Dusty

Star Wars - Rise of Crusade

The Republic transport shuddered against moderate turbulence as the chaotic blue blur of hyperspace flashed by, duly illuminating the rows of viewports running down the vessel’s oblong hull. Halfway down the bulk Ranger engisn Syal Antilles, known by most as only Lysa Dunter stared out into the vast unknown that was hyperspace, suffering from the inescapable plague that befell so many soldiers. Boredom. For the past forty-eight hours she’d been trapped within the overcrowded transport, along with nearly two thousand other crew from the Third Republic fleet, flying nonstop from Corellia to Kuat. At first, she had tried to sleep the journey away, as she was technically an officer, albeit an ensign, afforded her some limited privacy. She’d been granted quarters separated from the bulk enlisted housing, shared with four other female ensigns. The treatment granted her the ability rest for hours at a time without being disturbed, but after nearly two days of constant bunk time the energetic young woman felt if she got any more sleep, she, might start tearing her own hair out. Instead, she distracted herself idly by the viewport cleaning her pistol for the third time.

“All personnel, please standby for the captain’s announcement.” A robotic feminine voice announced over the ship’s intercom. Syal glanced up from her polished barrel. Maybe they were getting close to their destination. She checked her chrono. Yes, they had been enroute for almost the entirety of the predicted forty-three-hour flight. She quickly began assembling her pistol as a more masculine, and organic voice replaced the first, reverberating across the entire transport. “We shall be reverting to realspace over Kuat in an estimated fifteen minutes. Have your equipment and belongings properly packed for safe airlock transfer. We will be docking onto the Defender first, followed by the Indomitable, the Mothma, the Mon Sasorra and finally the Ralroost. If you have been assigned to an escort corvette or gunboat please disembark at your vessel’s lead-ship. You will be transferred from there separately.” His piece said the captain cut off the intercom bringing silence back to the halls.

Syal glanced towards her small bag containing all her worldly goods. Most of which were her spare uniforms. She hadn’t unpacked, there had not been space or need too, which meant she had nothing to do for the next twenty minutes, plus however long it took to reach the Ralroost down at the end of the disembarking list. Sighing she began disassembling her pistol again. A loud knock on her cabin hatch distracted her. Weird Syal thought, normally her cabin mates just barged in unannounced. “Enter.” She said, curious as to who might be calling. The portal buzzed open and there stood a young man, roughly her age with wild dark hair and a Ranger’s indigo flight uniform. Now that piqued Syal’s interest. She had thought she was the only Ranger onboard. It was strange, that on such a cramped ship she could have missed his presence, but to be fair she’d spent most of the time in her cabin, leaving only for the refresher and meals.

“Mind if I come in?” He asked from the threshold. Syal affirmed her consent and he stepped inside. “It took me awhile to track you down, I only half believed it when I heard there was another Ranger pilot onboard.” He explained as he plopped down in the rack opposite her. He extended a hand which Syal shook. “Tiom Rordan, and you are…?”

“Lysa, Lysa Dunter” Syal answered quickly, using the name that she’d chosen to conceal her identity as daughter of one of the most famous pilots in the galaxy. The exchanged the usual pleasantries custom to Corellia. Finally, after a short pause Tiom brought up what they were both thinking.

“Assigned to the Swords as well I assume?”

“Vibrosword Twelve, that’s me.” Syal huffed, the low placing as number twelve marked her as a replacement, but only Tiom grinned.

“And I’m Sword Eleven, I guess that explains why were a both traveling from Corellia to Kuat. Though…” He paused, a light of confusion in his eyes. “I don’t remember you from the academy. Were you not in Boresk Training Company?”

Syal shook her head. The training companies were large, big enough that it was possible to not know everyone who participated but she recognized why they’d never met in an instant. “I was in Rondo Compony, a month behind yours.

“Oh,” he paused, and Syal knew what his next question would be before he spoke. “Why are you back from leave so early?”

The first awkward silence hung between them as Syal tried to determine that answer herself. Mixed feelings of betrayal, personal responsibility, selfish pride, and the unease of her somewhat precarious situation warred in her mind. All of it surmounted by the simple fact that she couldn’t tell this Tiom Rordan the truth. She fished desperately for a cover story, and decided on one that was close enough to the truth that she wouldn’t forget or flub the details in its no doubt numerous retellings. “I dunno,” she said at last. “Family trouble. And I guess I wanted to get into the action. No reason to sit around for a month doing nothing.”

He seemed to accept her vague explanation, and thankfully did not try and pry further. Instead, he surprised her with a different, rather candid point. “That wasn’t very smart of you.”

Slightly miffed Syal raised an eyebrow at the remark. “Really?”

Tiom held up his hands defensively. “That came out more insulting than it should have. Its just, I’ve been told Rangers don’t get two seconds of personal time after their first mission. We’ll be bounced from one end of the galaxy to the next solving disputes and fighting and helping. There’s a reason why they give us a month of personal time before deployment, that’s all.”

Frowning Syal considered his explanation. She’d heard similar rundowns of Ranger life from veterans, but she’d always thought they were exaggerating for effect. After over forty hours of doing nothing she felt she would appreciate some non-stop duties. Whatever the case it didn’t matter now, she’d already been deployed, and her days of leave were forfeit. Syal was saved a response when the blue swirl of hyperspace slowed and formed into a sea of tiny pinpricks of light against the inky blackness of eternity. For a moment the transport hung in space, and then the sublight engines kicked on and the ship lurched forward, making course for the large Mon Cal cruiser at the center of the Republic fleet. They had arrived at last!

Tiom jumped to his feet, an eager light in his eyes. “I need to go get my things. I almost forgot we were so close to Kuat. So, can I meet you again down in the airlock before we report to Squadron Leader Hardus? We might as well do it together. What’s your name again, Lysa right?”

