruins, something that has replaced the terror from the height of the war. They feel it growing weaker, straining more and more, and calling to them only for it to fade each time; as though the force itself is dying, and no one knows why.
This will be a Star Wars RP taking place long after the Sequel Trilogy, many years past established canon. I'm aiming for a mix of a dark,er post apocalyptic feel, typical star wars action and adventure, and hopefully some philosophical introspection about what the force is and what it means to individuals. shaking up the setting quite a bit. At the start of the RP the players will be on a ship in a refugee fleet, all have their own reasons for being there, and will find themselves thrown together to survive, leading to a galaxy spanning adventure. More details of the lore will be fleshed out as we go on.
Canon Policy Disney Canon and Legends are both welcome and encouraged. Disney Canon takes precedence over Legends in the case of a conflict between them. Events between the Sequel Trilogy and the current time in the RP have been left vague intentionally to allow for the ability for players to fill in the details.
179 Years After the Battle of Yavin: Things weren’t going well before the war. History is spotty, but something called the “Imperial Republic” was nominally in charge, and they had made a lot of enemies. They were fighting small conflicts for years, but in 179 ABY a coalition had formed, one that spanned the whole galaxy and had enough firepower to pose a serious challenge, including their own stockpile of superweapons with planet destroying power. Negotiations break down quickly when the coalition presents its demands and no compromise can be found, despite the efforts of the Jedi to find a peaceful solution. Every source seems to have a different idea of who was worse between the two sides, but both of them quickly decided to prepare for war. The last few rounds of negotiations were just stalling tactics meant to buy time for more war planning.
180 ABY: The bloodiest year in galactic history. The Great War begins with a series of explosive offensive maneuvers by both sides, employing superweapons to break through hard targets. This quickly leads to escalation, where each side adopting a scorched earth policy, opting to immediately destroy enemy worlds rather than lose precious time attempting slower tactics like sieges, bombardment, or ground invasion. Coruscant, Corellia, Kuat, and all of the other most prominent population and economic centers of the core worlds are destroyed. Force users begin to feel something called that will later be called the Cacophony, driving many mad or away from the force.
182 ABY: Command structures for all sides completely break down; there is effectively no more civilian government to direct the military efforts. Holonet has ceases to function, and communication across the galaxy is severed. Countless records and valuable knowledge are lost during the destruction. After two years of fighting the galactic core is a desolate region, virtually every target of value destroyed. Fighting moves on to the inner rim and the colonies. Officers no longer look at maps of what territory their forces control, only what enemy targets are not destroyed. All large scale organization amongst both Jedi and Sith has collapsed from losses in war and the on effects of the Cacophony. Many splinter sects are formed, as the forces upholding rigid doctrine and preventing heresy are no longer present and apocryphal stories mix with what remains of holy scripture. These new groups have no shortage of adherents, finding many among those looking to understand all the tragedy around them.
185 ABY: Desertions and splintering becomes have become rampant on all sides, as old loyalties mean little and commanders begin to use their forces to carve out their own empires and win their own fortunes. Hyperspace travel is tougher as the busiest trade routes are the scene of intense fighting, and many planets along them are also targeted. The Inner Rim is now looking as empty as the core worlds, and the center of the fighting spills into the expansion region and the mid rim. With few dense population centers left, any world with a temperate climate, significant industry, or a good location on a trade route is now a prime target.
190 ABY: The year of the last recorded planet destructions. All known superlaser equipped vessels have been destroyed, and the all stockpiles of Baradium Fission, Resonance, and Particle Disintegration warheads have been exhausted after years of fighting. The vast mining operations and factory worlds that allowed the weapons to be built in the first place now lie in ruins. Life signs are rare in the Core and Inner Rim. Warlords and refugees alike begin to focus on the Outer Rim, where fighting has been more limited in scope. The Cacophony has stopped, leading to an eerie period of calm in the force.
192 ABY: Refugees remain rampant, with few habitable worlds left; they form massive fleets, making their endless journey from system to system in search of a home. They are easy prey for any warlord or criminal organization that needs disposable manpower. First rumors begin to circulate about a group known as the Nameless Fleet, based in the unknown regions with occasional incursions into the rest of the galaxy. All reported encounters with them are hostile, and few survive. Astute force users start to notice a change in the force, a feeling of weakness and uncertainty that was not there before. It’s little discussed; out of the dozens of traditions and interpretations almost none know how to explain it. The wisest among them talk about in hushed tones, as they feel that something is wrong with the force itself.
194 ABY: The Hutts establish an agreement that ends virtually all large scale conflicts inside their space, facilitated through an elaborate system of tributes and taxation. All except those at the very top must pay, and Hutt Space becomes the Galaxy’s greatest marketplace for goods, whether benign or morally dubious. Crime and the slave trade are commonplace, but war stays at its borders.
200 ABY: Current Year. Reported sightings of the Nameless Fleet grow more frequent in Galactic South, some even report losing entire star systems to them. Little other details are available. A confederation of warlords in the Galactic North signs the Dubrillon Accords, establishing a tentative system to choose a ruler among them. Whether this establishes any lasting peace is yet to be seen. The Galactic South remains as chaotic as ever. The strange feeling of the force has only grown since eight years ago, and now even less experienced force users have begun to feel the weakness. No one has been able to prove their theory on its meaning, but more and more people fear that the force itself may fade away.
Credit to reddit.com/user/_DarthSyphilis_ for the map. Please note: A planet is listed does not mean intact. Many of the locations on this map are destroyed
The core of the galaxy is easy to get lost in. Some scavengers try to look for treasure here, and pirate pick off many who do, but aside from that there is little traffic here. Even those looking make a shortcut on trade runs stay out of here unless they are extremely brave or foolish.
The Unknown Regions are just as mysterious as they have always been. The war has seen more fleeing into them; oftentimes vanishing without a trace in the uncharted depths. The Nameless Fleet is theorized to use somewhere in this area as their base of operations.
Forces fighting in the Galactic North had less desertion issues in the war, and even to this day the region is less fragmented. Dozens of small-time dictators and warlords still run this place, but they tend to prefer larger and more formal alliances as opposed to the utter chaos of the South. There’s still war, and horrifically huge battles, but recent events like the Dubrillon Accords and the buffer zone between them and Hutt Space may be the first steps in rebuilding some kind of order.
The Hutts control the Galactic East, although control is a loose term. In their case, it means that they collect a portion of the proceeds of the commerce and can pay people to keep them in power, actual governance is left to individual gangs and pirate fleets who hold territory. Due to the Hutts negotiations during the war this region was spared from the worst of the fighting and as a result boasts some of the best remaining infrastructure and has become the hub of galactic trade. All of the boasting about Nar Shadaa’s skyline hasn’t washed away the questionable reputation of the region; a popular saying around Hutt Space is that nothing is illegal as long as you’re paying enough money to the right people. Beside them is the DMZ, a buffer zone built up to establish a definitive border with the north, and run by some of the most fearsome mercenaries in the galaxy. They lack numbers but the pay attracts the most experienced, it’s a badge of honor to serve with them. Whether this will be enough to prevent aggressive incursions from a larger force is yet to be seen.
