Dragonbud

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

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The Droid scanned her dimly lit photoreceptors over the control panel in front of her. This ship was different from ships she had been designed to pilot, but enough things were similar enough that she was able to orient herself. She even found herself guiding her pilots hand a few times, pointing to different controls and beeping in a game of "Hot and Cold". The two felt like a relatively competent team, but B-0 chose to withhold her judgements until they got the ship off the ground. Which, to B-0s surprise had not happened yet. She supposed they had to wait for the captains orders, and for the rest of the crew to complete their pre-flight tasks, but the Droid found herself getting restless.

Baarsuth made a comment as he pulled a strange device from his coat about music. She watched in interest as he plugged the technology into the ships speaker system and pressed a button.

B-0 had certainly heard music before, but nothing like this. She took a moment to sift through her memory banks. Once or twice, while she was on Tatooine, could she hear the distant sounds of musicians entertaining the exhausted farmers and merchants. And even more recently, on Alderaan, had her master been serenaded by a wonderful singer with a wonderfully fishy face. But this was far different from any music she had ever experienced. B-0 could not identify a particular thing about the music that she enjoyed, perhaps it was the intense volume or the was the singer's voice blended perfectly with the instruments accompanying it.

Something made B-0's hollow chest cavity feel very...full. Perhaps she was malfunctioning. Perhaps this was the Force she had been searching for.

It was, as the narrator had stated, pretty lit.

It didn't take B-0 very long to realize a certain part of the song repeated. And while her memory banks did not contain the word 'chorus' she did quickly memorize this section of the music. On the third repeat B-0 began to trill and chirp along, a little pitchy but almost accurate in tone. The droid, as she dutifully watched over the various meters and screens on her half of the cockpit, was singing in her own strange little way.

A small part of B-0 questioned why she felt the urge to 'sing' along to the music. It certainly wasn't part of her programming, her Creators were not exactly a people of fine arts. She was never taught to sing, she was hardly taught anything outside of protocol. She just felt a...desire. Was this what it was like to be alive?

Probably not but she was still having a good time.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

This is my current emotion

Femme Fatales (Wild West)

Winnifred "Winnie" Stillwell

Full Name: Winifred "Winnie" Stillwell
Gender: Female
Age: 20

Job:

Winnie was, if her memory still serves her correctly, for a majority of her life a rancher. But after her accident she finds herself unable to move or react quickly, making some tasks associated with ranching dangerous. Winnie was recently given a job, out of the pity of the mayor, at the Postal Office, mostly sorting parcels and letters for deliveries.

Rank/Title (if any): N/A

Physical Appearance:

Winnie is a rather petit woman. She stands at 5'2 and weighs about 100 pounds soaking wet, her thin appearance making her look quite gaunt. She is rather pale, her once golden skin beginning to fade as she has been on bed rest for quite awhile, which can make her appear ill. Winnie has short, dark brown, curly hair. Her hair is also rather short, almost scandalously short, with large portions of her hair having to be shaved recently. Her green eyes are large and round, giving her a young and almost child-like appearance.

Winnie prefers wearing trousers to dresses and skirts, as she finds the extra fabric of longer garments tripping hazards. But she doesn't dare wear trousers out in pubic, for fear of public scolding and humiliation. She does, however, always carry parchment and a chalk board with her to try and communicate.

The most distinct feature on Winnie, however, is a relatively fresh scar on her left temple. A gunshot wound. She tries to keep it hidden beneath head scarves, or at least her hair, but it is pretty prominent.

Personality and Interests:

For the most part Winnie gives off the feeling of not being entirely 'there'. Like she might not understand what people are saying to her or doing around her. She tends to gaze around with half lidded and hazy eyes, staring off into the distance when there is nothing for her to pay attention to. Winnie is easily startled, especially around sudden loud noises. Winnie often needs a steady person to talk with, or remind her what she is supposed to be doing.

Her slightly slow personality is due to a recent accident. Along with most of her memories Winnie also lost her ability to speak. The most she can make is very quiet, breathy, sounds and wheezes. So for the most part she communicates with body language and written notes. Regardless of this, Winnie tries her hardest to keep a positive outlook. And while she sometimes struggles to make decisions on her own she follow orders to the best of her ability. Winnie loves to help people, always putting their needs before her own.

Winnie loves reading and listening to music, although she does not play an instrument herself. She has also taken a recent interest in painting, as it was suggested in helping her healing process.

Background:

Winnie knows very little able who she was or where she came from. Her life began again when she awoke strapped to a doctor's operating table, a woman with red hair pulling pieces of lead out of her head. She did not know how she got there and barely remembered who she was. All she knew was that her head hurt.