Syal finished reassembling her pistol and shook his hand again. He seemed a good man. Eager to please and pleasant, if somewhat blunt about his thoughts and intentions. She found herself glad he’d sought her out before they arrived on the Ralroost. It gave them a bit of familiarity, and support. Two rookies who could learn the ropes together instead of being thrown to the wolves alone amidst an unfamiliar environment. “That’s right, I’m Lysa and you’re Tiom. See you down there, Ranger.”

He waved as he left, just as Syal’s three cabin mates returned last minute to collect their belongings. Syal checked her chrono again and was surprised to see the captain’s earlier estimate had been slightly off. It had been almost twenty minutes.

Star Wars - Rise of Crusade

The war behemoths of the Republic rested like slumbering whales, suspended within the void. There were near fifteen in total, and they made up a large proportion of the Third Republic Fleet assembling over the emerald green world of Kuat, halfway between the twin moons. They were a motley sort, so unlike the regimental ex imperial and First Order fleets where every ship was made and designed purpose built and symmetrical. Among the unregimented Republic forces Liberty Class Mon Cal ships drifted close to Nebulon-B frigates, intermingling with a pair of old Providence-class destroyers. Even a large, conspicuously out of place Victory-1 star destroyer hovered in close proximity to the centerpiece MC80 cruiser, from which Admiral Frimus Nantz flew his flag. In-between them all rested nearly thirty different support ships, corvettes and gunboats sticking close to their larger charges as a child would to a parent. There they waited patiently, just within Kuat’s gravity well for the remainder of the fleet to finish repairing and refitting in the great Kuati shipyards that ringed the ancient planet below.

One such ship, a sturdy Bothan Assault Cruiser, christened the Ralroost reclined against her mooring restraints as EV suited dock hands prepared the final touches for the ship’s release. She’d spent the last two months strapped down over Kuat, being refitted with shiny new guns, powerful shielding, and dedicated active and passive scanners. Meanwhile a full compliment of crew, nearly fifteen hundred in total had been arriving daily, filling the empty cabin space, and manning the necessary stations in preparation for lift off. Within Ralroost’s forward bridge a flurry of activity was taking place as new officers took their positions, running system checks and numerous checklists. At the center of it all Captain Traest Kre’fey stood ramrod straight, his hands clasped neatly behind his back in the perfect position of parade rest. Only his tufted ears moved, twitching this way and that as he observed the goings on. Nothing escaped his sharp hearing, and judgmental gaze, and more than one young officer felt the hair on the back of their neck stand straight when the violet eyes fixed on them. The bridge, and the rest of the larger crew were made up of a roughly even mixture of bothans and humans, with several other races mixed into the larger whole. They worked steadily, and Traest found himself unable to find complaint in their competency.

His veteran crew were largely dispersed after the Ralroost was decommissioned, and were spread out amongst the four Republic fleets or outright retired. Instead of the expert crewmen that’d served under him before, Traest found himself commanding a majority green crew, with only a spattering of aged familiar faces amongst the sea of youth. Circumstances as they were it was unavoidable, Traest had no one to blame but himself. Still, watching them at work lifted some of the anxiety he’d been feeling over the past week as the academy fresh officers had streamed aboard.

“Sir, the Yard is prepared to release tethers at your order.” A young bothan female, a junior grade lieutenant and his new communications officer swiveled in her chair to face Captain Kre’fey. One hand held ready on her headset to send the reply back to Yard Control.

The bothan gave the woman a slight incline of his head to show he’d heard and said. “Excellent lieutenant, inform them to standby and await instructions. Helm, fire repulserlifts and prepare for launch, five degree climbing gradient, ten percent forward thrust. Conversion, route power to the engines, and raise soft impact shields, Navigation route a course to put us alongside Starshield and Voidtrotter. Commander Jaeger, if you would be so kind, inform the crew, we’ll be departing in two minutes.”

“Yessir!” Came the chorus as the bridge made the last minute preparations.

The Ralroost roared to life, a tiny vibration could be felt underfoot as the engines provided life to the repulsers that would get them clear of the yard. At the command panel an older human male pressed a button, projecting his voice across the Ralroost to all the waiting crew. “All hands this is Commander Jaeger, prepare for launch within two minutes and standby for further orders.” Leaving the console Commander Sarl Jaeger joined Traest on the raised dais running between the two crew pits, folding his arms and letting his gaze wander the busy bridge. “They aren’t doing half bad for a bunch of freshies, I was right when I said you were underestimating them. Seems like you owe me a drink.”

The bothan Captain raised an eyebrow at his Executive Officer’s comment. The human was grinning, and although human expressions still mostly eluded Traest he knew a playful jab when he heard one. Sarl Jaeger was a longtime friend, and trusted right hand man, and perhaps the only being onboard the Ralroost who felt comfortable teasing the ship’s captain. Sarl was one of the few veterans Traest had insisted upon returning to his command. It had taken a considerable amount of string pulling, but in the end he had succeeded in getting Sarl as his EO once again. Traest spoke, a hint of humor in his tone. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself Commander? I would hardly consider this adequate evidence; we haven’t even left the docks yet.”

Sarl shrugged, noncommittedly. “Ah, perhaps sir. But I know a good bunch when I see them, they’ll prove me right in the end, just you watch. Isn’t that right Lieutenant Renwar?” The Commander’s gaze snap locked onto the Tactical Officer who’d been none to discreetly eavesdropping on his superior’s conversation.

The young man flushed bright red, a telltale sign of human embarrassment among other emotions Traest knew. “Yes sir, I mean, uh, sorry sirs.” Renwar stammered, uncertain what he should do under the fierce gaze of his leaders.

“Attend your station, lieutenant.” Traest’s tone carried a soft growl of warning, but little else. The kid was only just over two decades old, and unlike the rest of the bridge crew, tactical was the closest to the dais, with little to do other than watch and listen. Captain Kre’fey couldn’t really blame him for losing focus. Renwar stuttered a second apology and went back to monitoring his empty display screen.

