DepressedSoviet

You are able to see into the future. How does the avatar above you die?

A mixture of old age and heartbreak.

Star Wars: Enclaves

"Oh, trust me, you're not interrupting anything, just a boring Jedi reading about an extinct culture and the history of an lifeless planet. It would be my absolute pleasure to assist you. It is what I'm here for after all." Maz had said, and Wilkdon had responded with "That's good that I'm not interrupting anything. I'd hate to disturb important business.

"Now let's not disappoint your new acquaintance. If you'd follow me, most everything we have on force sight should be just this way."

Wilkdon followed along as Mazai guided him to the various texts he had requested. Very appreciative of her aid in gathering the various writings, Wilkdon felt that he had to be sure to return the favor sometime in the future. After all, one good turn deserves another. he thought, a slight grin on his face.

Maz was an interesting person, a skilled Jedi, and a friend that Wilkdon was glad to have around. Her knowledge of the force and related topics was a great asset to have at the enclave, her library archives a fount of learning, and her combat skills weren't too shabby either. She got along well with most people, and it seemed to Wilkdon that most everyone at the enclave enjoyed her company. So as the two walked the library halls, Wilkdon felt a positive mood that seemed all too rare in these dark times.

With the texts on Force Sight having been easily found and acquired, as presumed by Maz, all that remained was to find the texts on the Miraluka. Wilkdon looked to Maz and stated "I hope you have at least an inkling idea as to where the books on the Miraluka might be. I don't mean to be forceful or impatient, I'd just like to get these books to my young friend before the council meeting Luthor mentioned the other day."

Star Wars: Enclaves

@DirtyDingoCrap! I completely spaced that post. Expect it really soon. I'm really sorry.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@Bright_OpsI'm assuming there'd be no qualms about Joran being on that ship as well? Cause I mean, if the trader takes in Xenos, I doubt he'd have any qualms about a rogue guardsman.

The Westminster League Of Extraordinary Individuals (WWII Superhero Spy RP)

Sorry to post in an RP OOC I'm not part of, but I need to do something.

@shylarah YOU TRAITOR! HOW COULD YOU?! JOINING ANOTHER SUPERNATURAL WWII RP?! I FEEL SO BETRAYED!

That is all, back to your RP.

For a Fistful of Credits: A Star Wars Story

@HexaflexagonI'm still here, just not sure I have anything to add right now.

Interplanetary Space Friends - A Game About Space Adventures, Friendship and Fast Food

Elarin watched with bemusement as Fiddlesticks made various remarks about Toony, calling her a 'maid', and all sorts of others. He felt that Fiddlesticks was just some sort of large kid in the end, and he didn't know whether that was a good thing or not. But when he expressed his concern about the food taking longer than expected, Elarin couldn't help but agree. The food DID seem to be taking longer than normal for a Henderson's Ribs, and might be a sign of bad things to come.

But when Vanessa brought the food out, Elarin's face grew a bit less weary, a small smirk forming on his reptilian snout. Finishing the sucker he had opened with a crunch, and placing the stick with the straw trash, he took a deep sip from his coffee. "Ahhh...now THAT'S the stuff...This'll keep me going for a bit longer." he said, the color returning to his scales, and his eyes looking a bit less glazed over. He was still in a somewhat foul mood however, so when Guerlaghiix began to threaten the group over getting their food first, he couldn't help but let out a groan. Fortunately, Vanessa seemed to have a hold on the situation, so Elarin just went back to his coffee and meal, grumbling something about "A bunch of strags that could go belgium themselves...", though he was careful to keep the volume low enough to where only those at the table could hear.

Grand Theft Auto: The Syndicate

So I'm going to have to rescind my interest in this RP. I'm backlogged with both work and free time stuff, and I don't think I'll be able to get to this. I'm sorry.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

@NecroesIt's been shown that, with some difficulty, humans and orks can naturally understand each other. Also High Gothic is the psuedu-latin that the Imperium uses for naming things(like Adeptus Astartes). Low Gothic is the one that's Space-English.

