TheWatchDog

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

A Serpent Among the buzzards.

Pestage's Folly

My Hider

"She's late…" Grumbled Phasma who was standing next to the very person who had so arrogantly summoned Miryia. The man next to her chuckled, raising his gloved hand. He stared out into the distance, seeing the speeders and the occasional TIE Interceptor zoom by. He couldn't help but smile as the anticipation built. There was a part of him that wanted to measure her reaction. Their race, after all was well-known for their sense of superiority. To use something Miryia had marked as 'servant' was a direct challenge to her authority and power. Something this particular officer had purposefully done. Not as part of some grand strategy, but simply for his own amusement. His counterpart though, didn't share his sentiment. Phasma, who came from a world where she had been crowned the leader of her clan after her many victories saw Miryia as an outsider and the fact that her boss had called upon her as part of one of his games annoyed her. She was deeply loyal to him, not because she was his underling, but because of what he had done for her in the past.

"Patience. She knows. And that, I think, makes it all the more exciting." The man giggled, making Phasma roll her eyes. There were times where she couldn't simply stand him. He was a brilliant strategist and spy, but an awful companion.

"Have you considered she might just hurl you into the Coruscant Underground?" Phasma said, staring back at him in an effort to wipe the grin from his face. That, only made him smile even more.

"I'm too useful." He said, placing his hands together in front of him, stroking his palms. "Regardless of her opinion of me, I'm too big of an asset. And if my theory is correct…"

"You will join her?"

"And you won't?" He finally turned to Phasma, his smile fading as she turned away instinctively. There was no doubt in his mind that he was correct, and he wouldn't allow Phasma to say otherwise or put into question her loyalty to him. Pestage's days were numbered and whether he died now or later was just a matter of time.

"I spoke out of line, sir."
Her words made the man scoff. There was nothing he hated more than insubordination. Phasma was a good soldier, but too focused on her own loyalty to the Empire for her own good. He would have to deal with that later.

"I expect better of you, Phasma. But you always do right for me, don't you?" He said, speaking softly. Though, the words doubled as a threat.
"Yes, sir."

"Excellent."
The man looks up, the grin on his face appearing again as he spots a luxury speeder approaching in the distance. As the speeder comes closer, Miryia is able to spot two figures. One, a female in a white and black ISB uniform. Next to her is a male who is shorter than her. He too is wearing the black and white uniform of the Bureau. When the speeder gets closer, she manages to make out the male figure better.

It's a Bothan…

@Honesty Crow

Coruscant



"Was, was that where you grew up?" One of the regular soldier's had asked the Arkanian who was lazing on the heated sofa within the covered Speeder's interior, she was sat coiled, with her feet tucked up to her posterior, an elbow resting on a window, her cheek lazily resting in a fist as she gazed out the window. Ahead of them a palace only slightly smallar than Xizors great home rose with a cathedral like spire lancing at the skies. The banners that billowed in the winds about its parapets were the symbols of the Empire and below it, a hilux made of aurodium and silver, around it were coiled two Arkanian Dragons, one devouring, the other consuming. The symbol of House Janus, who while reduced in power since the ascent of humanocentric politics and the New Order, was still as a force. A force that would inevitably return to its prominence, just as its serpentine daughter would.

"Watch your place!" The adept snapped before whimpering into silence at the withering gaze of the purple eyed woman. A gaze, reinforced by a slow, predatory smile. "I grew up in a palace on Alsakan, not even Arkania proper. In another life, in an age where beaten curr knew their place.."

The rest of the trip was passed in silence, but for an occasional observation she'd make to the soldiers, making them aware her disgust and discontent was with the Inquisitor and not them, even though they had the look of two rats ensnared by a Cobra's eyes.



As they edged closer to the proud dome that rose like a mushroom cloud from the upper levels of the Galaxy's "Jewel", Miryia's eyes flickered contemptuously. That looked like one of Masters Oort's designs, the damn cephalopod like Jedi Master was obsessed with what he'd called Natural architecture and she recalled, before she'd slaughtered most of the Jedi Council and framed the Sith, that the Republic had been considering his obscene designs as a replacement for the Senate building that had been blasted into its constituent Atoms when a Hypermatter bomb delivered by a mindslaved suicide bomber under the influence of Darth Ruin. For the first eighty seven years of the war Miryia had done all that she could to delay the construction of the new Senate building due to believing the resources would be needed for the war effort, for in the early days, the mad man's legions had come ever closer to overcoming the Republic wholesale. As the war raged on and she understood her purpose, she delayed it's construction solely because it weakened the Senate in the eyes of the Galaxy and strengthened the Jedi. She made an approximation of a disappointed sigh, much had transpired that she had not intended to transpire, too long, too long had she slept. Below them, a myriad of lights and sounded rose up to meet the ever whirring sound of the speeders and mas transit vehicles and Miryia extended her awareness, allowing her Jedi senses to take in the full measure of the planet's biodiversity, its sprawling trillion souls. in a way she pitied the Inquisitor, who was so thoroughly inferior she had only begun to manipulate the raw essence of the force in any manner resembling skill, skill enough to simply enjoy the chorus of souls, souls that could just as easily be made to scream out an overture as they were to cheer it. It wouldn't be hard, merely focusing on a single one of those pathetic cattle down there would be sufficient to destroy them utterly and yet she held herself above such visceral indulgences, there was no satisfaction to be had from butchering babies for the sheer sake of it.

As they reached the senate buildings landing area, the Jedi brought herself back into focus. eyes narrowing on the visage of what passed for a welcoming party. Two figures include in the black and white of Imperial intelligence, one a human whose aura wreaked of DNA galvanized by radiation, though she wasn't certain why. She was tall, immensely tall and broad chested, but otherwise looked so unremarkable as to be confused for a member of a hermaphroditic species and beside her a Bothan who bore the superior rank? now that did intrigue her. The first orders bigotry was in many cases not without merit but in the case of humanocentrism it was adorably ignorant. Humans were a superior species solely by virtue of their ability to breed like rabbits and procreate with anything that had a pulse. Their genetic malleability created some of the greatest force wielders in history and simultaneously some of the worst. Bothans were skilled in the art of statecraft and in espionage, the Cervids were an invaluable asset to the Rebel alliance near as she could tell and disenfranchising most of them from their trades of choice was a fools motion. As the Speeder landed, a glint in the Bothan's eyes suggested he was curious, amused and more than a little confident. Had he been the one to send beasts of the field to retrieve her?

When the doors opened the only indication of her annoyance was that the Inquisitor who left the vehicle first as if to act as an escort yelped in pain as she was forced onto a bended knee, her head compelled down, one hand forced to her breast, the other fist towards the ground in supplication. The woman glided passed her, pausing only to turn her head, ever so lightly "Your sort, do not even merit the honor of walking in the shadows of your betters, I will hold you there until I am out of sight. You will learn your place, or you will have none"

The tall woman seemed to regard her with a healthy mix of mistrust, skepticism and derision? Oh, she was fascinating, she had a wild look about her under the devotion and the order, the rigidity. As though she were still half savage. Perhaps this beastly female was bred by the tribes on her world to serve as a member of a warrior caste? Then again, the derision came with a certain air of authority, however provincial. Upjumped though they were, grasping as they might have been she sensed value in those beings, or at least utility.

"Was it you who sent this...animal to find me?" Her eyes narrowed, she wished to press the point but more important matters needed attention. "What is that wrinkled thug who fancies himself a bureaucrat and his gaggle of carrion eating birds on about in there? Are they attempting to salvage their failures by stripping my Admiral of his rank?" While she had a feeling Karius was present, the vermin hadn't called her, that became clear now, which meant this one..whom she'd overlooked had been been able to perceive her plans.