The Galactic South had the richest trade routes in the outer rim before the war, perhaps that’s why it ended up seeing so much fighting and so many chose to flee to it. This is still the most chaotic region, alliances and territory shift on a daily basis as everyone with ambition tries to seize whatever space or riches they can. It’s hard to even get a sense of the whole region; whatever can’t be confirmed first hand is the domain of rumors and wild propaganda. The one thing it offers is hope to the daring, if someone dreams of commanding their own fleet or finally finding a safe haven forgotten by the rest of the galaxy, the south is the best place for them.
Rules
1. Be kind to everyone. If you have a dispute, work it out in a civil way. 2. Respect the bounds of the RP. Remember the general rules about not godmoding, controlling others characters, making characters that are overpowered/setting breaking, or contradicting what’s been established for RP. There’s plenty of room to work with others and incorporate ideas, just try to talk it through first. 3. Be part of a group. Try to work with people to make the RP happen, give people the opportunity to decide where the plot goes. Also, if you end up leaving the RP, it's all fine, just let us know if you can.
Nice ideas, I’m pretty keen. This seems pretty cool and a good way to exercise my writing. I had already worked on a Star Wars character before I swiftly left this aight some years ago. I got a little excerpt here showing a little insight to the character I’ll cook up for the RP. I think he’s fit in this post-apocalyptic type RP. Hopefully I’ll get a sheet out soon:)
Mother Dune did not make a loving mother and her children were vindictive and fiercely independent. Ghorfa do not kneel. They did not kneel to the Builders of old, resisting until the heavens split and Mother Dune wrapped all the gardens under her sand. They did not kneel to the outsiders, creators of civilisation which hunted their people like rats. They did not kneel to the Dune Sea, her waves swallowing whole villages. They did not even kneel to the Demon of the Sand with its glowing shrashkka, a vengeful ghost kept at bay by their sacrifices and totems in a now desolate village. It would take much for a single Ghorfa to kneel, much less its whole species.
But for when the sky split open and villages are razed. When water holes long revered by the sand dwellers be emptied. When their precious Uli-ah are taken away by monsters before they can even marry. That is when things change. When the tale begins anew, the creation of a chapter unforeseen by the Storytellers. Tribal chieftains, wizened shamans, raid-party leaders and the greatest story-tellers gathered in the empty cave of a hunted Krayt Dragon. Tensions were high, talons gripping rifles and gaderfii tightly. The Dune Mother let its whispers caress the fires of each group, carrying the tension around. Masseffi howled and barked at rivals, unbothered banthas tended to by jumpy riders. Only the shamans and the oldest storytellers sat calmly amongst the greatest gathering of this nomadic people.
In a rough circle around a small fire, light and shadow licking the tall walls of the cavern, sat the leaders of the Ghorfa. Urr’argh Ak-Shaffi sat among them, calmly shifting his rebreather to sit more comfortably on his face. The movement alerted most of the room, nervous glances and scowls passed each denizen of the circle. They had sat there for six hours now, ever since the Wanderer had stated his terms. If the situation was not so dire, they would have been killing each other for past insults and greed. The desperation was clear to all in attendance.
“We must unite.” Urr’argh stated again, as if recounting a proverb from the old tales.
More nervous glances broke out, small shifts and fidgets. To speak among strangers who could understand you is to show weakness. That is why many Ghorfa would neglect to speak the language of the outsiders, though they knew how to. The Ghorfa way was as isolationist as it was nomadic. Speaking their guttural tongue to people outside of your clan was taboo. Despite sharing the same cloth, the same blood, the same Mother, the peoples were still split by culture.
A shaman two persons across from him raised his chin. A challenge to his statement. Two chieftains followed promptly. An alliance perhaps? Who knew the Ghorfa could ally themselves even without his guiding hand. Urr’argh mused under their gazes.
“We have no choice. They are slaughtering us. Extinction follows. These are not ghosts of the Dune Sea. She is not responsible. These are not the Builders come again. Those devils are not responsible. These are outsiders. They pose a problem. You must kneel to me. I am the strongest.”
Hacking coughs of protest came from others of the circle. A raid leader stood, gaderfii held accusingly at Urr’argh. A visible show of defiance against his wisdom. Those broad shoulders shook in rage, the cloth coverings upon his head trembled. This was an insult of the highest order. A Ghorfa did not point at another Ghorfa with a sacred gaderfii unless they challenged something utterly wrong to them. In credit to the Wanderer, he merely pointed his chin forwardand flexed neck muscles, throat bobbing through the skin-tight cloth. A calming gesture, one of peace. Of surety. For one has to be sure of his own strength to expose his throat to the pointed end of a gaderfii.
Such calm assertiveness silenced the hacking coughs. The shaman lowered his chin and the two subordinates followed quickly after. The raid leader still stood, knees tensed and grip tightening. His raiders, cloths painted red from the blood of outsiders, were as tense as their leader, eyes shifting at the shadows looking for unseen enemies.
Urr’argh cracked his neck, bending it to an obscene angle for a human. The sound echoed in the cavern. A calm threat of violence, opposing the insubordination of the raid leader. The raid leader reluctantly sat back down, chin downwards in submission. An almost imperceptible nod came from the Wanderer, an act of acceptance. He looked back at the group.
“I was cast out of my clan, a storyteller surpassed by another, as is the way. I was ready to be eaten by the Dune Sea. To wander aimlessly with the Mother. I was instead taken from her grasp, from her nature by these outsiders.” The word was spat out, phlegm impacting against the inner world of the rebreather. The younger ones flinched. Inner Water was as sacred as the Outer Water. Such disregard must contain great hate.
Urr’argh continued with the green mucus dripping through a crack in his rebreather. “I am Wanderer for I have walked where no Ghorfa has walked before. Aside from our kurantt brothers and sisters, who have shed their old ways for that of the Ghorfa, none of our people have reached the stars. I was kept as pet, slave to the outsiders, trained in their inferior ways of raiding. I was taught their common tongue, told our tongue was primitive.”
The denizens of the circle sneered as he did, throwing sand into the air in protest. The Wanderer nodded in ascent. “They enslaved me to their ways. They do not have kurantt, they forced the terms of brotherhood upon me. But through this, I learned of the enemy. I learned their tales, their stories. I befriended them, as much a Ghorfa could pretend to befriend outsiders. I learned of the Great Beyond, of wars eternal, bloodshed greater than any Ghorfa has seen.”