Traest returned his attention to the forward viewport, everything was ready, and the silent countdown in his head ticked down to zero. “Are you ready, Commander?” He asked of his EO, the human was very pointedly not looking at him, his face twisted in barely controlled mirth.

It took an extra second for Sarl to recover but eventually he nodded. “At your command, Captain.”

“Very well. Comm, have us released.” The bothan at the communications station relayed the order, and a brief moment later a metallic clunk could be heard as the magnetic clamps holding the Ralroost in place released.

“We are free floating sir.” The bothan helmsman supplied before pressing the forward throttle. “Underway!”

Traest felt a small shift as the ship glided forward and the artificial gravity readjusted to their forward movement. At long last, after nearly four years he was back aboard his bridge. Surrounded by loyal men and women on a Republic warship, making course for the stars. The bothan inhaled the recycled air and released it with a grateful sigh. It had been far too long.

Star Wars - Rise of Crusade

Traest Kre'fey

Name: Captain Traest Kre’fey

Species: Bothan

Age: Forty-three

Appearance: A short, fuzzy creature Traest would not normally command the respect of his subordinates through appearance alone. Unlike most veteran officers who are large and domineering, he is small in stature, and although he stands ramrod straight, he barely clears a meter and half in total height. Traest however does not concern himself with such frivolous and unchangeable aspects. Aboard the bridge of his ship the white furred bothan demands respect and swift action, barking orders in a clear and concise manner, always maintaining an air calm control even in the worst of storms. Captain Kre’fey can always be found in the center of action, which is exactly where he wants to be. He commands the room, often running his claws through his silvery beard as he considers his options. Garbed in the usual uniform, a dark navy blue coat and trousers, decorated in a host of campaign ribbons and his silver officer bars. Overall Traset Kre’fey presents an almost endearing figure, if one could ignore the long fangs, and steely gaze. Most know better than to coo at the small bothan, and consider him either a dangerous foe, or a worthy ally. Kre’fey has forged his reputation through action and experience, and a sharp-eyed observer would take only a single glance to recognize the knowledge and grit that lies beneath.

Faction: New Republic/Republic Navy

Equipment: The Ralroost is a bothan assault cruiser, and Captain Kre’fey’s personal flag ship. Like its lead officer the vessel is smaller than the typical centerpiece cruiser but boasts a considerable combination of firepower and maneuverability and is not to be underestimated. She has weathered numerous battles, and after nearly fifteen years of service in both the Bothawui and New Republic navies and has undergone numerous upgrades and refitting. Nevertheless the Ralroost is still a formidable vessel, with long years of service left before her retirement. Besides his ship, Traest for the most part has a rather spartan outlook on life, keeping few personal possessions. Foremost among these however is his blaster pistol, which keeps an ever-present appearance at his hip, or resting on his bedside table.

Skills: As his status and rank within the Republic would imply Traest Kre’fey is an expert tactician. Since he was fifteen, he has been serving as an ensign aboard support frigates in the Rebellion and even commanding his own frigate during the waning years of the Empire. As a result, Kre’fey received very little formal military training, instead learning through the school of hard knocks. His tactics and strategies are based around facing superior foes, in both firepower and numbers, a trait he’s been forced to maintain due to the New Republic’s heavy demilitarization. He is most at home in hit and run battles, drawing the enemy in to finish them in a quick decisive victory.

Beyond Traest’s experience in fleet engagements the admiral has delved into other aspects of war including planetary invasions and internship firefights. He is a crack shot, and a surprisingly lethal warrior in close quarters, despite his smaller stature. The bothan has always been, and remains a skilled negotiator, mediating surrender deals, and handling both victory and defeat with all the grace of a gentleman. He spent nearly three years volunteering himself as a Republic representative to Bothawui in his brief retirement, which although he excelled in that field, he found it distasteful and soon returned to military service. Like most Bothans Traest has a knack for retaining important information, managing a long list of contacts, informants, and friends throughout the galaxy. Often his First Officer Commander Sarl has joked that wherever they go, there is always someone Kre’fey knows nearby. Finally, Kre’fey has an extraordinary ear for music, and even plays the Bothahorn, though rarely in public.

Weaknesses: The problem with being a lifelong soldier, is that there always needs to be a war to fight. The Republic has never been lacking in enemies, and yet peace can and has been negotiated without bloodshed. On many occasions Traest Kre’fey has been accused of being a warmonger, often unnecessarily provoking a fight when none was needed. As such Kre’fey carries a mixed reputation amongst the galactic populations, either as a war hero or a murderer and oftentimes as something in between. A fact that has garnered him a host of powerful enemies over the years. For the Republic and its Navy, they tend to keep Kre’fey at arm’s length. Recognizing him for his talents, but not fully condoning his practices. The bothan can be truly ruthless in battle, cunning and patient until he can force either surrender or death upon his enemies. Enacting either without hesitation, and with extreme prejudice. However, when left without some conflict or problem on which to focus his attentions Traest grows restless, pacing the decks and putting his crews through endless drills, offloading his frustration on his underlings.

History: For bothans, nepotism within the family and the clan are not only expected, but preferred as powerful bothans use their influence and connections push their children into better careers. For Traest Kre’fey the situation differed. His family had a history of martial education and although his father had been a respected officer, his recent defeats and humiliation left him without much political sway on Bothawui. Thus, Traest was shipped off to a less then reputable military academy, and was destined to be a lowly officer amongst the Bothawui defense fleet. Traest was a youth of ambition, and such a fate would never satisfy him. His tenure at the academy was short, as he focused his attentions instead on expanding his own prospects, which is how he came into contact with the Rebel Alliance. Lacking any true loyalty to the Rebellion’s cause young Kre’fey noted instead their aptitude to promote based on merit rather than nepotism like his own people, or species like the Empire. In short order Traest Kre’fey was an ensign aboard a support frigate at the ripe age of fifteen, and in a few quick years he was commanding his own vessel as the lead officer of a strike group. His abilities were noted, and he made numerous connections throughout the waning years of the Rebellion rising to the rank of Lieutenant Commander at the formation of the New Republic, recognized for his efforts at the Battle of Mardoora.