This wasn't a summonce, not entirely. Her eyes slowly narrowed "Tell me your name" she paused "And your attendants as well"

Phasma might have thought Miryia needed to prove herself, but the concerns of the help meant nothing to her. But she could play nice enough when needed, especially when her attention was caught.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Coruscant



"Your guests have made use of the water gardens while you rested, mistress" The pleasing tone of D-3PO, the blue and silver plated protocol droid announced, he'd come through the courtyard walking through the former Presidential apartments until it reached the bathing quarters of the principle room. The synth marble on the floors and the cavernous size of the estate combined to create a cacophony of whirring, chiming servos as the droid made its way across the building granting her more than sufficient warning. Even with her head below the warm water, she could not fail to take note of the familiar sounds. By the time the droid arrived, she'd been standing between two sonic dryers which removed not only the water from her form but scrubbed away any residual dirt or debris particles that the sentient availing themselves of the bathing facilities might have missed. Behind the droid, two Twi'liks, twins, a brother and a sister roughly fifteen years of age stood at either end of the stairs leading into the grand bath. Another present from Sate Pestage, figuring she could sate her carnal urges on one or either of the pair. It was a disgusting thought, as if she was some mindless Sith who couldn't help control her baser impulses. Still, when she questioned the boy, he spoke well enough, the girl was dutiful and attentive and the pair knew how to armor a sentient without needing to be trained and they were obedient. And so, she opted to keep them on as house slaves, assisting the army of droids that tended to the sprawling palace of the Conchords, an estate that once belonged to the Grand Chancellors of the Republic, who lived in these vast and nigh timeless halls until the Presidential palace, the behemoth of a megastructure that was now called the Imperial Palace (where the arrogant fool GRand Vizier lived). The guests the Droid was referring too had been several members of the five hundred and first that had been assigned as her protective duty by Captain Cardinal who with the death of the entirety of the 501sts command structure became the highest ranking officer. It was his way of swearing fealty, promising her that the Legion once feared throughout the Galaxy would serve her in return for the dignity she'd help them recapture. She planned to do more than assuage the wounded pride of what was left though, in time the woman planned to fully reconstitute the 501st, but she would make some changes, chiefly they would no longer be purely humans and leftover clones but xenos as well and she would ensure their loyalty oath included a line declaring their loyalty to her as well as to the Empire.

"Late was the hour in which we returned to the capital, they have earned their rest, let them sun in the garden and drink and eat and nap in the artificial sun" Besides, she thought once the woman was done the Twi'liks handed her a shimmer silk robe and followed her as she began to walk through one of the Myriad great halls. "An Uncle of mine lived here when I was a child" she remarked to no one in particular, only laughing when one of the Twins gave her a quizzical look, naturally they'd heard she'd slept for a long time, that she was from a different era but it was moments like this when they realized it hadn't been rumor that made her feel truly ancient. "Ah, is my slave curious? Very well, I shall indulge you. At the time, the Republic had both a Grand Chancellor and a Vice Chancellor, the one who was second lived here, my uncle was that man in my mouth" The Grand Chancellor had been her grandmother but she had little interest in dating herself in front of a pair of slaves. her feet almost glided across the synth marble as she made her way from the grand halls to her personal chambers. Late bad been the hour indeed and Sate Pestage was on her mind as they returned, for while they had been sent out to find a counterfeit only the comms officers had seemed disheartened. The mood within the Intrepid was one of celebration as victorious spirits once again stirred within the hearts of the remnants of the Five Hundred and First. "Shall I inform them of your departure" The droid asked, again reminder her that she had scheduled a transport to the old Senate building, where the Council of Moffs was now in session, conveyed in secret (or what Pestage believed was secret), he was evidently utterly livid about the alleged incompetence of Admiral Karius and his "failure" to obtain a proper holocron, no doubt he was also hurling invectives about regarding her and her utility. The skies above Coruscant rumbled and she could sense the tides of history ebbing about her and as she was dressed by her slaves, Miryia's mind wandered back to that night, twenty one hundred years ago when she butchered much of the Jedi council and framed the Sith. That evening, she'd shed the blood of friends for the sake of a Galaxy unchained from stagnation, tonight she fully intended to set events in motion that would utterly unmake the Grand Vizier and leave him and that council of gaggling invalids at her mercy.

"Who among them has responded to my messages?" She asked, her voice sounded slightly edged, while melodious and formal as always there seemed to be a trace of venom in it. "The Grand Admiral Octavian Grant, Admiral Karius of course, Admiral Gilad Pellaeon and" the droid was cut off by a wave of her hand, the rest were irrelevant, she'd sent out a dozen overtures, but only three interested her due to the nature of the men in question and the skill they commanded both in their own intellect and those under their services. If they were at least interested in her overtures than it opened the doors, she'd planned on this being a year long operation the force however, she would find had other plans. The armor she wore today was a tad different, it was smooth and made of Mandalorian iron unlike her usual durasteel breast plate, her usual purple cloak was swapped out for one ornately woven and formal, it shimmered in the flickering lights of the brazier like fixtures that always seemed to dance in her presence. The twins slid a pair of gloves over her hands, she seldom wore but this time she saw the merit, she wanted to go there in full regalia, looking less like a humiliated servant and more like a prelate being dispatched to restore order. About her finger, the crimson kyber crystal at the center glowed as if it sensed a storm in the air. Miryia ordered the twins and D to attend to the members of Vader's fist as though they were foreign dignitaries and that she expected to return in two hours time.

The Aurodium engraved Lightsaber that belonged to a Jedi Master, rose from its place of rest on a small stand at the rooms rear and flew into her belt and she departed in silence making her way for the speeder platform where she beheld two terrified members of the regular army standing outside a luxury speeder, in front of them was an Imperial Inquisitor, one of the sad remnants of the Jedi Service corps turned into a darkside adept and set loose into the Galaxy to hunt her betters. Miryia's purple eyes flickered and the Inquisitor stood her ground but her leg involuntarily twitched. "You've been summoned..Master...Janus" the woman had to be close to thirty but the fear in her voice was of a child's. That didn't surprise Miryia, for when she awoke she'd been surrounded by inquisitors, she mistook them for Sith slaves and butchered them all, all save the woman-child, who took a powerful blow to the face that had popped her eye out, an eye that was replaced with a cybernetic implant. There was another of these so called "Darkside adepts" she'd left alive, but he tried to sense her thoughts and Miryia destroyed his personality utterly, leaving him little more than a five foot infant. She'd heard he'd lapsed into a coma after a series of strokes, that he would probably die as he lived, ignorant of the wider Galaxy and covered in his own filth.

"Pestage sends you to summon me"

"It's, it's not him Master, its someone else" Miryia raised an eyebrow but entered the speeder any way, now that was interesting. Who was arrogant enough to presume to summon her amid that rabble? Had it been Karius he simply would have told her to arrive at a set time beforehand, had it been any of the others they'd have made more of a show of it. As the Speeder raced towards their destination at the old Imperial Senate building the shadow of the now utterly abandoned and isolated Jedi Temple rose in the failing sun.

And above it, the cathedral like palace of the Last Lord of the Sith.

Who knows what evils lurk in the hearts of men!

Thanks gents!

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

So we have two Echani mutts and a Wookie?

This'll be fun.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Miryia Janus

My Hider

Name: Miryia Farlina Janus

Age: 2,275 (Chronologically, about three hundred and seventy-five in terms of actual life lived)

Race: Arkanian.

Brief Bio:

My Hider

It’s said a storm raged across the skies the night Miryia of House Janus was born. She was one of three triplets who came into the Galaxy that day, but while her siblings cried, she remained oddly silent and many took it as a sign. Of course, when you’re a member of house Janus everything is a sign, the family had been one of the co-founders of the Republic at the dawn of its history and no less than ninety of them had been Supreme Chancellors and seventeen were Grand Masters of the old Jedi order. She’d been born to be great, genetically engineered for it (literally due to Arkanian society) and it came as no surprise when she tested positive for force sensitivity. Two of her great uncles had been Jedi Knights, her father’s youngest brother was a venerated member of the Jedi service corps and her maternal great uncle was killed fighting Mandalorian pirates as a Padawan. From the time she could form her first words she was trained in the family palace, by one of her great uncles learning to move objects with her mind before she could walk and then learning to channel the force to run, dance and play. When she was taken before the Jedi high Council around age four, she didn’t weep, nor did she mourn the parting from her parents for she felt as though she belonged, as though the room was hers. The Jedi council could have been forgiven for not seeing the touch of ambition in her eyes or perhaps they noticed but dismissed it as mere breeding that could be channeled or suppressed. Around age nine she was assigned a master, a gruff Dreathos who was nearly five hundred years old. Master Croo spent two centuries wandering the unknown regions and seldom returned to the temple of Coruscant or any of the minor Jedi temples throughout the Galaxy. While Jedi of the Janus line traditionally stayed close to the inner rim, it was hoped that by putting her out of her comfort zone she would better serve the order. For seven years Croo and Miryia wandered the galaxy, she learning from him and he harnessing her considerable power in the service of the Light. On Tatooine she distinguished herself when she bested the strongest warriors in a band of Tusken Raiders and brought them to the peace table. In the Lokondo system they liberated slaves and sent several youngsters to the Jedi temple for review and possible training. At age seventeen she passed the trials and became a Jedi Knight yet remained with Croo for several more years, feeling that while she had long ago surpassed him in power, he still held much to teach him though he disagreed with her assessment he allowed her to travel with him having grown fond of his “little aristocrat”. The final lesson Miryia would ever learn from Croo was the bitterness of grief, for not a year after her ascent to Knighthood, her beloved teacher was slain by dark side practitioners. Something broke in Miryia, or perhaps something that had always been broken was simply turned loose for she reacted less to the death of her dear friend and more to the failure of the Jedi Order to properly eradicate all the leftovers from the destruction of the Sith. Miryia butchered them all, save for a single infant which she abandoned on the doorstep of one of the many, smaller Jedi temples that existed at that time. Returning to Coruscant to report the death of Croo and to finally mourn her friend, but also to warn the council that groups of force users had scavenged leavings of the Sith and begun to dabble in the twisted arts of the dark side. The council thanked her for the knowledge and then wasted a year debating what should be done on the matter, something that irritated Miryia who believed the solution was simple, kill them all. Over the next five years the youth became one of the louder voices for a more proactive involvement by the Jedi Order in the affairs of the Galaxy, particularly concerning the dark side which she believed was on the rise again. Finally, at her wits end and tired of deliberation the Jedi Knight requested permission to venture out into the galaxy, to follow the will of the force and to do its bidding wherever she could. The council, shocked that a member of her family would want to mingle with the commoners agreed but cautioned her to stay away from dark side cults lest her indignation become a need for vengeance. Miryia agreed, she kept her word for ten years but eventually she felt the call and soon found herself battling not amateurs dabbling in darkness but remnants of the Sith! The young Jedi found herself outmatched, though she killed several their masters began to drive her to limits and in the darkness of battle she felt a call of a different sort, a sickly, cold power that she was both repulsed and intrigued by and calling on that power pulled the life force out of one of her attackers, infusing her cells with life and vitality and the onrush of power that allowed her to slay the remaining Sith in that particular clan. When the battle was at last concluded, she gazed upon the ruins of a sort of citadel that had belonged to them and in the dark, the temptation to learn from the dark was too strong and she briefly succumbed. Miryia spent the next five years studying the Sith lore, practicing their techniques, indulging in their sorcery and alchemy which she found she had a disturbing aptitude for. While fascinated, while learning much it was her next brush with the Darkside that left her utterly disgusted by Sith philosophy and brought her back to the light. She witnessed a Sith lord, ailing and frail drain the life force out of his own daughter to restore himself, the action both rejuvenating him and filling him with a feral arrogance that caused him to delve deeper into the darkside, to call upon more and more of the energies wracking his body. Miryia was horrified, the Sith had reminded her of those desperate drug addicts who’d sell their own babies for spice or deathsticks and the fact that she’d stooped so low disgusted her even more. Her pride offended, she stormed the Sith’s place of power and slew them all then calling upon the light, she felt something new. The old familiar burn of the light, the warm welcoming heat intermingled with a slight breeze and she realized the darkside remained at her beck and call. Deciding to risk death she attempted to channel both aspects of the force and in doing so unleashed a blast of silver light that blew the Sith in half. She raised their compound and destroyed their tomes and tombs and walked into the night. The experience had given her much to think on, but she also didn’t like the idea of using the dark side, even if in conjunction with the Light, not yet. So, she abandoned her experiments for a time and spent fifty years out in the wider galaxy before returning to Coruscant, this time as an accomplished Jedi Knight and one whose deeds had become folklore. Though she neglected to inform the council of her dabbling in the darkside, she told them of her brushes with the Sith. They weren’t entirely surprised and figured some clans had survived out in the wilderness of the unknown regions and outerrim. While she accepted their acknowledgment with stoicism, internally she was disgusted at their lack of will. Had they known, they should have declared a crusade and exterminated them. Later that year she was elevated to the rank of Jedi master and given a seat on the high council, where her more proactive stance and her drive made her popular among the younger Jedi. Among them was an Umbarian Padawan named Phanius, whose charisma and power were enormous and seemed to rival her own even at such a young age. She took a keen interest in his life and around this time fell in love with and married a young Knight from the Sunrider family. While the Jedi Order had begun to frown on marriage a century prior to her birth, it wasn’t yet outright criminalized and her marriage to the Sunrider youth was controversial but accepted and met with some praise. Phanius attended with his master and it was said he remarked that it was a pleasant dream. Perhaps if Miryia knew what those words would signify later, she would have killed him then and there while she still possessed the power to do so. She would give her husband two sets of twins and a lone daughter all of whom would mourn the death of her husband some twenty years later. Of her children only the daughter possessed any force power (The others would go on to be Senators, governors and prefects) and Phanius would end up being her master when he finally attained the rank of Knight. When Phanius became a Jedi Master it was Miryia who performed the ceremony and presented him with his Aurodium sealed lightsaber. Later, when he left the Jedi order it was she who realized he was likely going out into the dark and she followed him, seeking to stop her old friend before things went too far, only to see him die (or so she believed). Several years later Darth Ruin, the insane solipsistic Sith Lord would unite the Sith clans and declare war on the Republic. Miryia battled both him and his flowers, striking the hardest of any Jedi even going so far as to base delta zero a planet that had allied with the sith. Even after Ruins death, she relentlessly pursued the Sith but the Jedi council grew less and less proactive and Miryia became convinced only strong, resolute order would protect the galaxy from unbridled darkness. To that end, she committed her greatest atrocity, she lured the more reluctant voices on the Jedi high Council to Malastare and there slew them (harming herself in the process), framing the Sith and ensuring that the order would be galvanized to fight on. When the Republic Senate waivered, it was Miryia who proposed the Jedi takeover the Republic and govern in place of the Grand Chancellor, it was Miryia who first adopted the title “Lord” in battle against the Sith and it was this relentless arrogance and vicious streak that led her to believe that the war might have been beneficial, that dragging it on for as long as possible might save the Galaxy if both sides could fight to mutual extinction and a newer, healthier, more dynamic and assertive order could fill the void. The darkside was strong in her, as was the light and she viewed both as raw materials in the hand of an artist or smith, or as sophisticated and risky tools. Perhaps, she would have implemented this plan had her personal starship not been hurled through hyperspace in the aftermath of a battle, its drive fried, Miryia was forced to limp home at near lightspeed in normal space. She estimated that it would take a century in real space (Though at those speeds only five years would pass from her perspective)to get back to a Republic outpost (or Sith), where she could requisition a working vessel or commandeer one and return to a war she could only hope was still raging. To prevent herself from starving Miryia used the force to seal herself in suspended animation and sealed herself in a stasis pod. Unbeknownst to her, the sublight engine system was also damaged and she was left adrift for nearly two thousand years. Rescued by an Imperial Star Destroyer working for the Remnant they brought her back Orinda where she was taken out of Stasis. It took several days but eventually the utter state of flux of the force assaulted her senses and rocketed her to awareness. Awaking disoriented and bewildered she slew an Imperial doctor and nearly killed another before a terrified Storm Trooper talked her down. After returning to her senses the weight of just how long she’d been asleep hit her and it would have emotionally overwhelmed a lesser force user. With the situation explained, with the knowledge that she was a “guest” of this council of Moffs and Sate Pestage (whoever he was) and asked solely to be given as many unaltered historical documents as possible. Miryia spent the next two months locked in study, catching up on two thousand years of history and the ultimate fate of the Jedi and Sith. Initially given imperial propaganda she slew the fool dumb enough to insult her intelligence by feeding her obvious lies and finally was given full access to what remained of the Sith Lore Palpatine had horded and what was left of the unaltered documents. At first she was proud and then enraged, while the war had indeed carried on for a thousand years the Jedi emerged not only triumphant but consecrated by the war and had begun to ossify, she could see it, the stagnation apparent and the Sith? To her disgust and amusement, the deranged drug addicts passed from the hands of one deluded maniac to the next until a fallen Jedi Master named Skere kaan blew them all up on some random planet. The lone survivor going to ground, skulking in the shadows and altering Sith culture into this heretical “rule of two” that ensured winged Dragons learned to slither like snakes, well they had at least changed, even if their evolution was degeneration and devolution. To her the solution had been simple, abandon the treachery and fight for unity, embrace other aspects of the force and fight united in spirit yet they saw none of that. This Palpatine came off like a hot-rodding imbecile and Yoda seemed to her like a disgrace to everything a Jedi Master should be and reminded her too much of those rigid, over deliberating simpletons. House Janus had survived the ages, even if they had lost much of their power and influence in the Imperial era and the waning years of the Republic. This Luke Skywalker Palpatine fawned over like a stalker and his monstrous father both disgusted and intrigued her, at once she could tell both were little more then golems created by the force to exact vengeance on them (She had read up on this Darth Plagieus and his nimrod assault on the force and surmised what Palpatine was too afraid to put to words about the Skywalker line), on the other they represented a blank slate. The disorder and discord of the Galaxy disgusted her, but she liked the notion of the New Order, even if it was a perversion of itself with a bunch of unstable mongrel scum. Still, Zsinj was no fool, the organized crime syndicates wouldn’t do and she had no use for the Pentastar alignment for as long as Jerec endured, she had no interest in sharing power with an inferior, one who would was tainted by heresy. No, this “Imperial remnant” would have to do and she was content to play the part of a servant for now, but she would bring it to heel one day, she would purge the weak and unite the strong, she would bring the feuding factions together uniting them as Ashla and Bogan had once been united by the Bendu of old. She would become empress and guide this galaxy on a proper path and any order of force users that stood in her way would be ruinated.