“I wandered among the stars, beyond the struggling brothers and learned this all. I know more than any Ghorfa here has or ever will. I boast of killing green monsters, ten of whom could kill a krayt dragon with their fists! I boast of killing a shaman with glowing shrashkka, like the Demon of the Sands! I boast of conquering a metal beast, green fire spewing forth from its metal skin!” Urr’argh has stood, towering over the masses in passion. His shadow crept upwards into the upper darkness of the cavern, fingers drumming at his side with excitement.
“I boast, standing before you elders. Leaders of the Ghorfa. I come before you as the strongest. Against these raiders of the stars, only I am worthy as leader of our people. I know them, I have been with them, walked among them. I know how to defeat them.” Urr’argh bent down, grasping his customised cycler rifle and slammed its butt into the rocky ground. A challenge to authority. To not challenge it is to submit. He stood rigidly, weight shifted forward.
The first dissenter emerged from his left, lunging from the ground with a short, sharp shrashkka in hand. The Wanderer raised his strangely short cycler rifle one handed, cranking the lever mechanism while doing so. Grasping the rifle’s wooden barrel steadily, he fired point blank into the dissenter. A gaping hole appeared at their centre, the man crumpling to the ground.
Spurred on by the action, several other dissenters stood weapons in hand, silently running at the Wanderer. He swiftly placed a round through each Ghorfa, talons cranking the lever action with practised ease. As the last body fell, the sand shifted behind him.
Urr’argh twirled, the butt of his long rifle extended. He blocked the swing from an incoming gaderfii, ornate wood standing strong against scrap metal. He pushed, staggering his opponent backwards before punching a round through their head. Blood splattered on to the cavern wall.
Urr’argh turned, slamming the butt of his rifle on the ground. The sounds of the dying permeated in the silence afterwards, as if spread by the uncaring Mother. The others glances at each other, looking for other dissenters. The shamans rose and knelt, chins lowered in submission. Others followed swiftly after until all knelt before him. Before the crack of dawn, before the struggling brothers stood over the Mother, he was named Chieftain of the Dune Sea. And so the war began in truth.
The Tatooine Wars or the Freedom Wars as the Tusken held them, were a series of heated battles between several slaver parties and the tribes of Tusken Raiders on Tatooine. The locals of Bespin had long grown tired of the constant raids by the nomadic species of Tatooine. With the Massacre of the Farms of 186 ABY and the ever growing number of refugees to Tatooine, food supplies were running scarce. Violence and anarchy, already ever present on the desert world, threatened to spill over even the smallest bit of grain.
The eyes of the desperate turned towards the Tusken, a nomadic, primitive people which lived beyond the farms and the protective walls of civilisation. A group of savage specimen, wary of outsiders and fiercely protective of their young. They harassed and killed those they labelled outsiders, taking young children and inducting them into their barbaric lives. Few interacted with them without blaster fire and lived. Those who spoke of a proud, honourable people were dismissed as fools. They saw raiders, thieves, kidnappers and murderers. Unthinking monsters.
The years of shattering wars across the galaxy were favourable upon the children of the Dune Mother. They had raided with impunity, the lack of any real orderly response from the locals allowed them to spread and multiply. The Tusken peoples, or Ghorfa as they would call themselves, thrived in the chaos. No Empire, with Hutts too busy with fortifying their more profitable holdings, they had no authority to answer to. A lawless time awarding a lawless people. Populations thrived.
The locals grew envious. And so, several people of import among the Tatooine populace emerged with a solution. Slaver parties frequented the space around Tatooine, indiscriminate in their taking. As a backwater desert world, Tatooine was often regarded as a poor source of slaves and missed by these bands of slavers. Low population density and thus a lack of any real creds. But the locals, vying for primitive food and riches, green with envy, updated these slavers on the real local population.
More tribes had littered the Dune Sea than ever before, krayt dragon caves emptied out as permanent resting places for a nomadic people. More potential slaves, more potential creds. And thus, striking a deal with the devil, the locals pointed out the migration movements of the Tusken. When the twin suns were hot and high in the sky, they would sit in large tribal encampments hitching primitive tents to defend against the scorching suns.
This is when the slavers would strike, blasting the armed Tusken menfolk while swiftly capturing the women and children in their tents. Such exotic and strange aliens could sell nicely to the odd fetishists of high society. A shock collar can be an efficient tool of submission for even the most prideful. This would continue for months on end. Villages would be razed. Tusken warrior parties returning to the scorched remains of their brothers and the disappearance of their kurantt.
Scattered and separated, the Tusken could not do much. It was as if the Builders had come again, taking away their peoples once more, beyond the grasps of the Dune Mother. One Tusken would rise above the others however. Urr’argh Ak-Shaffi, the Star Wanderer, the Chieftain of the Dunes, the Beyond. In one night, he united the peoples as no other had before.
A storyteller, revered for his wisdom. A wanderer, cast out from the tribes. An outsider, one who has been beyond the grasp of the Dune Mother. An enigmatic, strange example of his primitive species. What a fascinating specimen. He would lead his people against a superior foe with expert knowledge of his foes. He knew how to fight the slaver for he had been the slaver, taken away years before as a pet of a slaving party. Returning to his people through unknown means, he would be revered as a fantastic warrior and great strategist.
Urr’argh wielded the raiding mind of the Tusken and the advanced knowledge of outsiders as his weapons. With zeal, he used poisons, natural chemicals, brutal melee weapons and slugthrowers to bite back against the invaders. Ambushes, feigned retreats, IEDs, artificial sinkholes, spike traps, bantha charges. All were utilised against the slaver enemy. But primitive tactics could not stand against the metal hulls of starships. Technology would win the day. Ambushes would be spotted by advanced scanners, IEDs triggered by unfeeling recon droids, bantha charges laid waste to by concentrated blaster fire.
Every victory was celebrated but every defeat was a crushing loss, a tribe defeated and scattered. Failure was imminent, the bonds of servitude closing itself upon the Tusken people, like their Kumugah predecessors before them. As though the uncaring Dune Mother had left them, Urr’argh would be captured once more during the fiercest battle of the Tatooine Wars.
The slaving of the Tusken people, the greatest war the primitive species had ever seen, would take a mere year. A blip in the annals of history. Another species forgotten among countless others. And Urr’argh, Chieftain of the Dune Sea, the Wanderer, would be cast out once more from the Dune Mother. Into the uncaring, shattered galaxy.
So the OOC is up, so I guess I'll start working on a character. What I had in mind is the son of an Imperial Knight, and order of Jedi who served the Imperial Republic. But since the great destruction happened, he's now without an order, losing his high standing and his purpose.