From there on out the young Bothan bounced his way across the galaxy as if determined to involve himself in every conflict that arose. He fought and defeated the Imperial forces over Mandalor, garnering for himself the title of Liberator, and yet another promotion. He was only twenty, and already a Commander, with a sizeable detachment at his beck and call. He would spend the next few years smashing extremists and pirates in the outer rim, hunting down Imperial enclaves until he was recalled to Chandrila at the start of the Separatist crisis. It is in this conflict that Traest saw the first blow to his reputation within the Republic. The newly minted Captain was largely to blame for Dalaa’s ease of framing the Republic and igniting the war. A mistake that nearly tarnished Kre’fey’s reputation permanently, but in true bothan fashion he clawed his way up from the foul repute, skillfully maneuvering himself to be the lead officer during the final confrontation against Dalaa. Despite his efforts in achieving victory, and the long list of successes he could never fully wash away the stain. His promotion to admiral, which once had seemed so close vanished as politics became involved. Moreover, the Republic had begun reforming its military, reigning in its officers, and using more bureaucratic and civilian oversight of the navy. Disgusted by the shackles forced upon him Kre’fey retired from military service, instead using his connections to get a comfy position as the Bothawui representative in the senate. His political career did not last long. Despite his evident skills as a negotiator Traest absolutely despised the climate within the Republic senate, and the inefficiency of the bureaucracy. Deciding he would rather be an admiral with restrictions, than a representative in the swamp Kre’fey recommissioned as an Fleet Captain in the Republic Navy, reclaiming his place on the bridge of his beloved Ralroost.

Syal Antilles

Name: Syal Antilles / Lysa Dunter

Species: Human/Corillian

Age: Twenty

Appearance: A lithe young woman Syal Antilles has always been athletic, and easy on the eyes. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a fair demeanor she has been pursued by her fair share of potential suiters. For her part Syal has never been interested in settling down. Her father instilled in her a love for flying and adventure, and ever since she could first pilot her small child sized speeder her face and hair have almost always been wild and windswept, like she just landed after a particularly daring ride. Although appearing dainty and fragile in the eyes of her family and friends, she proved herself tough enough to make it through the trials of Ranger training, and the rigorous courses of flight school. Dressed up in her navy blue flight suit Syal presents the perfect picture of willing eagerness, always anxious to be in the know and underway. Syal bears a great deal of confidence in the way she talks and acts, having inherited this trait from her father, and not without good reason. She excels in her chosen line of work and has always been the de facto leader of her friend groups, and fellow cadets. At the end of the day Syal is a bold leader, a loving daughter, and beautiful young woman, ready and willing to carve her own name into the galactic histories like her father before her.

Faction: Alliance Rangers

Equipment: Like many freshly trained Ranger pilots Syal possess only the most basic second hand gear, which makes up her service kit. Unlike most other Rangers however Syal has been assigned a new ETA-5 A-Wing Class interceptor. A state of the art light attack fighter, designed for short ranged interception and escort missions.

Skills: Syal is a pilot, and a damned good one. Although all Rangers undergo multiple levels of specialized training Syal was dedicated into a quick response flight team. Able to fly, land, and recover injured or dead Rangers whose missions went wrong. Her unit is also capable of escorting harried personnel through hostile environments, fending off pirates or other enemy contacts. She is a trained medic and first responder, and although untested in the crucible of a true mission Syal is more than confident in her learned abilities. Furthermore, Syal has been developing her talents in spacecraft hardware, and although she is no mechanic, she is more then capable of doing a significant amount of preventive maintenance beyond what is normally required.

Weaknesses: For the longest time Syal Antilles lived a life of ease and plenty. Her father was a war hero, her mother the same but slightly less recognized and in the cities of Corellia they lived in comfort. By account of her name alone Syal was almost immediately recognizable and it burned her to think she would be riding the coattails of her father to success. Subsequently upon enlisting with the Rangers she changed her name to Lysa Dunter, determined to forge her own way through life. This goes deeper unfortunately, as Lysa is determined to not be handed anything for free. Reluctant to accept help of any kind, and determined to ensure nothing is simply handed too her that she did not earn. Moreover she technically lied in her paperwork, meaning if her secret ever came to light it could bring serious repercussions even her famous lineage might not be able to fix, effectively cutting her off from her family. Her concern over being discovered clashes with her desire to stand out amongst the crowd, a difficult path she created for herself, and one she must come to terms with if she wishes to succeed within the Alliance Rangers.

History:
Syal Antilles could have been many things. She had the education to be an officer, the wit and education to enter politics, or even the opportunity to engage in a thousand different respectable, and most importantly safe careers open to a young adult of her heritage and ability. For all her short years Syal longed for the stars, and the excitement of adventure, to make her mark upon the galaxy. Her father Wedge Antilles, hero of the Rebel Alliance and Republic was guilty of encouraging the behavior. Although he did his duty trying to convince her to become a doctor, or some other field not dominated by bloodshed and strife he did so halfheartedly. She had always been a well-mannered, if somewhat mischievous young girl but it still came as a shock when, on her seventeenth year she snuck away and joined the Alliance Rangers as a galactic peacekeeper under the false moniker of Lysa Dunter.

She did well in her training, and in a few short years specialized into the position of a pilot. A somewhat mysterious, but well-liked cadet who took her duties and lessons seriously. The Rangers needed people, especially bright young firebrands like Lysa so they accepted her less then truthful answers willingly. They were a motley bunch in of themselves, hosting members from all walks of life and if one could pass the exams, and fulfill the requirements the Rangers didn’t much care.