At least, that was the promise she made herself when Sate Pestage foolishly crowned her as “The Empire’s Herald” and charged her with “Founding a new order of force users, an Imperial one, in the service of the New Order”.

Faction: Imperial remnant.
They found her, resuscitated her and because they present the easiest faction to coopt from within. Also their stolen Jedi and Sith lore.

Personality: Driven, charismatic, dangerous and noble, regal and handsome have all been descriptors used to sum her up. Most of them are accurate, Miryia is an unrelenting force in her conviction and she isn’t above being astoundingly brutal when the situation calls for it (she destroyed entire planets during the New Sith Wars), she possess a sense of self importance and ego that perhaps exceeds the scope of the universe itself and was surpassed in raw megalomania by Palpatine himself and insanity by only Darth Ruin’s crazy ass. Miryia doesn’t so much as view the force as a divine font of life energy as more a source of power and raw materials to be harvested, molded and customized to fit the wielders needs. To this end she doesn’t refer to Jedi or Sith as force users but as “wielders” or “makers”. In her youth she possessed a fair if hard sense of justice and a keen desire to help the Galaxy, in her adulthood this turned into a cynical, harsh and remote desire to correct and control a flawed universe, sometimes even if that means destroying the very thing you’re fighting to protect to remake it into something more grand. She has a maternal instinct, even now after centuries of war and moral compromising have left her able to commit countless atrocities and it can disrupt her ability to think objectively in regards to anyone she cares about. Deep down inside, she knows she’s gone completely insane but is too far gone to really correct that, the mission must succeed. Miryia’s morality is incredibly binary either you’re on the side of order and justice and peace, or its enemy. Anything on the side deemed the enemy is subject to any and all means of coercion or defeat, her goal is nothing short of Galactic unity at the end of a Lightsaber. Where once she was a believer that the world can change if one trusts in the force and in their own heart and sense of ethics, she now believes it only makes sense if you beat it down and force it to make sense. She’s intensely hostile towards the leaders of other force using orders, viewing them either as heretics or obstacles and her view of those who practice Sith philosophy is that they’re little better than drug addicts and should be killed without mercy. While talented in arcane sorcery and lore, she’s utterly useless when it comes to prophecy, for her entire life she’s never received a single vision of the future, only able to see the past. Her powers in the force are vast but two millennium in a deep sleep has left her mind somewhat warped and she’ll periodically sleep for several days to rejuvenate herself. She’s very rigid and comports herself like a true aristocrat, not even deigning to put herself in the place of a lesser being. Luke Skywalker terrifies her and the notion of the Skywalker line continuing bothers her more than anything else, her fear of what she terms as “deadly, soulless homunculi’ will often blind her and she may one day meet her end because of it.

She’s eternally vexed by the fact that she has never been able to conjure up the energy blasts she used in her youth, but she can call upon a golden variant of force lightning. In her youth she specialized in Makashi becoming a master of the style, but eventually began to study the Shien variant of the fifth form of lightsaber combat before turning Ataru a style she struggled to master, she’s experienced with Juyo but disliked the form due to its wildness and she’s always struggled with stamina.

Physical description: Miryia is what the Galaxy has come to expect from the genetically engineered Arkanian species. Beautiful, haunting, alluring and regal, manufactured essentially to embody exotic yet classical beauty. One of the many sins of the cynical, eugenics obsessed Arkanian people and the side effect of this is that her night vision is absolutely awful, and her tactile senses are somewhat subdued. She ages very slowly as she was engineered to live for nearly a millennium and the stolen life force helped there somewhat but the drawback for this is that it gives her a very unnatural vibe. One finds her alluring and attractive, but the animal side of your brain tells you to run, that this is a predatory of some sort and secretly a crone. She’s physically fit, graceful and lithe but there’s a bit of physical power there. Miryia has a scar above her navel where she took a lightsaber wound, another that runs down her right forearm from the time she was caught by a slavers whip and a blaster burn on her lower back near her posterior. She adorns herself in black form fitting robes, a breast plate and an imperial purple cloak, giving her an almost spectral appearance. Her eyes are of an amethyst color and glow when she uses her force powers.

Equipment: A Lightsaber with Aurodium etchings over the ignition button and around the power regulator of a Jedi Master. The blade itself is a deep, dark indigo and makes an odd singing sound when ignited and can “bend” to form a thin scimitar like blade (This is due to the alchemy that went into creating her crystal) when she desires more precision in her strikes. She wears a ring with a kaibur crystal encircled by silver serpents, the crystal is blood red and she took it from a Sith she killed as a macabre trophy.

Ship (Optional): Whatever is provided for her by the Remnant.

Rheanessya Aladar

My Hider

Rheanessya Aladar: A Padawan who escaped order sixty six at age eleven and was discovered six years later by Inquisitor Brandl, living in a brothel and seemingly hopelessly addicted to spice. He gave her the choice between death or servitude to the dark side. She chose service, when Miryia killed her fellow Inquisitors she was among the only two to survive the encounter. Currently seeking an end to her self hatred, regret and a higher calling.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Rua Skirata

My Hider

Name: Rua’ Skirata

Age: 30

Race: Human-Arkanian mix

Brief Bio:

My Hider

Born into Clan Skirata, the son of an Arc trooper clone and an Arkanian Rebel, Rua grew up in one of the more unconventional and smaller Mandalorian clans. Rua grew up, partially raised by Tallisebeth Esterhazy who instilled in him the virtue of persistence in the face of insurmountable odds and the value of holding fast to your own dream. Though what dreams lay in Rua’s mind might as well have been a mystery to the wider Galaxy (if anyone truly cared). Growing up he was quiet, soft spoken but there was always an edge of fire in his tone and he was nicknamed “jitters” by the other children for his propensity to fidget in place while he waited his turn during live fire exercises or in training. Less out of fear and more akin to the eagerness a trained racing beast or hunting hound might experience when being held at the gate by his master’s chain before being allowed to dart off. He excelled in knife fighting and blade work and was counted among the best of his generation. Farm work bored him but he developed a healthy appreciation for animal husbandry and breeding that would become somewhat of a hobby of his later in life and the insights he gained from his youth spent on Clan Skirata’s farms eventually led him to take his Darwinist approach to life, what it means to be a Mandalorian and the Galaxy at large. Around age seventeen, he began to feel restless and felt the call to a life beyond the confines of his world. At first, he contemplated joining the Imperial army or the Storm Trooper corps, but even the mighty five hundred and first seemed almost too ordinary for him. He’d been trained and bred, raised for something more and his own views on how the Galaxy should be brokered no substitution for the experience he would need later in life. Rua sought work where he could get it, as a bounty hunter, enforcer, life in the wider galaxy wasn’t as glamorous as he’d thought. Once or twice he did off the book missions for Garm Bel Iblis, Saw Guerrera and a few other more radical elements of the alliance to restore the Republic. Eventually he ended up as a bounty Hunter for Durga the Obese, the orange colored immense Hutt Vigo of the black sun. Rua earned a great deal of wealth accepting bounty’s that were incredibly high risk and doing wet work that Moff’s wanted outsourced. Wealth enough that he eventually bought a small shipping firm both to launder his more illegitimate earnings and begin to establish himself as independently wealthy. Rua had a taste for the finer things, he also had grander plans than to just be a mere bounty hunter. Plans which required him to have the right kind of connections, the right kind of reputation and more importantly the right kind of victories to his name. Rua spent several years expanding his own wealth and becoming known somewhat as a fop who hunted bounties for sport. In time he even gained invite to Imperial sector parties where he mingled with everyone from Ardus Kaine to Grand Admirals Thrawn and Grant to a rising star whose murder of his own mother earned him the title War Lord. While Imperial intelligence could never prove he’d worked for the Rebels (and occasionally still supplied them with intelligence for currency or the debt of favors), while his reputation as the antithesis of what his clan was known for during the clone wars led many to dismiss him as a potential traitor, doors still remained closed to him. Durga and the black sun provided him with much knowledge and had been a great stepping stone but Zsinj had become the closest thing he had to a benefactor and in time the two developed a friendship or at least as close as a pair of ultra-ambitious killers could have. Serving as an assassin for Zsinj Rua tracked down two Dathomirian Nightsisters who’d managed to escape the blockade. Though the Warlord had neglected to inform him one of them was a powerful Shaman. Never the less, Rua became the first Mandalorian in a thousand years to kill a force users. This victory resulted in Zsinj presenting him with twin daggers made of Song steel with Arkanian Dragon fangs for grips. The defeat of two force users also won him (at least in his mind) the right to use Mandalorian armor, true Mandalorian armor. Esterhazy taught him well, she’d shared with him the knowledge of Jedi combat and he credited her fighting styles fused with what he’d learned as a youth with saving his life. For years he’d kept her secret and still has too this day but the skills acquired must have given the impression that he at least had some prior contact with force users for he was soon sent on a mission by Durga to assassinate or retrieve if possible a criminal the Empire considered to be among the most dangerous. He’d been given a partner too, something that while not unheard of had been rare. The red headed woman felt off and on noticing her attire and lightsaber he cursed himself. The two spent the next month tracking down a Jedi Knight who survived the purge, a decorated veteran of the clone wars and someone believed to be roughly a century old and Rua had barely survived a pair of starving Nightsisters. The mission nearly killed him; his Songsteel blades were able to keep him in a fight with a lightsaber combatant due to being immune to the blades cutting powers but a swift thrust into his thigh and a kick to his chest had taken him out of the melee. The only consolation he’d had was that the red headed Dark sider was being beaten like a drunken Toydarian who’d just insulted a Wookie’s honor and as she struggled to keep her blade from being overwhelmed Rua snuck up on the duelists and stabbed him in the back, then a quick flick of the other knife and he’d opened the man’s throat. The Red Head was furious, and she struck at him with her lightsaber and while he managed to avoid being decapitated, she took his left eye and left him with a streak like scar. Rua eventually had the eye replaced with a sleek looking blue gem that concealed a miniature sensor suite that allowed him to see in various parts of the EM and infrared spectrums as well as remote control drones, which are usually just tiny things carrying thermo detonators (he likes to flush out prey rather than kill from a distance). The payout for the victory was a fortune but Rua got the message, whoever hired him through Durga wanted him dead. Rua bought a moon orbiting a gas giant in the Quelii Oversector and built himself an underground palace there, one with its own forests and gardens and lakes. He began funding the construction of mining facilities in the gas giant’s rings as well as the gas giant itself and made an immense profit (of which he gave 60% to Zsinj almost twice what the Warlord asked in under the table tribute, but hey, allies like that were rare). Such wealth allowed him to buy his way into the Black sun’s hierarchy and his ability to move between worlds made him indispensable to the Imperial warlord which meant Zsinj warned him that whoever was wanted him dead was likely going to try again. This time, the contract came from an imperial inquisitor himself to hunt down this Rebel pilot turned self-professed Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker. Rua had absolutely no interest in killing another Jedi, the last one was too close for comfort and he still viewed the Jedi Knight who taught him and partly raised him as family. Fortunately for him the Emperor was hurled down a reactor shaft and the Death Star exploded, taking the Emperor, Darth Vader and a pair of Grand Admirals with it. Apparently, the disaster was pervasive enough the Dark Jedi who was gunning for him died as well, or at least in the chaos of a galaxy spanning governments near collapse he wasn’t important enough to put any effort into (not that he’d complain). As the dust settled and warlordism set in, Rua found his shipping and hauling companies serving as courier services through the new powers and demand for his gas and minerals was higher than ever and so he spent the first few months after the battle of Endor becoming stupendously wealthy and building himself a reputation as a go between for all the different sides (all the while quietly stocking piling weapons and buying old clone wars era warships), it wasn’t a year in that Zsinj contacted him again. The Warlord turned high Admiral and Moff turned, Warlord, turned founder of his own mini empire was looking to consolidate power in his domain as a resident of the Oversector Zsinj felt Rua had a duty to help establish his new financial center. Rua was hesitant, he had other goals after all and Zsinj once again surprised him when the Warlord asked him what the purpose of becoming Mandalore was if you lacked a stable and powerful base of operations. How did “Mandalore the Imperious” sound? Zsinj’s offer was simple serve him for a decade as his master of assassins, his chief spy and his personal head hunter and Zsinj would bankroll his attempt to unite the clans so long as the war he envisioned himself leading brought all the profits and trade through Zsinj’s own empire and so long as he didn’t mind sharing the glory. Two heads in Galactic conquest were better than one and it was a lot safer restoring his culture to its glory days with an Executor Class SSD at his back than fifty-year-old rust buckets. And even if Zsinj died or was overrun before he was able to fulfill his promise, well Rua figures he’ll be one of the wealthiest men in the galaxy at that point and paying off the ruins of the Warlord’s empire (and looting its coffers) to enlist in his goal is certainly doable. Win, win figures the Jackal.

Faction:
The Empire of Zsinj. Rua joined up with the Warlord because he was one of the few Imperial officers Rua ever respected and because their dalliances in the past had proven profitable for both of them, enough that they’ve been working together off and on since Rua was about twenty two. Beyond that, his base of operations and his source of wealth all resides within the Quelii Oversector so, refusing the offer, an offer that might one day net him his prize is not one to be refuse.

Personality: Rua Skirata in many ways is the polar opposite of the now legendary Patriarch of the Arc troopers “Papa Kal” and his own father. He’s ruthless, pragmatic and oddly soft spoken, forcing people to listen when he speaks and holding his tongue unless he’s in familiar company or has something worth saying. While he’s capable of rather terrifying savagery (At Ord Cantrell when hired by the Alliance early in his career to put a stop to some slave cartels loyal to a minor Hutt Kajidic Rua and his mercenaries crucified some eight hundred thugs in an act of psychological warfare), he prefers to use efficient, clean and quick methods first. Rua despised many Imperial officers and nearly all Dark Jedi seeing them as mindless animals who butchered on a large scale as a matter of form and viewed that as pathetic and cowardly. Grotesquerie had its place in warfare, but it had to be done rationally, not indiscriminately. His sense of honor is somewhat flexible but not to where he can easily throw it away. To this day he’s never betrayed the Jedi who hid with his clan and he’s got no ill will towards Luke Skywalker though he sees the rise of a second Jedi order as a threat to his ultimate goal of a largely Mandalorian dominated Galaxy his opposition isn’t animus. That ability to think rationally, the cold pragmatism balanced out with a sense of honor has largely kept him from being completely lost to the carnage of the imperial era. Rua is somewhat vain, he enjoys the finer things in life, loves opulence and readily plays up the lazy rich man stereotype to hide the fact that his shimmersilk conceals muscles made of coiled durasteel cables.