Forgive my eagerness but my muse cannot be stopped hehe. Here it is ->
Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Hero. Outcast. Failure. Much scorn and praise can be contributed to this Ghorfa. The weight of burden rests heavily upon him. The bonds of servitude are latched upon his people. He must will himself to be strong against his growing desperation. To be the hope his united kurantt deserve. A wandering soul trying to find cause, gather strength, gain power to free his people. Savagery. Brutality. Cunning. All traits must be called upon to save the children of the Dune Mother. He appears churlish, overconfident and rude, many dismissing him as a mere upstart primitive. Beware those who underestimate him, for they will find krayt poison in their food and a bomb in their guarded safe spaces. Death comes for those who stand in the way of the kurantt. In the contrary, those who know him personally know him as honourable, in the Ghorfa sense. He does not lie, he does not hurt the young or frail. Fiercely determined to his cause, there is something to admire in this fierce primitive. Barbarism hides cunning, using the skewed views of the outsider to form a protecting image around him. They think him senseless, dumb, unable to grasp the greater scope of the galaxy. But he is a storyteller, the wisdom of his entire people is branded into his brain. Armed with the annals of history, a greater mind can be created from that of a primitive. One aware of shortcomings and strengths, patiently waiting for the time to strike. He is limited in this great galaxy and he is painfully aware of it.
Notable Skills ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Survivalist: Wasteful children the Dune Mother makes not. This one can utilise expert survival knowledge learned from years in the sands and stars to be self-sufficient from dreaded civilisation. Isolation makes people strong, lest they break under the pressure. Terrorist or Freedom Fighter?: Improvised explosive devices can be made out of wires, overcharged blaster packs and a simple trigger. A spiked fall trap can be hidden under carefully placed tarps and foliage. Ambushes can be set against supply lines or sleeping troops. People can be taken hostage for ransom, better supplies, better guns, to be turned against the oppressor. Torture is a tool wielded expertly to reveal movements of kidnappers and the kidnapped. Primitive gunsmith: The slugthrower is often dismissed by the wider galaxy as loud, inefficient and primitive. Can a regular blaster kill a man 1000 meters away? Can blaster packs contain poisons which drag a man's death out to hours and hours? Can it brutally take a chunk of alien flesh out of its torso, viscera splattering over its comrades? Many have dismissed his rifles and many have thus fallen to them. Primitive chemist: Taught by the shamans of the wastes, he wields a basic understanding of chemicals and poisons to inflict pain unto his enemies. Poisoned slugs, yellow-green gas lethal to sapients without rebreathers, flammable clear liquids which offer a strong drink to pass the time. Rudimentary, limited knowledge but wielded with deadly effectiveness.
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Urr'argh Ak-Shaffi 45 Ghorfa Average
Personal History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Storyteller. Wanderer. Chosen of Beyond Her Grasp. Chieftain of the Dune Sea. This one was once trained by a she-devil, an Ulia-ah deemed different from the others and thus separated, to be trained as a tale weaver. Hour after painstaking hour, he would recite the verbal history of his people. From the time they emerged from the gardens as Kumumgah to when they were struck down to Her Grasp in the sands, changed into the Ghorfa. Failure in his recitation would cause the pain of death upon him. He would take over his predecessor, the she-devil taskmaster taken to wander aimlessly in the Dune Sea, as he will do for his own successor. As is the way. The title of storyteller changes often, for the dunes are cruel as She is cruel. An elder storyteller can spell doom for a tribe, for an early death of a storyteller means a tribe falls to infighting, unworthy of the Ghorfa. He thus taught another young one swiftly after, following in his predecessor's footsteps and cast out into Dune Sea. As is the way. Star Wanderer he became, a Beyond, taken by an outsider as pet and subordinate. Taken beyond Her Grasp, further than the fighting twin brothers in the sky. He learned the ways, the tongues, the civilisation of the outsider. He saw naught but things to look down upon. They fought just as the Ghorfa, were just as greedy and just as cruel. They call him primitive but all he could see was folly, blinded by their arrogance in technology. He would escape when his master turned on his people, as any freethinking Ghorfa should as Her children do not kneel. He would return to Her children scattered from the heights he had seen them before, brought low by an enemy he had years to learn from. Hero they would call him, Chieftain of the Dune Sea. Failure, the outsiders would whisper later on. A primitive terrorist failing his primitive people. His people cast into the bonds of servitude, under the heel of civilisation. Justice has come for the lawless, as the outsiders would claim it. But still, the Ghorfa do not kneel in the starmetal hulls of their captors. Bound and bloodied, they plot and scheme, planning the excruciating deaths for those who brought them low. And he shall free them, stowed away in one of the starmetal ships. He will free his kurantt or die trying.
Notable Possessions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Gaderffii: Traditional two-handed weapon of the Ghorfa, a favoured weapon of Her children. With one spiked end and a bludgeon on the other, it is a crude, simple tool. No adornments, only scratches and dents inflicted upon it by enemies laid low. His is customised, a barbed spike to rip the fleshy chunks out of poor sapients and frequently dipped in krayt venom. Custom Cycler slugthrowers: When resources were still aplenty for her children, he had fashioned two innovations for his people. One a shorter barreled, smoothbore Cycler with a lever-action loader and cartridge, a faster firing mechanism for shorter ranges. Another a longer barreled, scoped, traditional bolt action variant for sniping, effective for targets 800 meters away. As long as one can calculate trajectories with relevant gravitational acceleration, coreolis effect and wind speeds, this can extend to targets 1000 meters away. Poisons and chemicals: Brewed and wielded by the shamans, he has with him tools to make a sapient's death cruel and extended. Kill painfully so that your enemies flee. Inflict horrible chemicals gas and poisoned rounds so your enemies suffer. Or incapacitate them so they may suffer more personally. Stored within opaque glass vials upon his person, saner sapients would call him a madman. Witnessing the effects of these first hand, they would be madmen if they did not run away.
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Affiliations ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Urr'argh bows to no one. His only bond is one to his kurantt.
Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Describe your character's personality here
Notable Skills ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ (Skills that might be useful for the RP. You don't have to list everything, just what is core to the character)
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Full Name Age Species Force sensitivity level (N/A for droid, else either Lower than average, average, or Force Sensitive. If they have practiced with the force, either on their own or as a member of an order, mention it here)
Personal History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ (Talk about their biography, how they came to be where they are now)
Notable Possessions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ (Notable items that the character owns. Minor posessons don't have to be listed, this is just for the most important items they have. Starships and rare artifacts are subject to GM approval at the start of the RP)
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(List characters they know and have some kind of relationship with. Can be PCs or NPCs) Character: Relationship
The Character Sheet is in post 0 of the characters tab.