After three long years Lysa Dunter was deemed ready for active service, and was given a month off to visit family if she so desired. Careful to give anything away Syal contacted her family, ensuring them of her wellbeing, only to discover her father knew of her whereabouts and condition. He had been keeping track of her progress through some undisclosed sources much to Syal’s chagrin, though he ensured her she was receiving no special treatment. Unconvinced Syal closed off the communication, upset that some unknown person or persons were keeping tabs on her. Determined to not let this unwelcome news ruin her personal success Lysa returned to the duty station early to report and receive her orders. She got an assignment surprisingly quickly, within a half hour to be precise. She was to leave at once and board a transport shuttle traveling to the Republic Ship Ralroost, and report to a Ranger Squadron Leader by the name of Varus Hardos, of Vibrosword Squadron. There she would receive further mission details. Shocked, but not altogether disappointed Lysa rushed to catch the departing shuttle, joining with other Republic and Ranger personal on their way to the Ralroost and the mysterious mission that awaited them.

Star Wars - Rise of Crusade

@Sep I finally got them done. I understand you had some trepidations about canon and originals, but hopefully everything will be acceptable. Of course, they aren't exactly the same as their canon counterparts, having some striking differences beside ages and histories, but I felt it was appropriate considering the adjusted timeline.

Traest Kre'fey

Name: Captain Traest Kre’fey

Species: Bothan

Age: Forty-three

Appearance: A short, fuzzy creature Traest would not normally command the respect of his subordinates through appearance alone. Unlike most veteran officers who are large and domineering, he is small in stature, and although he stands ramrod straight, he barely clears a meter and half in total height. Traest however does not concern himself with such frivolous and unchangeable aspects. Aboard the bridge of his ship the white furred bothan demands respect and swift action, barking orders in a clear and concise manner, always maintaining an air calm control even in the worst of storms. Captain Kre’fey can always be found in the center of action, which is exactly where he wants to be. He commands the room, often running his claws through his silvery beard as he considers his options. Garbed in the usual uniform, a dark navy blue coat and trousers, decorated in a host of campaign ribbons and his silver officer bars. Overall Traset Kre’fey presents an almost endearing figure, if one could ignore the long fangs, and steely gaze. Most know better than to coo at the small bothan, and consider him either a dangerous foe, or a worthy ally. Kre’fey has forged his reputation through action and experience, and a sharp-eyed observer would take only a single glance to recognize the knowledge and grit that lies beneath.

Faction: New Republic/Republic Navy

Equipment: The Ralroost is a bothan assault cruiser, and Captain Kre’fey’s personal flag ship. Like its lead officer the vessel is smaller than the typical centerpiece cruiser but boasts a considerable combination of firepower and maneuverability and is not to be underestimated. She has weathered numerous battles, and after nearly fifteen years of service in both the Bothawui and New Republic navies and has undergone numerous upgrades and refitting. Nevertheless the Ralroost is still a formidable vessel, with long years of service left before her retirement. Besides his ship, Traest for the most part has a rather spartan outlook on life, keeping few personal possessions. Foremost among these however is his blaster pistol, which keeps an ever-present appearance at his hip, or resting on his bedside table.

Skills: As his status and rank within the Republic would imply Traest Kre’fey is an expert tactician. Since he was fifteen, he has been serving as an ensign aboard support frigates in the Rebellion and even commanding his own frigate during the waning years of the Empire. As a result, Kre’fey received very little formal military training, instead learning through the school of hard knocks. His tactics and strategies are based around facing superior foes, in both firepower and numbers, a trait he’s been forced to maintain due to the New Republic’s heavy demilitarization. He is most at home in hit and run battles, drawing the enemy in to finish them in a quick decisive victory.

Beyond Traest’s experience in fleet engagements the admiral has delved into other aspects of war including planetary invasions and internship firefights. He is a crack shot, and a surprisingly lethal warrior in close quarters, despite his smaller stature. The bothan has always been, and remains a skilled negotiator, mediating surrender deals, and handling both victory and defeat with all the grace of a gentleman. He spent nearly three years volunteering himself as a Republic representative to Bothawui in his brief retirement, which although he excelled in that field, he found it distasteful and soon returned to military service. Like most Bothans Traest has a knack for retaining important information, managing a long list of contacts, informants, and friends throughout the galaxy. Often his First Officer Commander Sarl has joked that wherever they go, there is always someone Kre’fey knows nearby. Finally, Kre’fey has an extraordinary ear for music, and even plays the Bothahorn, though rarely in public.

Weaknesses: The problem with being a lifelong soldier, is that there always needs to be a war to fight. The Republic has never been lacking in enemies, and yet peace can and has been negotiated without bloodshed. On many occasions Traest Kre’fey has been accused of being a warmonger, often unnecessarily provoking a fight when none was needed. As such Kre’fey carries a mixed reputation amongst the galactic populations, either as a war hero or a murderer and oftentimes as something in between. A fact that has garnered him a host of powerful enemies over the years. For the Republic and its Navy, they tend to keep Kre’fey at arm’s length. Recognizing him for his talents, but not fully condoning his practices. The bothan can be truly ruthless in battle, cunning and patient until he can force either surrender or death upon his enemies. Enacting either without hesitation, and with extreme prejudice. However, when left without some conflict or problem on which to focus his attentions Traest grows restless, pacing the decks and putting his crews through endless drills, offloading his frustration on his underlings.

History: For bothans, nepotism within the family and the clan are not only expected, but preferred as powerful bothans use their influence and connections push their children into better careers. For Traest Kre’fey the situation differed. His family had a history of martial education and although his father had been a respected officer, his recent defeats and humiliation left him without much political sway on Bothawui. Thus, Traest was shipped off to a less then reputable military academy, and was destined to be a lowly officer amongst the Bothawui defense fleet. Traest was a youth of ambition, and such a fate would never satisfy him. His tenure at the academy was short, as he focused his attentions instead on expanding his own prospects, which is how he came into contact with the Rebel Alliance. Lacking any true loyalty to the Rebellion’s cause young Kre’fey noted instead their aptitude to promote based on merit rather than nepotism like his own people, or species like the Empire. In short order Traest Kre’fey was an ensign aboard a support frigate at the ripe age of fifteen, and in a few quick years he was commanding his own vessel as the lead officer of a strike group. His abilities were noted, and he made numerous connections throughout the waning years of the Rebellion rising to the rank of Lieutenant Commander at the formation of the New Republic, recognized for his efforts at the Battle of Mardoora.

