Auz

Sk8te: A Dystopian Cyberpunk Rp

Personally, I love Cyberpunk both the theme and the game and what you've put so far has hit that sweet spot. I'd be interest in creating a Sk8te member for sure, just feels like it would be a fun role.

Sk8te: A Dystopian Cyberpunk Rp

Interested

Star Wars: Aeons

Tyrsam “Tyr” Musarna

Name: Tyrsam “Tyr” Musarna

Age:

30

Species:

Human

Occupation:

Smuggler

Homeworld:

Dandoran, a lush and watery planet found in what was formerly Hutt Space.

Appearance:

Aside from what you see, Tyr holds himself high in a smug self-esteem. Slick, armed with a silver tongue as well as sarcastic quips, he idolises the smugglers of years gone, hoping to emulate them from head to toe. He walks straight backed at a stock-standard size of 5'11, with the posture and poise of a ballerina, sure footed in every step.

The man also loves his fashion, spending an obscene amount of time carving out a dashing appearance, with the latest in clothing to match.

Equipment:

Weapons: Shotgun, combat knife, pistol
Utilities: Tinkerers tools (small tool kit for minor mechanic/robotic adjustments), creds, ship-holo interface chip (installed in his head), wrist mounted scanner and AI linked lockpick
Other: Smokes and flask (whiskey)

Bio:

Born on Dandoran, Tyr’s mother died during childbirth in a Cartel den that lacked any sort of medical facility. His father, an unknown and faceless member of the gang, set the boy to work in the hideout's hangar bay from almost as soon as he could walk.

Though lush and beautiful, the planet's population was nothing but a seedy underbelly of pirates, cartels and other unsightly underworld figures. When Hutt Space fractured, the planet was thrown into disarray, with any idiot with a gun looking to rule. Cartels constantly fought each other and themselves, with most dissolving and reforming so often that their names became meaningless. Tyr’s father was killed during the conflict sometime during his early adolescence, leaving the boy to fend for himself.

Tyr offered services repairing droids and ships, making a small living for himself all the while building his very own programs. Though he had an affinity for dealing with hardware, it was always the software that interested him. For the life of him, Tyr could never understand why they crammed such intelligent programming into clunky, slow moving robots. Fear, was what he surmised, fear of what AI could truly achieve if given a more form free existence.

Eventually, a loose form of stability came to the planet by the way of Lando’s Privateers, a swanky and well dressed bunch who had let their virtuous sides get the better of them. With work drying up, Tyr being of age and things ‘becoming dreadfully boring’, the now young man, *ahem*, commandeered a ship by installing an AI program and sought off to become a smuggler in his own right.

Keeping his AI program a secret, Tyr managed to edge ahead of his competitors building a decent amount of notoriety, something his father never achieved. Nowadays he has become somewhat known in the region and while he isn’t a part of Lando’s Privateers, he is friendly with them.

With a mountain of tech being uncovered in the unknown region from the Starkiller Base, Tyr is on his way to meet with a new contact interested in selling pieces on the black market.

Powers and Abilities:

Tyr is an outlaw, a gunslinger with quick hands and an even faster triggerfinger. He’s also a robotics expert having worked on them since his childhood and a decent ship mechanic. Having spent so much time among his robot companions, he speaks droid and common.

But the man’s strongest ability is his AI run ship. Personally linked to him thanks to a chip in his head, he’s able to navigate sticky situations a lot easier than other regular humans. The ship does have a back-up droid it can deploy, however it’s not a combat model and serves only to be moved to another ship if necessary.

Tyr's Current Ship

Star Wars: Aeons

Tyrsam “Tyr” Musarna

Name: Tyrsam “Tyr” Musarna

Age:

30

Species:

Human

Occupation:

Smuggler

Homeworld:

Dandoran, a lush and watery planet found in what was formerly Hutt Space. (Real Place in Star Wars)

Appearance:

Aside from what you see, Tyr holds himself high in a smug self-esteem. Slick and armed with a silver tongue as well as sarcastic quips, he idolises the smugglers of years gone, hoping to emulate them from head to toe. He walks straight backed, with the posture and poise of a ballerina, sure footed in every step.

The man also loves his fashion, spending an obscene amount of time carving out a dashing appearance, with the latest in clothing to match.

Equipment:

Weapons: Shotgun, combat knife, pistol
Utilities: Tinkerers tools (small tool kit for minor mechanic/robotic adjustments), creds, ship-holo interface chip (installed in his head) and AI linked lockpick
Other: Smokes and flask (whiskey)

Bio:

Born on Dandoran, Tyr’s mother died during childbirth in a Cartel den that lacked any sort of medical facility. His father, an unknown and faceless member of the gang, set the boy to work in the hideout's hangar bay from almost as soon as he could walk.