As the woman began the long healing process the doctors asked her to remember anything about what had happened. Most of her memories were hazy and incomplete. A ranch, a home, an argument. A Gunshot. Her name.

From there Winnie tried to discover her own past through what other people could tell her. She had been found several miles down the river, near death with a bullet wound being the clear cause of damage. Luck was on her side, it seemed, as a passing stagecoach found and took her to Holbrook. Here the doctors were able to save her life. But she had no identifying papers or features, no one came forth to claim the lost woman. And yet Winnie knew how to read, and carried herself with with an air of politeness that made her seem civilized, if not at least the wife of someone.

Winnie gave up on trying to discover who she was, although law enforcement still thought of her as an abnormal and rare case, and instead she settled into her life in Holbrook. She found the people to be friendly enough, some of the men being a little too pushy and flirty for a silent wife, and she still feels indebted to the doctors who saved her life.

She has been spending her time in Holbrook trying to find new ways to communicate. She has learned a few simple phrases, as well as the alphabet, in Sign Language. But not many other citizens can sign back.

Favorite Sayings: N/A

Main Horse’s Breed:
Winnie does not currently own a horse, but quite enjoys riding them. She finds it relaxing and freeing to feel the wind in her hair.

Main Horse’s Name: N/A

Indian Tribe (if none please but "no indian tribe"): N/A

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

@Spoopy Scary We have been friends for many years and through it all I would never abandon you...(when do I get my paycheck)

Femme Fatales (Wild West)

I am a pretty big fan of a kinda robin hood style group. Vigilante Justice!! But I could fit my character into any sort of group, I might PM you my concept :D

Femme Fatales (Wild West)

Oh snap. You got me. I have a character I have been dying to play.

From When The World Was Full of Wonders - An Interest Check

Maaaannn I am a sucker for any rp that I can be a centaur in

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

B-0 continued along with the group, her speakers remaining silent but her body whirling and squeaking softly as she climbed the stairs to the bridge. B-0 looked around the area, the gears in her neck grinding loudly as she did so. Something about this place, or the idea of this place, felt comfortable. Familiar. B-0 looked towards the two chairs at the end of the bridge, the pilot and co-pilot chairs. And although her was unable to emote, the action itself almost held longing within in.

What Varen said about the laser cannon did not seem to phase the droid, perhaps it was the wording on his phrase. Of course the laser cannon only worked sometimes, it would not work if it was broken or powered down. This would mean it did work when it was on and in good repair. Sometimes.

But the laser cannon did not really interest the droid. As Varen spoke B-0 took a few steps towards the chairs, even though she had not been ordered to. She stopped herself, however, when the rest of the group began to continue the tour. B-0 paused a moment, looking over her shoulder at the empty chairs before walking quickly to catch back up with the group, her metallic hull creaking under the strain.

The rest of the tour did not really interest the droid, luckily for her it was easy to look like she was paying attention. Oh the perks of being unable to physically emote. The lounge was nice, but she seriously doubted that she would be lounging with the rest of the crew any time soon. The supply of food kept there would also likely be untouched by the droid, as she did not eat. The bunks meant nothing to the droid, she already knew her room was the bridge. Of all the things in this section of the ship the engine was able to keep the droids attention. It sounded like her, whirling and humming, except much larger. And all the recordings and levels displayed around the engine, all things B-0 could relate to.

And then the captain said the magic words. Manning their stations. The droid, who had remained quite quiet throughout this entire tour, suddenly began to whirl and let out a long string of untranslatable beeps. Excitement. B-0 began to quickly make her way back towards the bridge, looking over her shoulder to make sure Varen and Baarsuth were following. She let out another long string of beeps and whistles, urging the others to hurry along. Soon they would be away from Aldaraan, much to the pleasure of the droid, and off into the great unknown.

The droid let Baarsuth pick his chair first, as it would only be fair to the pilot, and than sat down in the second chair. Something about this chair, and these controls in front of her, seemed to click within the droid. Although it had been years since she was allowed to be in control of a ship, and even though she moved with such strain earlier, something changed within the droid as she looked over the panels. Her programmed purpose. Her movements were clear and precise as she began pressing buttons and flicking switches, her dim photoreceptors glowing with a renewed light.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

B-0 watched with slight disinterest as Baarsuth gave her a look over. He seemed surprised that she had developed a way of speaking, most people she came in contact with were surprised that she did. But even with this confusion he did not appear hostile, there was no outcry for her to be wiped and silenced. B-0 knew little about facial expressions, especially on a reptilian race, but he seemed to be at least a little amazed by her. B-0 didn't mind the presumed praise. It took a lot of work to get herself to this stage.