Forgive my eagerness but my muse cannot be stopped hehe. Here it is ->
Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Hero. Outcast. Failure. Much scorn and praise can be contributed to this Ghorfa. The weight of burden rests heavily upon him. The bonds of servitude are latched upon his people. He must will himself to be strong against his growing desperation. To be the hope his united kurantt deserve. A wandering soul trying to find cause, gather strength, gain power to free his people. Savagery. Brutality. Cunning. All traits must be called upon to save the children of the Dune Mother. He appears churlish, overconfident and rude, many dismissing him as a mere upstart primitive. Beware those who underestimate him, for they will find krayt poison in their food and a bomb in their guarded safe spaces. Death comes for those who stand in the way of the kurantt. In the contrary, those who know him personally know him as honourable, in the Ghorfa sense. He does not lie, he does not hurt the young or frail. Fiercely determined to his cause, there is something to admire in this fierce primitive. Barbarism hides cunning, using the skewed views of the outsider to form a protecting image around him. They think him senseless, dumb, unable to grasp the greater scope of the galaxy. But he is a storyteller, the wisdom of his entire people is branded into his brain. Armed with the annals of history, a greater mind can be created from that of a primitive. One aware of shortcomings and strengths, patiently waiting for the time to strike. He is limited in this great galaxy and he is painfully aware of it.
Notable Skills ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Survivalist: Wasteful children the Dune Mother makes not. This one can utilise expert survival knowledge learned from years in the sands and stars to be self-sufficient from dreaded civilisation. Isolation makes people strong, lest they break under the pressure. Terrorist or Freedom Fighter?: Improvised explosive devices can be made out of wires, overcharged blaster packs and a simple trigger. A spiked fall trap can be hidden under carefully placed tarps and foliage. Ambushes can be set against supply lines or sleeping troops. People can be taken hostage for ransom, better supplies, better guns, to be turned against the oppressor. Torture is a tool wielded expertly to reveal movements of kidnappers and the kidnapped. Primitive gunsmith: The slugthrower is often dismissed by the wider galaxy as loud, inefficient and primitive. Can a regular blaster kill a man 1000 meters away? Can blaster packs contain poisons which drag a man's death out to hours and hours? Can it brutally take a chunk of alien flesh out of its torso, viscera splattering over its comrades? Many have dismissed his rifles and many have thus fallen to them. Primitive chemist: Taught by the shamans of the wastes, he wields a basic understanding of chemicals and poisons to inflict pain unto his enemies. Poisoned slugs, yellow-green gas lethal to sapients without rebreathers, flammable clear liquids which offer a strong drink to pass the time. Rudimentary, limited knowledge but wielded with deadly effectiveness.
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Urr'argh Ak-Shaffi 45 Ghorfa Average
Personal History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Storyteller. Wanderer. Chosen of Beyond Her Grasp. Chieftain of the Dune Sea. This one was once trained by a she-devil, an Ulia-ah deemed different from the others and thus separated, to be trained as a tale weaver. Hour after painstaking hour, he would recite the verbal history of his people. From the time they emerged from the gardens as Kumumgah to when they were struck down to Her Grasp in the sands, changed into the Ghorfa. Failure in his recitation would cause the pain of death upon him. He would take over his predecessor, the she-devil taskmaster taken to wander aimlessly in the Dune Sea, as he will do for his own successor. As is the way. The title of storyteller changes often, for the dunes are cruel as She is cruel. An elder storyteller can spell doom for a tribe, for an early death of a storyteller means a tribe falls to infighting, unworthy of the Ghorfa. He thus taught another young one swiftly after, following in his predecessor's footsteps and cast out into Dune Sea. As is the way. Star Wanderer he became, a Beyond, taken by an outsider as pet and subordinate. Taken beyond Her Grasp, further than the fighting twin brothers in the sky. He learned the ways, the tongues, the civilisation of the outsider. He saw naught but things to look down upon. They fought just as the Ghorfa, were just as greedy and just as cruel. They call him primitive but all he could see was folly, blinded by their arrogance in technology. He would escape when his master turned on his people, as any freethinking Ghorfa should as Her children do not kneel. He would return to Her children scattered from the heights he had seen them before, brought low by an enemy he had years to learn from. Hero they would call him, Chieftain of the Dune Sea. Failure, the outsiders would whisper later on. A primitive terrorist failing his primitive people. His people cast into the bonds of servitude, under the heel of civilisation. Justice has come for the lawless, as the outsiders would claim it. But still, the Ghorfa do not kneel in the starmetal hulls of their captors. Bound and bloodied, they plot and scheme, planning the excruciating deaths for those who brought them low. And he shall free them, stowed away in one of the starmetal ships. He will free his kurantt or die trying.
Notable Possessions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Gaderffii: Traditional two-handed weapon of the Ghorfa, a favoured weapon of Her children. With one spiked end and a bludgeon on the other, it is a crude, simple tool. No adornments, only scratches and dents inflicted upon it by enemies laid low. His is customised, a barbed spike to rip the fleshy chunks out of poor sapients and frequently dipped in krayt venom. Custom Cycler slugthrowers: When resources were still aplenty for her children, he had fashioned two innovations for his people. One a shorter barreled, smoothbore Cycler with a lever-action loader and cartridge, a faster firing mechanism for shorter ranges. Another a longer barreled, scoped, traditional bolt action variant for sniping, effective for targets 800 meters away. As long as one can calculate trajectories with relevant gravitational acceleration, coreolis effect and wind speeds, this can extend to targets 1000 meters away. Poisons and chemicals: Brewed and wielded by the shamans, he has with him tools to make a sapient's death cruel and extended. Kill painfully so that your enemies flee. Inflict horrible chemicals gas and poisoned rounds so your enemies suffer. Or incapacitate them so they may suffer more personally. Stored within opaque glass vials upon his person, saner sapients would call him a madman. Witnessing the effects of these first hand, they would be madmen if they did not run away.
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Urr'argh bows to no one. His only bond is one to his kurantt.
Approved, you may post him to the character tab.
Intertia PM'd me a CS that I reviewed and approved. He has posted it to the character tab.
I hope it's alright if High Moon & I come from a very... Specific zone. It works into our backstory.
It should be okay, but if you want to discuss the details with me before submitting a sheet to check, you can do it via PM, or (preferably) the discord server linked in the first post.
Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ stoic, stubborn, brash, hard headed, protective, damaged.
Roak is a peculiar individual. this one keeps to the old teachings of the mandalorian and their way of life. he takes jobs and keeps moving flying as low as he can to avoid notice to avoid the fate of his clansmen for now. silence often accompanies him while he wanders alone aimlessly through the stars.
this one can be slow to trust for obvious reasons. the galaxy has lost what semblance of stability it once had and now a ghost fleet threatens them all. even his visions and nightmares seem to get worse and worse. still he refuses to give up and instead thrives to keep pushing, keep building his arsenal of weapons and allies to fight. so that one day he may be able to find his home world and rebuild the mandalorian way.
Notable Skills ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Roak has been hard trained from an early age to be a pit fighter. Stolen from his nest and bought as a slave. Getting up close and personal is no problem for him, and he always enjoys a good fight. But before he could fight he had other duties, mostly medical or repair. When not being used as a training dummy for the older fighters. Roak would find himself assisting some others in the medical bay or be tasked to repairing and reprogramming the training droids. Even through this the youngling would occasionally wander off and hide. Mostly to sleep or just get away and over time excelled at it.