Though lush and beautiful, the planet's population was nothing but a seedy underbelly of pirates, cartels and other unsightly underworld figures. When Hutt Space fractured, the planet was thrown into disarray, with any idiot with a gun looking to rule. Cartels constantly fought each other and themselves, with most dissolving and reforming so often that their names became meaningless. Tyr’s father was killed during the conflict sometime during his early adolescence, leaving the boy to fend for himself.

Tyr offered services repairing droids and ships, making a small living for himself all the while building his very own programs. Though he had an affinity for dealing with hardware, it was always the software that interested him. For the life of him, Tyr could never understand why they crammed such intelligent programming into clunky, slow moving robots. Fear, was what he surmised, fear of what AI could truly achieve if given a more form free existence.

Eventually, a loose form of stability came to the planet by the way of Lando’s Privateers, a swanky and well dressed bunch who had let their virtuous sides get the better of them. With work drying up, Tyr being of age and things ‘becoming dreadfully boring’, the now young man, *ahem*, commandeered a ship by installing an AI program and sought off to become a smuggler in his own right.

Keeping his AI program a secret, Tyr managed to edge ahead of his competitors building a decent amount of notoriety, something his father never achieved. Nowadays he has become somewhat known in the region and while he isn’t a part of Lando’s Privateers, he is friendly with them.

With a mountain of tech being uncovered in the unknown region from the Starkiller Base, Tyr is on his way to meet with a new contact interested in selling pieces on the black market.

Powers and Abilities:

Tyr is an outlaw, a gunslinger with quick hands and an even faster triggerfinger. He’s also a robotics expert having worked on them since his childhood and a decent ship mechanic. Having spent so much time among his robot companions, he speaks droid and common.

But the man’s strongest ability is his AI run ship. Personally linked to him thanks to a chip in his head, he’s able to navigate sticky situations a lot easier than other regular humans. The ship does have a back-up droid it can deploy, however it’s not a combat model and serves only to be moved to another ship if necessary.

Tyr's Current Ship

His Son Will Ride a Camel

Tres interested

TES: The Second Great War

The streets of Solitude were bursting at the seams. Soldiers of the Imperial army littered the pavement like grains of sand on a beach while merchants hustled their wears and locals hid in their safe havens. Sifting his way through the maze of men and mer, Edward weaved his way from the inn towards the perfume shop. His decision to reserve a room had in avertedly killed two birds with a single stone, for he had managed to snag one of the two remaining beds in all the city. That, and he was able to wash himself with a bucket from the well. “No sense in trying to find a perfume if all I can smell is myself.” He had reasoned.

The double doors to the shop unlocked with a sonorous gear shift, followed by a long whine as they opened. Inside, the shop had been made from solid stone blocks, awash with dark colours and contrasted by rugs, curtains and linens of warm colours. Candlelight and a fireplace flickered in the last gasps of the wind as the large doors howled shut. “No need for a bell here.” He mused as a middle-aged woman appeared from behind a desk towards the centre of the room.

A Breton, by the look of her, dressed in a simple cotton dress with her brunette hair flowing over her shoulders. She looked tired, exhausted even, as she smiled wearily at Edward. Stomping the mud from his boots, he swept the muck to one side with a single foot. The Squire beamed a smile of his own back, content in having found some semblance of home.

“Hi there, I’m Vivienne of Angeline’s Aromatics. How can I help you?”

The woman’s thick Nordish accent gave the young man a pause in his step as he approached the desk. “Oh… Erm…” he stuttered, attempting to stay on track. “I’m, um, after some perfume.”

“Ah, you too aye?” The shopkeeper chuckled. “Though I assume you don’t want anything from the Ashlands, right?”

“I’m sorry?” he replied, as his face fell further into confusion.

“Nothing,” She giggled, “Don’t worry. Any idea what you’re after?”

Edward’s head swiveled. All manner of potions and ingredients lined the many shelves that encircled the room. There were a few he recognised; restore health, magicka and stamina, even a few bottles for fortifying several different attributes and skills. But perfumes? That was far from his area of expertise. “No, not really. I need something for-”

“For the dinner this evening?” The woman replied, slamming down a rather large book on the table.

“Uh yeah, that’s the one.” Edward approached slowly, curious as to how she knew about the dinner. “Maybe something traditional?”

Vivienne paused, her lips pursing to one side as her head cocked. “I’m not sure if I have anything from High Rock, you lot can be an isolated bunch.” Flipping through a couple of pages, her finger traced down the many names that littered the book.