From there on out the young Bothan bounced his way across the galaxy as if determined to involve himself in every conflict that arose. He fought and defeated the Imperial forces over Mandalor, garnering for himself the title of Liberator, and yet another promotion. He was only twenty, and already a Commander, with a sizeable detachment at his beck and call. He would spend the next few years smashing extremists and pirates in the outer rim, hunting down Imperial enclaves until he was recalled to Chandrila at the start of the Separatist crisis. It is in this conflict that Traest saw the first blow to his reputation within the Republic. The newly minted Captain was largely to blame for Dalaa’s ease of framing the Republic and igniting the war. A mistake that nearly tarnished Kre’fey’s reputation permanently, but in true bothan fashion he clawed his way up from the foul repute, skillfully maneuvering himself to be the lead officer during the final confrontation against Dalaa. Despite his efforts in achieving victory, and the long list of successes he could never fully wash away the stain. His promotion to admiral, which once had seemed so close vanished as politics became involved. Moreover, the Republic had begun reforming its military, reigning in its officers, and using more bureaucratic and civilian oversight of the navy. Disgusted by the shackles forced upon him Kre’fey retired from military service, instead using his connections to get a comfy position as the Bothawui representative in the senate. His political career did not last long. Despite his evident skills as a negotiator Traest absolutely despised the climate within the Republic senate, and the inefficiency of the bureaucracy. Deciding he would rather be an admiral with restrictions, than a representative in the swamp Kre’fey recommissioned as an Fleet Captain in the Republic Navy, reclaiming his place on the bridge of his beloved Ralroost.

Syal Antilles

Name: Syal Antilles / Lysa Dunter

Species: Human/Corillian

Age: Twenty

Appearance: A lithe young woman Syal Antilles has always been athletic, and easy on the eyes. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a fair demeanor she has been pursued by her fair share of potential suiters. For her part Syal has never been interested in settling down. Her father instilled in her a love for flying and adventure, and ever since she could first pilot her small child sized speeder her face and hair have almost always been wild and windswept, like she just landed after a particularly daring ride. Although appearing dainty and fragile in the eyes of her family and friends, she proved herself tough enough to make it through the trials of Ranger training, and the rigorous courses of flight school. Dressed up in her navy blue flight suit Syal presents the perfect picture of willing eagerness, always anxious to be in the know and underway. Syal bears a great deal of confidence in the way she talks and acts, having inherited this trait from her father, and not without good reason. She excels in her chosen line of work and has always been the de facto leader of her friend groups, and fellow cadets. At the end of the day Syal is a bold leader, a loving daughter, and beautiful young woman, ready and willing to carve her own name into the galactic histories like her father before her.

Faction: Alliance Rangers

Equipment: Like many freshly trained Ranger pilots Syal possess only the most basic second hand gear, which makes up her service kit. Unlike most other Rangers however Syal has been assigned a new ETA-5 A-Wing Class interceptor. A state of the art light attack fighter, designed for short ranged interception and escort missions.

Skills: Syal is a pilot, and a damned good one. Although all Rangers undergo multiple levels of specialized training Syal was dedicated into a quick response flight team. Able to fly, land, and recover injured or dead Rangers whose missions went wrong. Her unit is also capable of escorting harried personnel through hostile environments, fending off pirates or other enemy contacts. She is a trained medic and first responder, and although untested in the crucible of a true mission Syal is more than confident in her learned abilities. Furthermore, Syal has been developing her talents in spacecraft hardware, and although she is no mechanic, she is more then capable of doing a significant amount of preventive maintenance beyond what is normally required.

Weaknesses: For the longest time Syal Antilles lived a life of ease and plenty. Her father was a war hero, her mother the same but slightly less recognized and in the cities of Corellia they lived in comfort. By account of her name alone Syal was almost immediately recognizable and it burned her to think she would be riding the coattails of her father to success. Subsequently upon enlisting with the Rangers she changed her name to Lysa Dunter, determined to forge her own way through life. This goes deeper unfortunately, as Lysa is determined to not be handed anything for free. Reluctant to accept help of any kind, and determined to ensure nothing is simply handed too her that she did not earn. Moreover she technically lied in her paperwork, meaning if her secret ever came to light it could bring serious repercussions even her famous lineage might not be able to fix, effectively cutting her off from her family. Her concern over being discovered clashes with her desire to stand out amongst the crowd, a difficult path she created for herself, and one she must come to terms with if she wishes to succeed within the Alliance Rangers.

History:
Syal Antilles could have been many things. She had the education to be an officer, the wit and education to enter politics, or even the opportunity to engage in a thousand different respectable, and most importantly safe careers open to a young adult of her heritage and ability. For all her short years Syal longed for the stars, and the excitement of adventure, to make her mark upon the galaxy. Her father Wedge Antilles, hero of the Rebel Alliance and Republic was guilty of encouraging the behavior. Although he did his duty trying to convince her to become a doctor, or some other field not dominated by bloodshed and strife he did so halfheartedly. She had always been a well-mannered, if somewhat mischievous young girl but it still came as a shock when, on her seventeenth year she snuck away and joined the Alliance Rangers as a galactic peacekeeper under the false moniker of Lysa Dunter.

She did well in her training, and in a few short years specialized into the position of a pilot. A somewhat mysterious, but well-liked cadet who took her duties and lessons seriously. The Rangers needed people, especially bright young firebrands like Lysa so they accepted her less then truthful answers willingly. They were a motley bunch in of themselves, hosting members from all walks of life and if one could pass the exams, and fulfill the requirements the Rangers didn’t much care.