•- Close Quarters Battle / Saber Training — Better than most others, something about a blade and getting up close to people is exhilarating for him. •- Advanced Combat Medical Training — Had a knack and prior training for it and Elder Resol capitalized on it. •- Stealth — Even for a big guy he is pretty quiet and can melt away if he wants too. •- Tracking — Hunting is instinctual for him, even if he's never seen his home world. •- Repair/ Hacking — Through his years as a slave one of his jobs was repairing and sometimes reprogramming droids and other computer equipment.
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Roak Vano Resol 22 Barabel Force Sensitive - Untrained, receives visions he perceives as nightmares.
Personal History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Roak Vano Resol was born during hyperspace transit aboard the Corellian merchant ship “The Ravana.” This ship although classified as a merchant vessel was at the time transporting stolen Barabel eggs. Roak and his clutch mates hatched on their way to a small moon controlled by a few Hutts. These Hutts made their money with controlling fighting pits across the small unnamed moon.
Through fighting and training Roak grew strong and fast. Adapting very well to the rigors of training and surviving n and around the fighting pits. The young reptile knew little other than fighting and surviving. The only time he would get any education is when he was put in to help with the medical staff or repair or rework droids. All this fighting and struggling changed when Roak was about to enter his first battle to the death at a young age.
At the time he was still rather small compared to the others. But before the fight could begin, the arena was raided by a small task force of Mandalorian's trying to rescue a vip, who was also in the arena with him. Seeing this as a way out into the vast places the others would talk about Roak was quick to assist and help them. He knew he was dead either way.
After this and a few tense moments aboard their ship he was informally inducted into their group as a foundling. Over the next few years Roak would grow strong and smart. The Mando's trained him and taught him about the galaxy they all called home. the young adult has been doing extremely well with Elder Resol's guidance. the man in charge of their group.
during a job the group of mandolorian's were ambushed and were all be wiped out. Roak tried to save them but was unsuccessful. the only thing he could do was run and fight another day.
Notable Possessions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Heavy Combat Armor, is the classification of his armor. With a black and green color scheme to represent his duty and sense of justice. Made to have more protection than standard Mando armor due to his close quarters fighting style. This armor has armor plates on the arms and legs and thicker armor on the torso while still leaving gaps near the joints for better movement and agility. Although mostly made from duraplast, the armor covering his vitals is durasteel. This heavy armor looks more like the ancient Mandalorian Shock Trooper Armor found in old stories and documents. The helmet supports a base combat computer and range finder as well as a sealed 1 hour emergency life support mode for toxic environments and vacuum.
Short barreled blaster rifle, Lower range but easier to use in close quarters. Heavy Blaster Pistol, Holstered on left hip. Ryyk Blade, Tucked under his jet pack on his right shoulder, a gift from an old Wookie who he saved. Survival Knife x2, One on his left hip the other concealed in his right boot. Other Gear: Roak tends to pack a little heavier on the ration side of things due to needing a little more food than the others. He will also have some hunting or survival gear associated with his need to hunt during his down time. However, Roak is very capable of making what ever he needs on the fly and other than a few simple tools he doesn't carry much else.
Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ stoic, stubborn, brash, hard headed, protective, damaged.
Roak is a peculiar individual. this one keeps to the old teachings of the mandalorian and their way of life. he takes jobs and keeps moving flying as low as he can to avoid notice to avoid the fate of his clansmen for now. silence often accompanies him while he wanders alone aimlessly through the stars.
this one can be slow to trust for obvious reasons. the galaxy has lost what semblance of stability it once had and now a ghost fleet threatens them all. even his visions and nightmares seem to get worse and worse. still he refuses to give up and instead thrives to keep pushing, keep building his arsenal of weapons and allies to fight. so that one day he may be able to find his home world and rebuild the mandalorian way.
Notable Skills ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Roak has been hard trained from an early age to be a pit fighter. Stolen from his nest and bought as a slave. Getting up close and personal is no problem for him, and he always enjoys a good fight. But before he could fight he had other duties, mostly medical or repair. When not being used as a training dummy for the older fighters. Roak would find himself assisting some others in the medical bay or be tasked to repairing and reprogramming the training droids. Even through this the youngling would occasionally wander off and hide. Mostly to sleep or just get away and over time excelled at it.
•- Close Quarters Battle / Saber Training — Better than most others, something about a blade and getting up close to people is exhilarating for him. •- Advanced Combat Medical Training — Had a knack and prior training for it and Elder Resol capitalized on it. •- Stealth — Even for a big guy he is pretty quiet and can melt away if he wants too. •- Tracking — Hunting is instinctual for him, even if he's never seen his home world. •- Repair/ Hacking — Through his years as a slave one of his jobs was repairing and sometimes reprogramming droids and other computer equipment.
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Roak Vano Resol 22 Barabel Force Sensitive - Untrained, receives visions he perceives as nightmares.
Personal History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Roak Vano Resol was born during hyperspace transit aboard the Corellian merchant ship “The Ravana.” This ship although classified as a merchant vessel was at the time transporting stolen Barabel eggs. Roak and his clutch mates hatched on their way to a small moon controlled by a few Hutts. These Hutts made their money with controlling fighting pits across the small unnamed moon.
Through fighting and training Roak grew strong and fast. Adapting very well to the rigors of training and surviving n and around the fighting pits. The young reptile knew little other than fighting and surviving. The only time he would get any education is when he was put in to help with the medical staff or repair or rework droids. All this fighting and struggling changed when Roak was about to enter his first battle to the death at a young age.
At the time he was still rather small compared to the others. But before the fight could begin, the arena was raided by a small task force of Mandalorian's trying to rescue a vip, who was also in the arena with him. Seeing this as a way out into the vast places the others would talk about Roak was quick to assist and help them. He knew he was dead either way.
After this and a few tense moments aboard their ship he was informally inducted into their group as a foundling. Over the next few years Roak would grow strong and smart. The Mando's trained him and taught him about the galaxy they all called home. the young adult has been doing extremely well with Elder Resol's guidance. the man in charge of their group.
during a job the group of mandolorian's were ambushed and were all be wiped out. Roak tried to save them but was unsuccessful. the only thing he could do was run and fight another day.
Notable Possessions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Heavy Combat Armor, is the classification of his armor. With a black and green color scheme to represent his duty and sense of justice. Made to have more protection than standard Mando armor due to his close quarters fighting style. This armor has armor plates on the arms and legs and thicker armor on the torso while still leaving gaps near the joints for better movement and agility. Although mostly made from duraplast, the armor covering his vitals is durasteel. This heavy armor looks more like the ancient Mandalorian Shock Trooper Armor found in old stories and documents. The helmet supports a base combat computer and range finder as well as a sealed 1 hour emergency life support mode for toxic environments and vacuum.