Edward’s chin reeled in. “You lot?” he said as he took a step back. “Surely you mean us lot?”

Vivienne shrugged, “I suppose so. I dunno. My Aunty, Angeline, brought me all the way from Wayrest when I was a baby, Divines rest her soul. I can’t even remember what High Rock looks like.” Edward could feel his face scrunch up at the mention of his rival city. A motion caught by the shopkeeper. “See, I’m not about that business.” She continued, stifling a laugh while reaching for a bottle off the shelf. “Bretons are so concerned with themselves while there’s a whole world out there.”

Popping the cork on top, Vivienne handed the young man the bottle. “The Nords don’t seem so different.” Edward muttered, taking a whiff of the perfume. “They seem to be just as concerned with themselves. I’m not even sure if they’ll continue to fight once the Thalmor have been driven back.” Pleasantly surprised with the aroma, the Squire gave a raised eyebrow nod of approval, recorking it and handing it back to the shopkeeper.

“That’s different.” She replied curtly, “Skyrim has seen too much of war. You would want the same had you lived through such a thing. The cost of war runs deep, further than most realise. Even if you’re not the one doing the fighting. Every soldier standing out there has friends, family, loved ones. To lose one person causes a rift… one that can drag a lot of people with you.” Staring off into the fireplace, Vivienne became mesmorised by the flickering of the flame, sighing heavily as she wrapped the bottle.

“It is our duty as those in the Light to drive out the Dark.” Edward spoke softly, as if to gently rouse her from her trance. “As difficult as that may be to process, those around us must understand we have an obligation.”

Handing over the bottle to the Squire, Vivienne grimaced, her eyes filled with pity. “Such words are spoken easily before the fight, young one. I pray that your innocence holds.”

Unsure how to reply, Edward returned her sentiment with a kind smile, placing some gold in her outstretched hand. Nodding to each other, the Squire took leave to finish getting ready for the evening’s festivities.

An Antique Land (Science Fantasy RP)

I'm interested

Firefly - Second 'Verse

I'm interested, I love the Firefly universe. Only thing is I can't post more than once per week. Would that be acceptable?

Mass Effect: Vigil

Havana, Cuba

February 7th, 2187

Mid-Morning

The ball bounced off the wall, ricocheting off the rim of a low hanging chandelier and landing in the tips of the Turian’s outstretched fingers. “Hm. Almost got away from me didn’t you?” He thought before flinging it back at the tiled floor of the hotel suite. A souvenir from one of the kids back in the desert, Kysar had departed with some of the useless human paper he’d received as payment for it. A worthy trade, at least in his opinion, as the rhythmic sound of the ball bouncing off the floor and the wall were calming in a way.

Besides, there wasn’t much else to do. He had already fired off a report on their first mission via an encrypted channel to Turian High Command. As expected there was no response, nor was there any updates to his missions, protocoles, parameters, or anything. Life, or more specifically his life, was beginning to grow quiet. Outside, Kysar could hear the hustle and bustle of the city, a slew of emotions returning to the streets. Normalcy was returning in force.

“Good for the humans.” The Turian mused, rubbing his chin. “I wonder if Palaven is doing the same.” His heart sank at the thought. It had been a long time since he thought of home, longer still since he’d thought of the only person on that wretched planet he actually cared about. The rubber squeaked as Kysar squeezed the ball. “Please be alright.”

A communicay pinging through on his omni-tool brought the Sentinel out of his trance. A couple messages had come through earlier noting a few of the others had left the hotel. Many in his new squad had made their way to the beach but Kysar had had enough sand for the time being. These new messages were different though, dossiers for a couple of new members. The Turian kicked up his feet onto the bed, bringing the new profiles up as he lay down.

“Another Human?” He rolled his eyes as he skimmed its contents. “Let’s hope this one lasts a little longer.” Flicking it away, he moved onto the next one, stopping dead on the photo. “Woah!” He said aloud as he sat up, back as straight as a ruler. “What do we have here?” Dropping the ball, the Turian zoomed in before darting back and forth across the file.

“Medic…” he muttered to himself, “Palaven… Taetrus… Doesn’t fire a gun?!” Kysar cocked his head to one side, wondering how that would look like, while at the same time making a mental note to come up with some sort of line around that. “Something about me being all the protection she needs.” Pressing on, he couldn’t help but smile. At least he’d get to have a little fun now, even if that was in the least some teasing and flirting.

When he finally finished, he closed his omni-tool, picking up the ball and laying back down on his bed. Tossing it towards the roof, Kysar allowed his mind to wander, his grin only becoming cheesier the further it went. “Oh yeah, things just took a turn.”

Avonshire - D&D Based Adventure

I'm interested, making up a character