He called her a custom droid, which she supposed she could agree with. Designed to be mass produced, the next great droid for battle and diplomacy, but production was stopped immediately. Too many flaws and bugs. The single B-0 unit in the entire galaxy. Custom Droid indeed.

B-0 was removed from her thoughts when Baarsuth extended one of his hands and introduced himself. He mentioned that he was excited to be working with the droid, a sentiment B-0 found interesting. Baarsuth specifically mentioned working with B-0. The little droid often found herself in the subservient side of most business relationships. Working with someone sounded pleasant.

The sound of grinding gears and slightly squeaky metal broke up the silence between the two as B-0 raised one of her hands. Her metallic, mitten-like, hands gripping Baarsuth's in a manner that could be described as 'pinchy' but not painful.

"Bo" The Droid repeated, as if also trying to remind herself of her name, her tone still jittery and robotic. "It is...pleasure..."

The crew was then gathered together to begin the tour of the ship. B-0 found herself tuning out again, not exactly interested in the logistics of the ship. Being a droid has it's downsides, but one of the perks was being able to record what the captain was saying for later listening. That was, if B-0 ever got around to listening. B-0 started caring even less when the captain began talking about bunk and cabins, something B-0 had little need for. Varen quickly drove this point home, instructing B-0 to remain in the cockpit at night.

The droid nodded in understanding, without really understanding why she was being instructed to do this. From what she could gather the cockpit was her cabin now, and that she was free to redecorate however she wanted. If the others were allowed to personalize their sleeping spaces she could too. Maybe she could convince the larger of the two twi'lek to get her one of those awesome hammocks.

The captain than asked if anyone had any questions, B-0 had none so she remained silent.

Dungeons and (Krayt) Dragons, Star Wars: The Price of Freedom

B-0s creators made her to be a protection droid, with the protocol additions being more of a second thought. But even with this, and her faulty obedience programming, B-0 knew it was rude to just grab someone by the face. Not only that but he looked over her as if she was a product in a store, and he was looking her over for bumps. And, admittedly, she had some bumps, it still felt wrong. Wrong, but not foreign. Yes, she had gone through similar inspection many times.

She searched through her memory banks and data storage, looking for the name of the emotion she was feeling. Anger? No, she had seen anger. Shop keepers overturning tables and destroying walls. Sadness? That didn't quite fit either. She knew sadness came from loss. A loved one gone, an illness crippling, a dropped ice cream cone. She felt a strange mix of both of these emotions, and she had never even tasted ice cream.

B-0 watched the introduction of the second twi'lek woman with little interest. Blue and feminine, still not the twi'lek she met on Tattooine. Not that it would matter if she knew the twi'lek, she had no tie to him. Perhaps it was her desire to show herself off as more than merchandise. Show people who had previously attempted to buy her that she was owned by no one. Well, technically her new caption owned her, but this fell more under employment than ownership.

Speaking of captain, he had again begun speaking. Saying that their time to abandon was over and that it was nearly time for their departure, but a tour of the ship would be in order. As well as introductions. The man then said something that settled strangely within the droid. Bo. A name she had been called once long ago, but it felt like such a small and insignificant detail in the droids life that it had been stored away. Instead of processing how this made B-0 feel the droid turned to the creature introduced as Baarsuth.

So he was the pilot and she was to be his third and fourth hands. Sounded completely fair to the little droid, as long as the guy didn't mind her not following any of his commands they would make a great team! He then began looking around and asking which of the crew was Bo. Was it not obvious? B-0 didn't mind this, and decided to introduce herself the only way she knew how.

There is a sudden and brief clicking noise from within B-0's chest. Like an old-timey jukebox switching songs. From the speaker under B-0s chin comes the sound of static crackling. After a moment of noisy silence a voice is suddenly heard. The voice of a child, slightly warped and crackling within the static.

"Buh...oh...Bow! Momma! Momma look on her side! It says Bow!"

Another voice is heard in the recording, another woman but this one much older. Her voice is kind and patient.

"Oh, dear. That is a code on her side. It would be Bee-Zero."

The child's voice returns.

"No! Momma it's her name! Her name is Bow! Like the bows I wear in my hair!"

There is the sound of laughter, which dissolves back to static. After another moment the static stops, abruptly. The Droid looks around at the small group, and raising a metallic hand with a squeak to point to herself. Out of the speaker in B-0s head comes another voice, this one much more synthetic with strange annunciations.

"Bo."