Physical description: Rua definitely has more of his Arkanian mother than he does his clone father, he’s stall, elegant with long dark black hair with streaks of blue due to the particular subspecies his mother hails from. He rather dislikes the blue streaks believing it makes him look like some cliché holo drama character rather than just the Galaxy’s opportunist. The scar across the left side of his face runs from above his nose town to his jaw and the ocular implant that replaced his eye is a disguised as an amethyst gem due to his own pomposity and taste for the elegant. There are some other scars on his body, a starburst pattern burns on his shoulder from his battle Dathomirian witches and scar on his thigh from that lightsaber blade. He tends to dress in elegant clothing favoring shimmer silk and suede and when he wades into battle his Mandalorian armor is done up in ornate patterns with old “spells” of blessing and well wishes in battle. The Skirata clan symbol rests on chest over his heart and he wears a navy-blue coat with the symbol of Zsjin’s Empire on the shoulder pads in place of epaulettes. This is done in mockery of the old Republican guardsmen uniforms and the Ancient Jedi robes. He always, always wears gloves of some kind and has a shimmersilk scarf about his neck that conceals micro-segmented armor scales that he can use as a whip if necessary.

Equipment: A pair of Song Steel daggers which he has sheathed and attached to a belt made of rancor leather. Three ivory handled blasters with Aurodium plating, two in shoulder holsters and one behind his back. His Mandalorian armor does not have a jetback as he disliked aerial dueling, however his boots have small devices capable of emitting AG fields that allow him to “leap frog” through the air and direct his “falls” and can allow him to match Jedi for agility to a small degree. He’s also got a personal shield device though he seldom uses it due to the energy requirements. The greaves on his forearms contain a capacitor and a relay device which he can use to turn his fists into electrical brass knuckles. Unlike most Mandalorians he doesn’t have a wrist mounted flame thrower, instead preferring to keep vials of liquid that ignites when exposed to the hormones of the bodies of most sentients, which he opts to throw at his opponents (he keeps his clothing and armor laced with a chemical that nullifies its effects on him but still has to watch out for his face). Instead of a traditional Mandalorian helm he wears a rebreather mask that shields him from toxins and chemicals and can convert some gasses into oxygen and recycle his own air. He wears a sort of coronet that produces a low-level EM field that sort of disrupts blaster bolts which usually redirects fire from his face. It’s not the safest method of protection but then again, he can be vain. He wears a shimmer silk sash with the symbols for Clan Skirata and Zsinj around his waist which is similar to the scarf about his neck in that it grants him an extra layer of protection against bladed weaponry and some minor help against blaster bolts.

Ship (Optional): The Ascent, A custom made H type Nubian Star Yacht, twenty meters longer than the average in her class with a larger powerplant and faster engines. She’s designed to turn like a fighter and take a beating long enough to escape. Armed with twin ion cannons and one light turbo laser.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

aaannnddd second

My Hider

Name: Miryia Farlina Janus

Age: 2,275 (Chronologically, about three hundred and seventy-five in terms of actual life lived)

Race: Arkanian.

Brief Bio:

My Hider

It’s said a storm raged across the skies the night Miryia of House Janus was born. She was one of three triplets who came into the Galaxy that day, but while her siblings cried, she remained oddly silent and many took it as a sign. Of course, when you’re a member of house Janus everything is a sign, the family had been one of the co-founders of the Republic at the dawn of its history and no less than ninety of them had been Supreme Chancellors and seventeen were Grand Masters of the old Jedi order. She’d been born to be great, genetically engineered for it (literally due to Arkanian society) and it came as no surprise when she tested positive for force sensitivity. Two of her great uncles had been Jedi Knights, her father’s youngest brother was a venerated member of the Jedi service corps and her maternal great uncle was killed fighting Mandalorian pirates as a Padawan. From the time she could form her first words she was trained in the family palace, by one of her great uncles learning to move objects with her mind before she could walk and then learning to channel the force to run, dance and play. When she was taken before the Jedi high Council around age four, she didn’t weep, nor did she mourn the parting from her parents for she felt as though she belonged, as though the room was hers. The Jedi council could have been forgiven for not seeing the touch of ambition in her eyes or perhaps they noticed but dismissed it as mere breeding that could be channeled or suppressed. Around age nine she was assigned a master, a gruff Dreathos who was nearly five hundred years old. Master Croo spent two centuries wandering the unknown regions and seldom returned to the temple of Coruscant or any of the minor Jedi temples throughout the Galaxy. While Jedi of the Janus line traditionally stayed close to the inner rim, it was hoped that by putting her out of her comfort zone she would better serve the order. For seven years Croo and Miryia wandered the galaxy, she learning from him and he harnessing her considerable power in the service of the Light. On Tatooine she distinguished herself when she bested the strongest warriors in a band of Tusken Raiders and brought them to the peace table. In the Lokondo system they liberated slaves and sent several youngsters to the Jedi temple for review and possible training. At age seventeen she passed the trials and became a Jedi Knight yet remained with Croo for several more years, feeling that while she had long ago surpassed him in power, he still held much to teach him though he disagreed with her assessment he allowed her to travel with him having grown fond of his “little aristocrat”. The final lesson Miryia would ever learn from Croo was the bitterness of grief, for not a year after her ascent to Knighthood, her beloved teacher was slain by dark side practitioners. Something broke in Miryia, or perhaps something that had always been broken was simply turned loose for she reacted less to the death of her dear friend and more to the failure of the Jedi Order to properly eradicate all the leftovers from the destruction of the Sith. Miryia butchered them all, save for a single infant which she abandoned on the doorstep of one of the many, smaller Jedi temples that existed at that time. Returning to Coruscant to report the death of Croo and to finally mourn her friend, but also to warn the council that groups of force users had scavenged leavings of the Sith and begun to dabble in the twisted arts of the dark side. The council thanked her for the knowledge and then wasted a year debating what should be done on the matter, something that irritated Miryia who believed the solution was simple, kill them all. Over the next five years the youth became one of the louder voices for a more proactive involvement by the Jedi Order in the affairs of the Galaxy, particularly concerning the dark side which she believed was on the rise again. Finally, at her wits end and tired of deliberation the Jedi Knight requested permission to venture out into the galaxy, to follow the will of the force and to do its bidding wherever she could. The council, shocked that a member of her family would want to mingle with the commoners agreed but cautioned her to stay away from dark side cults lest her indignation become a need for vengeance. Miryia agreed, she kept her word for ten years but eventually she felt the call and soon found herself battling not amateurs dabbling in darkness but remnants of the Sith! The young Jedi found herself outmatched, though she killed several their masters began to drive her to limits and in the darkness of battle she felt a call of a different sort, a sickly, cold power that she was both repulsed and intrigued by and calling on that power pulled the life force out of one of her attackers, infusing her cells with life and vitality and the onrush of power that allowed her to slay the remaining Sith in that particular clan. When the battle was at last concluded, she gazed upon the ruins of a sort of citadel that had belonged to them and in the dark, the temptation to learn from the dark was too strong and she briefly succumbed. Miryia spent the next five years studying the Sith lore, practicing their techniques, indulging in their sorcery and alchemy which she found she had a disturbing aptitude for. While fascinated, while learning much it was her next brush with the Darkside that left her utterly disgusted by Sith philosophy and brought her back to the light. She witnessed a Sith lord, ailing and frail drain the life force out of his own daughter to restore himself, the action both rejuvenating him and filling him with a feral arrogance that caused him to delve deeper into the darkside, to call upon more and more of the energies wracking his body. Miryia was horrified, the Sith had reminded her of those desperate drug addicts who’d sell their own babies for spice or deathsticks and the fact that she’d stooped so low disgusted her even more. Her pride offended, she stormed the Sith’s place of power and slew them all then calling upon the light, she felt something new. The old familiar burn of the light, the warm welcoming heat intermingled with a slight breeze and she realized the darkside remained at her beck and call. Deciding to risk death she attempted to channel both aspects of the force and in doing so unleashed a blast of silver light that blew the Sith in half. She raised their compound and destroyed their tomes and tombs and walked into the night. The experience had given her much to think on, but she also didn’t like the idea of using the dark side, even if in conjunction with the Light, not yet. So, she abandoned her experiments for a time and spent fifty years out in the wider galaxy before returning to Coruscant, this time as an accomplished Jedi Knight and one whose deeds had become folklore. Though she neglected to inform the council of her dabbling in the darkside, she told them of her brushes with the Sith. They weren’t entirely surprised and figured some clans had survived out in the wilderness of the unknown regions and outerrim. While she accepted their acknowledgment with stoicism, internally she was disgusted at their lack of will. Had they known, they should have declared a crusade and exterminated them. Later that year she was elevated to the rank of Jedi master and given a seat on the high council, where her more proactive stance and her drive made her popular among the younger Jedi. Among them was an Umbarian Padawan named Phanius, whose charisma and power were enormous and seemed to rival her own even at such a young age. She took a keen interest in his life and around this time fell in love with and married a young Knight from the Sunrider family. While the Jedi Order had begun to frown on marriage a century prior to her birth, it wasn’t yet outright criminalized and her marriage to the Sunrider youth was controversial but accepted and met with some praise. Phanius attended with his master and it was said he remarked that it was a pleasant dream. Perhaps if Miryia knew what those words would signify later, she would have killed him then and there while she still possessed the power to do so. She would give her husband two sets of twins and a lone daughter all of whom would mourn the death of her husband some twenty years later. Of her children only the daughter possessed any force power (The others would go on to be Senators, governors and prefects) and Phanius would end up being her master when he finally attained the rank of Knight. When Phanius became a Jedi Master it was Miryia who performed the ceremony and presented him with his Aurodium sealed lightsaber. Later, when he left the Jedi order it was she who realized he was likely going out into the dark and she followed him, seeking to stop her old friend before things went too far, only to see him die (or so she believed). Several years later Darth Ruin, the insane solipsistic Sith Lord would unite the Sith clans and declare war on the Republic. Miryia battled both him and his flowers, striking the hardest of any Jedi even going so far as to base delta zero a planet that had allied with the sith. Even after Ruins death, she relentlessly pursued the Sith but the Jedi council grew less and less proactive and Miryia became convinced only strong, resolute order would protect the galaxy from unbridled darkness. To that end, she committed her greatest atrocity, she lured the more reluctant voices on the Jedi high Council to Malastare and there slew them (harming herself in the process), framing the Sith and ensuring that the order would be galvanized to fight on. When the Republic Senate waivered, it was Miryia who proposed the Jedi takeover the Republic and govern in place of the Grand Chancellor, it was Miryia who first adopted the title “Lord” in battle against the Sith and it was this relentless arrogance and vicious streak that led her to believe that the war might have been beneficial, that dragging it on for as long as possible might save the Galaxy if both sides could fight to mutual extinction and a newer, healthier, more dynamic and assertive order could fill the void. The darkside was strong in her, as was the light and she viewed both as raw materials in the hand of an artist or smith, or as sophisticated and risky tools. Perhaps, she would have implemented this plan had her personal starship not been hurled through hyperspace in the aftermath of a battle, its drive fried, Miryia was forced to limp home at near lightspeed in normal space. She estimated that it would take a century in real space (Though at those speeds only five years would pass from her perspective)to get back to a Republic outpost (or Sith), where she could requisition a working vessel or commandeer one and return to a war she could only hope was still raging. To prevent herself from starving Miryia used the force to seal herself in suspended animation and sealed herself in a stasis pod. Unbeknownst to her, the sublight engine system was also damaged and she was left adrift for nearly two thousand years. Rescued by an Imperial Star Destroyer working for the Remnant they brought her back Orinda where she was taken out of Stasis. It took several days but eventually the utter state of flux of the force assaulted her senses and rocketed her to awareness. Awaking disoriented and bewildered she slew an Imperial doctor and nearly killed another before a terrified Storm Trooper talked her down. After returning to her senses the weight of just how long she’d been asleep hit her and it would have emotionally overwhelmed a lesser force user. With the situation explained, with the knowledge that she was a “guest” of this council of Moffs and Sate Pestage (whoever he was) and asked solely to be given as many unaltered historical documents as possible. Miryia spent the next two months locked in study, catching up on two thousand years of history and the ultimate fate of the Jedi and Sith. Initially given imperial propaganda she slew the fool dumb enough to insult her intelligence by feeding her obvious lies and finally was given full access to what remained of the Sith Lore Palpatine had horded and what was left of the unaltered documents. At first she was proud and then enraged, while the war had indeed carried on for a thousand years the Jedi emerged not only triumphant but consecrated by the war and had begun to ossify, she could see it, the stagnation apparent and the Sith? To her disgust and amusement, the deranged drug addicts passed from the hands of one deluded maniac to the next until a fallen Jedi Master named Skere kaan blew them all up on some random planet. The lone survivor going to ground, skulking in the shadows and altering Sith culture into this heretical “rule of two” that ensured winged Dragons learned to slither like snakes, well they had at least changed, even if their evolution was degeneration and devolution. To her the solution had been simple, abandon the treachery and fight for unity, embrace other aspects of the force and fight united in spirit yet they saw none of that. This Palpatine came off like a hot-rodding imbecile and Yoda seemed to her like a disgrace to everything a Jedi Master should be and reminded her too much of those rigid, over deliberating simpletons. House Janus had survived the ages, even if they had lost much of their power and influence in the Imperial era and the waning years of the Republic. This Luke Skywalker Palpatine fawned over like a stalker and his monstrous father both disgusted and intrigued her, at once she could tell both were little more then golems created by the force to exact vengeance on them (She had read up on this Darth Plagieus and his nimrod assault on the force and surmised what Palpatine was too afraid to put to words about the Skywalker line), on the other they represented a blank slate. The disorder and discord of the Galaxy disgusted her, but she liked the notion of the New Order, even if it was a perversion of itself with a bunch of unstable mongrel scum. Still, Zsinj was no fool, the organized crime syndicates wouldn’t do and she had no use for the Pentastar alignment for as long as Jerec endured, she had no interest in sharing power with an inferior, one who would was tainted by heresy. No, this “Imperial remnant” would have to do and she was content to play the part of a servant for now, but she would bring it to heel one day, she would purge the weak and unite the strong, she would bring the feuding factions together uniting them as Ashla and Bogan had once been united by the Bendu of old. She would become empress and guide this galaxy on a proper path and any order of force users that stood in her way would be ruinated.

At least, that was the promise she made herself when Sate Pestage foolishly crowned her as “The Empire’s Herald” and charged her with “Founding a new order of force users, an Imperial one, in the service of the New Order”.

Faction: Imperial remnant.
They found her, resuscitated her and because they present the easiest faction to coopt from within. Also their stolen Jedi and Sith lore.

Personality: Driven, charismatic, dangerous and noble, regal and handsome have all been descriptors used to sum her up. Most of them are accurate, Miryia is an unrelenting force in her conviction and she isn’t above being astoundingly brutal when the situation calls for it (she destroyed entire planets during the New Sith Wars), she possess a sense of self importance and ego that perhaps exceeds the scope of the universe itself and was surpassed in raw megalomania by Palpatine himself and insanity by only Darth Ruin’s crazy ass. Miryia doesn’t so much as view the force as a divine font of life energy as more a source of power and raw materials to be harvested, molded and customized to fit the wielders needs. To this end she doesn’t refer to Jedi or Sith as force users but as “wielders” or “makers”. In her youth she possessed a fair if hard sense of justice and a keen desire to help the Galaxy, in her adulthood this turned into a cynical, harsh and remote desire to correct and control a flawed universe, sometimes even if that means destroying the very thing you’re fighting to protect to remake it into something more grand. She has a maternal instinct, even now after centuries of war and moral compromising have left her able to commit countless atrocities and it can disrupt her ability to think objectively in regards to anyone she cares about. Deep down inside, she knows she’s gone completely insane but is too far gone to really correct that, the mission must succeed. Miryia’s morality is incredibly binary either you’re on the side of order and justice and peace, or its enemy. Anything on the side deemed the enemy is subject to any and all means of coercion or defeat, her goal is nothing short of Galactic unity at the end of a Lightsaber. Where once she was a believer that the world can change if one trusts in the force and in their own heart and sense of ethics, she now believes it only makes sense if you beat it down and force it to make sense. She’s intensely hostile towards the leaders of other force using orders, viewing them either as heretics or obstacles and her view of those who practice Sith philosophy is that they’re little better than drug addicts and should be killed without mercy. While talented in arcane sorcery and lore, she’s utterly useless when it comes to prophecy, for her entire life she’s never received a single vision of the future, only able to see the past. Her powers in the force are vast but two millennium in a deep sleep has left her mind somewhat warped and she’ll periodically sleep for several days to rejuvenate herself. She’s very rigid and comports herself like a true aristocrat, not even deigning to put herself in the place of a lesser being. Luke Skywalker terrifies her and the notion of the Skywalker line continuing bothers her more than anything else, her fear of what she terms as “deadly, soulless homunculi’ will often blind her and she may one day meet her end because of it.