Short barreled blaster rifle, Lower range but easier to use in close quarters. Heavy Blaster Pistol, Holstered on left hip. Ryyk Blade, Tucked under his jet pack on his right shoulder, a gift from an old Wookie who he saved. Survival Knife x2, One on his left hip the other concealed in his right boot. Other Gear: Roak tends to pack a little heavier on the ration side of things due to needing a little more food than the others. He will also have some hunting or survival gear associated with his need to hunt during his down time. However, Roak is very capable of making what ever he needs on the fly and other than a few simple tools he doesn't carry much else.
Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Arec is a proud individual, coming from a place of wealth. Because of this he is very entitled, believing things should always go his way. He is also a very driven person, always working toward some kind of goal. He also holds others to these standards, always expecting that everyone to do their best and be successful. This also causes him to be somewhat of a perfectionist.
While Arec has many acquaintances, he has no true friends. This is due to his failure to connect. While Arec does appear confident and strong, he’s never really been able to be candid with anyone, save his family. He has a fear of being hurt, which can result in him hurting others so that they don’t get close. While Arec is aware of these fears, he would never admit it, as that would be admitting weakness, something you should not do in the current state of the galaxy.
Notable Skills ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Force: Arec has a natural affinity for the Force. The ability that comes the easiest for him is to sense things. Arec has the natural ability to sense others strong in the Force, that is if he’s close enough. He also sometimes can sense when bad things are soon to happen. Under his father’s training, Arec learnt the basics of telekinesis, being able to lift small things with his mind if he can focus directly on it. In moments of extreme emotion, Arec can launch a powerful force push.
Lightsaber Combat: Shortly before his death, Arec’s father taught him the basics of lightsaber combat. While this training was brief, Arec did learn a little of Form I: Shii-Cho and Form IV: Ataru. With this training, Arec does know how to properly wield a lightsaber, and can use it effectively in combat. Arec’s fighting style usually involves rushing his opponent and chopping them down before they can react.
Negotiating: A skill past on from his parents, due to his high society lineage Arec is skilled in talking with others to get his way. While he may not be dealing with fine art dealers, these skills have transferred over to dealing with criminals, informants, or even Hutts.
Personal History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Arec comes from a long line of Arkanian/Human hybrids. First created during the Old Republic by Arkanian geneticists, this new species was created to do manual labour for the pure blood Arkanian ruling class. While initially just a slave caste, these Arkanian Offshoots managed to form their own culture and practises. Part of that culture was Jedi training. Many Arkanian Offshoots were strong in the Force and would become Jedi. This tradition of Force training was a big part of Arec’s family lineage for many generations.
Arec’s grandfather was trained as an Imperial Knight, an order of grey force users who served the Emperor. When the Empire ended up combining with the Republic, the Imperial Knights continued to serve the Imperial Magistrate. Arec’s grandfather would create quite a name for himself, creating status and wealth for his family. Upon retiring from the order, Arec’s grandfather would build a villa on Arkania for his family. Arec’s father would continue this tradition, also training as an Imperial Knight.
Arec’s father would continue to build up his family’s power and status. It would be in this status that Arec was born. For the first two years of his life, Arec would live at his family’s villa on Arkania. But this idyllic life would not last forever. In the third year of his life, war broke out around Arec. Immediately, his father exited his life, off to fight for the Imperial Republic. While his mother was scared of the war, she felt safe on Arkania.
That feeling of safety would quickly disappear as planets began to be destroyed. Arec’s mother attempted to contact his father, only to learn that he was missing in action. In a fright, Arec and his mother abandoned Arkania, paying a smuggler to take them to the Mid Rim. Arec’s mother’s fears would be prove true two years later when the Holo-News would announce the destruction of Arkania. Shortly after this the whole Holo-Net would stop working.
Following this, Arec’s mother decided to not stay in one place. The mother and son began wandering the galaxy, trying to avoid all the rampant battles. It was three years into this nomadic lifestyle that Arec began to feel things through the Force. While living in a refugee camp, the Force called Arec to explore the camp. While searching the camp, Arec discovered his father. Apparently the Cacophony had driven him mad, causing amnesia. Arec took the bewildered man to his tent, where the sight of his son and wife caused his memories to return.
The now re-united family continued to wander the stars. They would continue to travel for many years, up until the end of the war. The end of the war also brought the end of the Cacophony, allowing Arec’s father’s full Force abilities to return. Arec’s father then decided to train him in the ways of the Force. While living in the Outer Rim, Arec would be taught by his father the basics of the Force.
It was around the time that he was teaching Arec to wield a lightsaber, Arec’s father developed a terminal illness. While he initially shrugged it off, Arec’s father would quickly fall deathly ill. With no real medical services on the planet they lived on, Arec left to find his father a doctor. He would travel for a month, during which time he couldn’t find a doctor willing to risk travelling to a patient. Defeated, Arec returned home, only to learn that his father had passed away a few days before.
It also turned out that his mother had also left in search of medicine. After burying his father, Arec awaited for the return of his mother. But after a few months, she still hadn’t returned. Taking his dead father’s lightsaber and armour, Arec left to find his own way in the galaxy.
Arec would take odd mercenary and bounty hunter, known for his crimson armour and his lightsaber. With no centralized government to work for, Arec would take many jobs with the Hutts. Under the Hutts, Arec wants to rebuild his family’s wealth and status. And in all his travels, he is always looking for his mother.
Notable Possessions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Imperial Knight Lightsaber: The standard weapon of an Imperial Knight. It has a grey cylindrical design, with black ridges, and a white blade of light. Arec’s particular lightsaber is damaged cosmetically, with a few dings, scuffs, chips, and even a dent.
Imperial Knight Armour: The standard armour of an Imperial Knight. This crimson armour is made of the same material as Darth Vader’s armour. Covering the full body, this red armour is mostly blaster resistant, with the gauntlets in particular being entwined cortosis, making it so it could block a few strikes from a lightsaber. As this armour was in use for the whole of the war, and Arec still uses it as a mercenary, it is quite beat up. There are notable blaster marks, chipped armour, and whole pieces missing. Still Arec wears it proudly, and is quite fond of the black cape and hood that is still in good condition.
Affiliations ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Edun Zarr: Arec’s mother. She disappeared several years back while searching for medicine. Arec is still actively looking for her, but it is very hard with the chaotic state of the galaxy.
Nolgin the Hutt: A lesser Hutt in the galactic east, Nolgin often deals with Arec, being the one who gives him jobs. While friendly with Arec, he would betray him in an instant if it would benefit him.
So, I'm interested, and I have an idea for a dark side cult, if you'll let me know if this will fit in.
The Family. Hierarchy is superficially quite simple, with only two tiers. Sibling, and Child.
Siblings, titled predictably as "Brother [name]" or "Sister [name]," are nominally equal. None is permitted to hold dominion over the others, but don't be fooled into thinking this makes them a democracy. Each does as they please, with the single rule being that they may not harm each other. Despite constant internal strife, they are (generally) unreasonably loyal to one another, and will band together without a thought against any outside threat. The number of siblings is limited by the Family's collection of lightsabers. You must have one to gain the title, but no one in the Family actually knows how to build them.