Are We the Bad Guys? - A WH40k RP [Mature]

Joran Hull, Escaped Penal Legionnaire

Name: Joran Hull

Gender: Male

Age: 32

Faction/Race/Species: Human/Ex-Imperium of Man

Sub-Faction: Ex-Savlar Chem Dogs

Rank/Position: Former Penal Legionnaire

Mental and Physical Traits: Joran is concerned primarily with one thing and one thing only: Himself. He only cares about his survival, his needs, his wants, and that's it. So when he was given the option to get out of Savlar's toxic mines, he took it, not caring that it meant service with the Imperial Guard. This mentality aided greatly in his survival skills, and perhaps its what let him escape, though its certainly what made him want to even try to escape. But escape he did, though not after acquiring plenty of useful skills and equipment as a Penal Legionnaire. Joran is skilled in both melee and ranged combat, though he fights much more randomly, with almost no distinct style or rhythm to it. He's also great at jury-rigging ramshackle equipment, and a damn fine cook, if you're willing to taste the sludge-looking dish he calls food.

Appearance: Joran has a very ragtag, scavver look to him. His hair is a filthy, matted mop, almost black from a mix of natural color and filth. His eyes are a bloodshot grey, whether that's from lack of sleep, excessive chem use, or both is unknown. His body is covered in dirt, scars, and burns, and he's rather lanky and thin. His one set of clothes is a hodgepodge of uniform pieces from various other Imperial Guard regiments, such as the black combat boots of a Catachan, the khaki fatigue pants of a Cadian, thick black leather gloves from a Steel Legion regiment, the grey fatigue jacket of his own penal uniform, and the headscarf and goggles of a Tallarn.

Wargear: Joran's gear is just as scrounged as everything else he owns, and it shows. Armed primarily with a Steel Legion lascarbine jury-rigged with a flamer pistol attached(he stole it from someone else in his regiment that built it), and an autopistol with a noble's name carved on the slide. He also has a rather large knife he claims he stole from a Catachan, though most don't believe him. He also carries a varied assortment of random grenades, each of which look different, and none of which he knows what they do until detonated. For armor, he wears a mismatched assortment of Flak and Carapace pieces looted off the corpses of other fallen guardsmen, all an assortment of colors and camouflage patterns. His assorted equipment includes both a nose-and-mouth respirator and a full head gas mask, a a wrist chrono timepiece that always lists it as 10th day of the 6th month, in the year M987, but with the correct time of day, a pair of magnoculars that cover everything with a red filter, and assorted cookware and utensils for making and holding food.

History: Prior to being sent to Savlar, Joran actually flew a cargo ship for a civilian trade organization. Eventually, he got sick of flying the same route between the same three planets every week, so he decided to take his ship and run, just trying to see where he could go. After killing the other members of the crew, fending off landing dock security, flying off into the stars, and ditching the cargo into space, he thought he was home free. Unfortunately he either didn't run far enough, or wasn't too good at covering his tracks, because he was found, and sentenced to work the Savlar mines for murder, resisting arrest, grand theft, destruction of property, and a myriad of other smaller charges.

While there, Joran showed his great survival instincts for the first time, making contacts and alliances with the other prisoners and the more morally corrupt guards. Gathering a decent amount of supplies and supply chains, Joran had just about as comfortable a life as possible on Savlar. So when the time came for another Penal Legion to be raised, the overseer of Joran's section of the prison decided he was living a bit TOO comfortably, and 'persuaded' him to volunteer into service with the Guard.

While in the Guard, Joran did surprisingly well, taking to killing and combat quickly. After a few years of skill, persuasion, and good fortune, he had amassed decent gear, excellent survival and field duty skills, and was ready to make his escape.

Taking the opportunity to board a cargo ship docked at his legion's base camp for a supply drop, he managed to escape WITHOUT having to kill anyone, hiding away in the cargo hold, and escaping when the ship returned to the nearby hive world it had departed from. Escaping from the ship, Joran managed to find and board a transport ship that would take it far from his penal legion, far from Savlar, and to a place where he could hopefully live his life the way he wanted, away from the rules of strict monotony.