After three long years Lysa Dunter was deemed ready for active service, and was given a month off to visit family if she so desired. Careful to give anything away Syal contacted her family, ensuring them of her wellbeing, only to discover her father knew of her whereabouts and condition. He had been keeping track of her progress through some undisclosed sources much to Syal’s chagrin, though he ensured her she was receiving no special treatment. Unconvinced Syal closed off the communication, upset that some unknown person or persons were keeping tabs on her. Determined to not let this unwelcome news ruin her personal success Lysa returned to the duty station early to report and receive her orders. She got an assignment surprisingly quickly, within a half hour to be precise. She was to leave at once and board a transport shuttle traveling to the Republic Ship Ralroost, and report to a Ranger Squadron Leader by the name of Varus Hardos, of Vibrosword Squadron. There she would receive further mission details. Shocked, but not altogether disappointed Lysa rushed to catch the departing shuttle, joining with other Republic and Ranger personal on their way to the Ralroost and the mysterious mission that awaited them.

Star Wars - Rise of Crusade

Y'all seem to still be going, I've finally had a bit of free time and put together my characters.@Sep Am I safe to assume you are still accepting?

Star Wars - Rise of Crusade (AU)

I didn't really have anyone specific in mind at the moment, but characters such as Jacen or Jaina Solo, or maybe Syal Antilles. Big names like those from legends.

Star Wars - Rise of Crusade (AU)

Well I'm hooked. One question however, will we be restricted to OCs, or are cannon characters an option?

Star Wars: The High Republic – The Bunum Impasse [CLOSED]

I like Garner’s haughtiness! He seems full of himself in the way a lot of younger people are when they’re not quite self-aware of their flaws and foibles—it’s very true-to-life! I particularly love that he’s putting on airs—his character feels youthful in a really genuine (if awkward to live through) way.

@Fiscbryne

Thank you. I'm glad you noticed. I've been itching to try my hand at a realistic child character again, as I find them significantly more challenging. So hopefully Garner proves to be a success on that front. Anyway, anything you'd like changed with the CS?

Star Wars: The High Republic – The Bunum Impasse [CLOSED]

I took the liberty of matching y'alls formatting.

Garner Lonan

GARNER LONAN

Padawan Learner

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Appearance:
If the inquiry were posed to Garner, that he put to words his own physical appearance the poor boy might appear flustered, and begin fidgeting nervously with his azure sash. He would consider each word with care, before describing himself on the smaller side for an adolescent of thirteen standard years, yet with plenty of years to grow. Bearing a round, boyish face just beginning to sprout fuzz along his upper lip, and a head of golden hair. He would explain how he keeps this hair trimmed short, leaving only a small portion long enough for a learner’s braid tucked behind his left ear, in the customary fashion of a Jedi apprentice. He would pause here is his description, before continuing onto the less uncontrollable aspects of his being lest he appear boastful. Jedi shouldn’t brag, but he did take special care. All force sensitive Initiates, padawans and beyond at the Jedi Temple were expected to keep themselves clean, and well groomed, but Garner had always been particular about his appearance. Keeping his garments in proper order, in a manner befitting a Jedi master. He’d read before, that one should dress according to the station they desired, and he knew he required every advantage he could scrounge if he wished to continue as an apprentice, let alone becoming a full Jedi knight.

His self description concluded he would stare back upon the asker inquisitively with his wide green eyes, wondering if this was some sort of test. Anxiously awaiting whether his self-depiction was adequate, or if he’d forgotten anything important. A sharp observer, upon closer inspection would be able to note upon several inadequacies in the boy’s report; though at no fault to Garner. After all, the more subtle parts of one’s physical appearance can easily be overlooked on mere self-reflection. Such as the proud jut of his chin, or the steely determination in his stance, or even the perpetual curiosity in his eyes. They could even remark on how he shadowed his master Ange Gelegenheit, drinking in every word she spoke as if it were gospel, though rarely voicing his burning questions unless prompted. The boy tended to take everything a bit too seriously, presenting himself as the perfect picture of stern Jedi stoicism, making him easy prey to the more comedic attitude of his mentor, whether that be her gentle teasing, or practical jokes. She seemed particularly adept at breaking his rigid “perfect apprentice” persona, relaxing him in both mind and posture.

All this acknowledged most inquirers would simply accept Garner’s words as sufficient to their initial request, keeping their own deeper observations to themselves, unsaid.

Lightsaber/other personal effects:
Garner’s Jedi weapon is of rudimentary design, but quite new having recently been fashioned and rarely utilized for anything besides customary training. The hilt is constructed from burnished bronze, and dark leather wrappings along the grip. The saber is brought together around an indigo crystal which projects a blade of brilliant royal blue. Like most Jedi, Garner is lacking in affects other than his lightsaber and the force, however he is not often seen without his nose stuck in some book or datapad. He just so happened to bring three of such items along during his most recent mission. He stores them in his cabin space, often perusing the written works in his limited free time. Whether they be treatises on the force, knowledge on practical skills, or merely a work of fiction that caught his interest, Garner has always been an adamant reader.

Personality:
A general rule for Jedi taking on the responsibility of a new apprentice was to study their young charge and evaluate them closely. To deeply understand their student, how they thought and acted, and interacted with others. For Jedi Knight Ange Gelegenheit, she saw a great many things in her Padawan to be, Garner Lonan. She saw an inquisitive mind, ready to ask and yet hidden behind a veil of social hesitation. Trapped within a web of anxiety and a determination to never fail or appear inadequate. A great many Jedi Knights passed over initiate Garner for a potential padawan, perhaps sensing this unhealthy combination, and not wishing to embrace the challenge that it presented. Only further frustrating Garner during the Choosing, and only perpetuating the destructive cycle. She recognized an unwavering pride in his work and his appearance, perhaps to the point of vanity, but Ange knew she could direct that ego towards a healthy conduit. Fashioning the youth into a proper Jedi of humility and honor. Lastly, she spotted what all the other Jedi Knights had missed. They, having passed over Garner for other Initiates to train feared he simply did not have the power in the force to become a full knight of the order. Ange on the other hand saw a young mind, filled with all the necessary knowledge and determination, just waiting for someone to teach him.