Children are a combination of apprentice and slave. They are taught the traditions and skills of the Family, and often pitted against each other to sharpen those skills. In a bizarre twist, while Siblings are forbidden to harm their Brothers and Sisters, Children are encouraged to try to kill their elders to claim one of the Family's prized lightsabers. This is both the Children's only means of advancement, and the Siblings' primary weapon against each other. You may not harm your Brother, but you can train his successor, and orchestrate his death.
Their philosophy is fairly typical, if quite unsophisticated dark side rhetoric. They use strong emotions to bend the Force to their will, with a particular reverence for pain as a source of power. It is quite common for their garb to include deliberately painful eleme to, such as spikes, needles or even piercings that affix to the garment. As the Force has quieted, they have resorted to stranger and more drastic versions of this practice.
Personality ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Arec is a proud individual, coming from a place of wealth. Because of this he is very entitled, believing things should always go his way. He is also a very driven person, always working toward some kind of goal. He also holds others to these standards, always expecting that everyone to do their best and be successful. This also causes him to be somewhat of a perfectionist.
While Arec has many acquaintances, he has no true friends. This is due to his failure to connect. While Arec does appear confident and strong, he’s never really been able to be candid with anyone, save his family. He has a fear of being hurt, which can result in him hurting others so that they don’t get close. While Arec is aware of these fears, he would never admit it, as that would be admitting weakness, something you should not do in the current state of the galaxy.
Notable Skills ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Force: Arec has a natural affinity for the Force. The ability that comes the easiest for him is to sense things. Arec has the natural ability to sense others strong in the Force, that is if he’s close enough. He also sometimes can sense when bad things are soon to happen. Under his father’s training, Arec learnt the basics of telekinesis, being able to lift small things with his mind if he can focus directly on it. In moments of extreme emotion, Arec can launch a powerful force push.
Lightsaber Combat: Shortly before his death, Arec’s father taught him the basics of lightsaber combat. While this training was brief, Arec did learn a little of Form I: Shii-Cho and Form IV: Ataru. With this training, Arec does know how to properly wield a lightsaber, and can use it effectively in combat. Arec’s fighting style usually involves rushing his opponent and chopping them down before they can react.
Negotiating: A skill past on from his parents, due to his high society lineage Arec is skilled in talking with others to get his way. While he may not be dealing with fine art dealers, these skills have transferred over to dealing with criminals, informants, or even Hutts.
Personal History ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Arec comes from a long line of Arkanian/Human hybrids. First created during the Old Republic by Arkanian geneticists, this new species was created to do manual labour for the pure blood Arkanian ruling class. While initially just a slave caste, these Arkanian Offshoots managed to form their own culture and practises. Part of that culture was Jedi training. Many Arkanian Offshoots were strong in the Force and would become Jedi. This tradition of Force training was a big part of Arec’s family lineage for many generations.
Arec’s grandfather was trained as an Imperial Knight, an order of grey force users who served the Emperor. When the Empire ended up combining with the Republic, the Imperial Knights continued to serve the Imperial Magistrate. Arec’s grandfather would create quite a name for himself, creating status and wealth for his family. Upon retiring from the order, Arec’s grandfather would build a villa on Arkania for his family. Arec’s father would continue this tradition, also training as an Imperial Knight.
Arec’s father would continue to build up his family’s power and status. It would be in this status that Arec was born. For the first two years of his life, Arec would live at his family’s villa on Arkania. But this idyllic life would not last forever. In the third year of his life, war broke out around Arec. Immediately, his father exited his life, off to fight for the Imperial Republic. While his mother was scared of the war, she felt safe on Arkania.
That feeling of safety would quickly disappear as planets began to be destroyed. Arec’s mother attempted to contact his father, only to learn that he was missing in action. In a fright, Arec and his mother abandoned Arkania, paying a smuggler to take them to the Mid Rim. Arec’s mother’s fears would be prove true two years later when the Holo-News would announce the destruction of Arkania. Shortly after this the whole Holo-Net would stop working.
Following this, Arec’s mother decided to not stay in one place. The mother and son began wandering the galaxy, trying to avoid all the rampant battles. It was three years into this nomadic lifestyle that Arec began to feel things through the Force. While living in a refugee camp, the Force called Arec to explore the camp. While searching the camp, Arec discovered his father. Apparently the Cacophony had driven him mad, causing amnesia. Arec took the bewildered man to his tent, where the sight of his son and wife caused his memories to return.
The now re-united family continued to wander the stars. They would continue to travel for many years, up until the end of the war. The end of the war also brought the end of the Cacophony, allowing Arec’s father’s full Force abilities to return. Arec’s father then decided to train him in the ways of the Force. While living in the Outer Rim, Arec would be taught by his father the basics of the Force.
It was around the time that he was teaching Arec to wield a lightsaber, Arec’s father developed a terminal illness. While he initially shrugged it off, Arec’s father would quickly fall deathly ill. With no real medical services on the planet they lived on, Arec left to find his father a doctor. He would travel for a month, during which time he couldn’t find a doctor willing to risk travelling to a patient. Defeated, Arec returned home, only to learn that his father had passed away a few days before.
It also turned out that his mother had also left in search of medicine. After burying his father, Arec awaited for the return of his mother. But after a few months, she still hadn’t returned. Taking his dead father’s lightsaber and armour, Arec left to find his own way in the galaxy.
Arec would take odd mercenary and bounty hunter, known for his crimson armour and his lightsaber. With no centralized government to work for, Arec would take many jobs with the Hutts. Under the Hutts, Arec wants to rebuild his family’s wealth and status. And in all his travels, he is always looking for his mother.
Notable Possessions ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ Imperial Knight Lightsaber: The standard weapon of an Imperial Knight. It has a grey cylindrical design, with black ridges, and a white blade of light. Arec’s particular lightsaber is damaged cosmetically, with a few dings, scuffs, chips, and even a dent.
Imperial Knight Armour: The standard armour of an Imperial Knight. This crimson armour is made of the same material as Darth Vader’s armour. Covering the full body, this red armour is mostly blaster resistant, with the gauntlets in particular being entwined cortosis, making it so it could block a few strikes from a lightsaber. As this armour was in use for the whole of the war, and Arec still uses it as a mercenary, it is quite beat up. There are notable blaster marks, chipped armour, and whole pieces missing. Still Arec wears it proudly, and is quite fond of the black cape and hood that is still in good condition.
Affiliations ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔
Edun Zarr: Arec’s mother. She disappeared several years back while searching for medicine. Arec is still actively looking for her, but it is very hard with the chaotic state of the galaxy.
Nolgin the Hutt: A lesser Hutt in the galactic east, Nolgin often deals with Arec, being the one who gives him jobs. While friendly with Arec, he would betray him in an instant if it would benefit him.
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