Ange knew in accepting she would be stepping into a challenge. Garner’s tendencies to focus on never making an error left him little room to fail. At least in his mind. He had inadvertently set himself up for greater failure. He could not hope to match a Jedi master, and yet he strove to prove he could. Ange recalled from her own training years how destructive this mentality could be. After all, what was success but learning from a hundred failed attempts? To teach him acceptance of his shortcomings and allow himself to learn from them, she would first have to break his shell. To be the standard that let him shed his anxiety and fear of inadequacy and laugh. Not only at himself, but at world around him. Fortunately for Garner, Ange had tremendous experience on this front and was more than confident that she could instill a sense of humor into her serious-minded young padawan. Yes, tutoring Garner would be a significant task indeed, but one she could surmount, one step at a time.

View of the Force:
The Force is a Book. A great and ancient tome more like, filled from page to page in power, adventure, sorrow, love, and regret. One must simply blow away the dust and turn the page to find their answers.

Backstory:
For Garner his story always began at the Jedi Temple, amongst the members of his Initiate Clan. He knew he came from a colonial planet called Farstine, but like most force sensitives discovered by the Jedi order he was taken well before any proper memories could be made. He could not recall the mother who birthed him, or the father who named him and such inquiries were discouraged for future padawans. Thus, Garner never made a greater effort to discover these answers, and only vague feelings of his life prior to the temple remain. His time in the creche was not an unhappy one. Much of the younglings early lives were spent in studies, necessary for a Jedi to operate as a galactic peacekeepers. Culture, history, languages, mathematics, and so on all came to Garner easily. Although he lagged somewhat behind the other Initiates in his force abilities and saber skills, he managed to keep pace through raw determination, and his nimble intellect. Garner fantasized himself to one day be a powerful, respected Jedi and dedicated himself to that image, putting in the extra effort to become an apprentice to a respected Jedi master. However, as the years passed, and the time of Choosing drew closer the gap between those few initiate clan members who might be chosen, and those who would be sent on to the Service Corps grew ever larger.

Most Initiates lacked what it took to become a Jedi, only a few would ever become padawans and even less would succeed at knighthood. An ever-present possibility, which seemed more likely to be reality by the day. Despite Garner’s best efforts he could not lift multiple objects like Da’shan, or wield a lightsaber with Sadina’s grace, and one by one the Jedi looking to take on apprentices passed him by for more talented students. Knowledge and practical skills only took one so far amongst the Jedi, and the force remained the key factor, and Garner’s bane. It is not an easy thing for the boy to admit, but he shed many frustrated tears in the study halls and his dormitory, pouring over documents and books and datapads, struggling to find the secret to unblock his pathway into the force. He could not accept failure, again and again without a sense of hopelessness setting in. He simply went through the motions, struggling to attune his senses to little avail. The number of Initiates in his clan dwindled, most accepting their fate and going on to join the Service Corps or reconnect with their families, with a precious few being selected as padawan learners. Until at last, Garner was alone, the final one not chosen, and yet refusing to be sent off and never to become a Jedi.

Of course, he could not remain in the creche forever. His chances were dwindling, and soon the decision would be made for him. On the eve of that ultimatum a lone Jedi Knight, by the name of Ange Gelegenheit offered to evaluate him, and Garner accepted the invitation with trepid resignation. He had failed a dozen times, what chance did he truly have at success? Nevertheless he threw his all into the challenge, gritting his teeth against the disappointment he was sure to face. Ange was a young Jedi, having only passed the trials several years prior and was seeking her first student. A challenge, she had not anticipated to be so difficult. Ange had always been good at seeing potential, whether that be a droid she was tinkering on, or one of the Initiates during evaluation, and she despised turning away so many bright young persons who lacked true force ability. The weight of denial grew heavy upon her mind, for every initiate she refused. As such she had been watching young Garner for some time, unwilling to evaluate him for fear of having to refuse him as well. She was ever observant to when others faltered or gave in the boy only seemed to double his efforts. Those others lacked a clear vision of the force. In Garner on the other hand, she saw his strength, but the tragedy was that he could not. Or at least not yet. She felt his growing frustration, the bitter chalice of defeat from which he drank and knew she could not let such possibilities go to waste. In unusual fashion she knelt beside the boy and asked of his studies, listening to his clear descriptions of what he desired to do, and all the knowledge he had ascertained from his reading. He spoke of the stories, and how the great Jedi would reach for the force and see it clearly, and that when he looked he saw only shadows. Then Ange knew, and she smiled. With gentle teasing, some rather un-jedi-like jokes, and careful misdirection she broke the mask of seriousness and composure Garner wore, leading him to a cleared and relaxed body and mind. She then asked Garner to close his eyes, and to focus on the force, and read it like one of his stories. And for Garner, that was when it all clicked.

At long last, through sweat and tears and a little bit of help Garner succeeded. He completed his evaluation and joined the ranks of Padawans, although slightly behind his peers. He would travel with his master to Ilum to construct his own lightsaber, and begin his long and arduous journey to becoming a full Jedi Knight! Ange would remain a constant presence at his side, through their first simplistic missions as a Jedi team, reminding him that Jedi were did not always have to be so stoic, and stern. That he could, and should laugh and smile on occasion. Her encouragement and patience led Garner to believe he might truly have a chance at becoming a Jedi knight. That was, until the unthinkable occurred less than six months later. When Ange Gelegenheit perished in a horrific crash upon the planet Bunum, leaving her barely initiated padawan lost, without a master once again.

Star Wars: The High Republic – The Bunum Impasse [CLOSED]

@Fiscbryne If I may, where will the RP be starting out at? Right after the crash, directly before, a bit after? I'm just interested so I can accurately determine how much I add to the backstory.