She’s eternally vexed by the fact that she has never been able to conjure up the energy blasts she used in her youth, but she can call upon a golden variant of force lightning. In her youth she specialized in Makashi becoming a master of the style, but eventually began to study the Shien variant of the fifth form of lightsaber combat before turning Ataru a style she struggled to master, she’s experienced with Juyo but disliked the form due to its wildness and she’s always struggled with stamina.

Physical description: Miryia is what the Galaxy has come to expect from the genetically engineered Arkanian species. Beautiful, haunting, alluring and regal, manufactured essentially to embody exotic yet classical beauty. One of the many sins of the cynical, eugenics obsessed Arkanian people and the side effect of this is that her night vision is absolutely awful, and her tactile senses are somewhat subdued. She ages very slowly as she was engineered to live for nearly a millennium and the stolen life force helped there somewhat but the drawback for this is that it gives her a very unnatural vibe. One finds her alluring and attractive, but the animal side of your brain tells you to run, that this is a predatory of some sort and secretly a crone. She’s physically fit, graceful and lithe but there’s a bit of physical power there. Miryia has a scar above her navel where she took a lightsaber wound, another that runs down her right forearm from the time she was caught by a slavers whip and a blaster burn on her lower back near her posterior. She adorns herself in black form fitting robes, a breast plate and an imperial purple cloak, giving her an almost spectral appearance. Her eyes are of an amethyst color and glow when she uses her force powers.

Equipment: A Lightsaber with Aurodium etchings over the ignition button and around the power regulator of a Jedi Master. The blade itself is a deep, dark indigo and makes an odd singing sound when ignited and can “bend” to form a thin scimitar like blade (This is due to the alchemy that went into creating her crystal) when she desires more precision in her strikes. She wears a ring with a kaibur crystal encircled by silver serpents, the crystal is blood red and she took it from a Sith she killed as a macabre trophy.

Ship (Optional): Whatever is provided for her by the Remnant.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Aight, that's one out! Let me know what you think. You said you have a lot of force sensitives, here's your alternative:p

My Hider

Name: Rua’ Skirata

Age: 30

Race: Human-Arkanian mix

Brief Bio:

My Hider

Born into Clan Skirata, the son of an Arc trooper clone and an Arkanian Rebel, Rua grew up in one of the more unconventional and smaller Mandalorian clans. Rua grew up, partially raised by Tallisebeth Esterhazy who instilled in him the virtue of persistence in the face of insurmountable odds and the value of holding fast to your own dream. Though what dreams lay in Rua’s mind might as well have been a mystery to the wider Galaxy (if anyone truly cared). Growing up he was quiet, soft spoken but there was always an edge of fire in his tone and he was nicknamed “jitters” by the other children for his propensity to fidget in place while he waited his turn during live fire exercises or in training. Less out of fear and more akin to the eagerness a trained racing beast or hunting hound might experience when being held at the gate by his master’s chain before being allowed to dart off. He excelled in knife fighting and blade work and was counted among the best of his generation. Farm work bored him but he developed a healthy appreciation for animal husbandry and breeding that would become somewhat of a hobby of his later in life and the insights he gained from his youth spent on Clan Skirata’s farms eventually led him to take his Darwinist approach to life, what it means to be a Mandalorian and the Galaxy at large. Around age seventeen, he began to feel restless and felt the call to a life beyond the confines of his world. At first, he contemplated joining the Imperial army or the Storm Trooper corps, but even the mighty five hundred and first seemed almost too ordinary for him. He’d been trained and bred, raised for something more and his own views on how the Galaxy should be brokered no substitution for the experience he would need later in life. Rua sought work where he could get it, as a bounty hunter, enforcer, life in the wider galaxy wasn’t as glamorous as he’d thought. Once or twice he did off the book missions for Garm Bel Iblis, Saw Guerrera and a few other more radical elements of the alliance to restore the Republic. Eventually he ended up as a bounty Hunter for Durga the Obese, the orange colored immense Hutt Vigo of the black sun. Rua earned a great deal of wealth accepting bounty’s that were incredibly high risk and doing wet work that Moff’s wanted outsourced. Wealth enough that he eventually bought a small shipping firm both to launder his more illegitimate earnings and begin to establish himself as independently wealthy. Rua had a taste for the finer things, he also had grander plans than to just be a mere bounty hunter. Plans which required him to have the right kind of connections, the right kind of reputation and more importantly the right kind of victories to his name. Rua spent several years expanding his own wealth and becoming known somewhat as a fop who hunted bounties for sport. In time he even gained invite to Imperial sector parties where he mingled with everyone from Ardus Kaine to Grand Admirals Thrawn and Grant to a rising star whose murder of his own mother earned him the title War Lord. While Imperial intelligence could never prove he’d worked for the Rebels (and occasionally still supplied them with intelligence for currency or the debt of favors), while his reputation as the antithesis of what his clan was known for during the clone wars led many to dismiss him as a potential traitor, doors still remained closed to him. Durga and the black sun provided him with much knowledge and had been a great stepping stone but Zsinj had become the closest thing he had to a benefactor and in time the two developed a friendship or at least as close as a pair of ultra-ambitious killers could have. Serving as an assassin for Zsinj Rua tracked down two Dathomirian Nightsisters who’d managed to escape the blockade. Though the Warlord had neglected to inform him one of them was a powerful Shaman. Never the less, Rua became the first Mandalorian in a thousand years to kill a force users. This victory resulted in Zsinj presenting him with twin daggers made of Song steel with Arkanian Dragon fangs for grips. The defeat of two force users also won him (at least in his mind) the right to use Mandalorian armor, true Mandalorian armor. Esterhazy taught him well, she’d shared with him the knowledge of Jedi combat and he credited her fighting styles fused with what he’d learned as a youth with saving his life. For years he’d kept her secret and still has too this day but the skills acquired must have given the impression that he at least had some prior contact with force users for he was soon sent on a mission by Durga to assassinate or retrieve if possible a criminal the Empire considered to be among the most dangerous. He’d been given a partner too, something that while not unheard of had been rare. The red headed woman felt off and on noticing her attire and lightsaber he cursed himself. The two spent the next month tracking down a Jedi Knight who survived the purge, a decorated veteran of the clone wars and someone believed to be roughly a century old and Rua had barely survived a pair of starving Nightsisters. The mission nearly killed him; his Songsteel blades were able to keep him in a fight with a lightsaber combatant due to being immune to the blades cutting powers but a swift thrust into his thigh and a kick to his chest had taken him out of the melee. The only consolation he’d had was that the red headed Dark sider was being beaten like a drunken Toydarian who’d just insulted a Wookie’s honor and as she struggled to keep her blade from being overwhelmed Rua snuck up on the duelists and stabbed him in the back, then a quick flick of the other knife and he’d opened the man’s throat. The Red Head was furious, and she struck at him with her lightsaber and while he managed to avoid being decapitated, she took his left eye and left him with a streak like scar. Rua eventually had the eye replaced with a sleek looking blue gem that concealed a miniature sensor suite that allowed him to see in various parts of the EM and infrared spectrums as well as remote control drones, which are usually just tiny things carrying thermo detonators (he likes to flush out prey rather than kill from a distance). The payout for the victory was a fortune but Rua got the message, whoever hired him through Durga wanted him dead. Rua bought a moon orbiting a gas giant in the Quelii Oversector and built himself an underground palace there, one with its own forests and gardens and lakes. He began funding the construction of mining facilities in the gas giant’s rings as well as the gas giant itself and made an immense profit (of which he gave 60% to Zsinj almost twice what the Warlord asked in under the table tribute, but hey, allies like that were rare). Such wealth allowed him to buy his way into the Black sun’s hierarchy and his ability to move between worlds made him indispensable to the Imperial warlord which meant Zsinj warned him that whoever was wanted him dead was likely going to try again. This time, the contract came from an imperial inquisitor himself to hunt down this Rebel pilot turned self-professed Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker. Rua had absolutely no interest in killing another Jedi, the last one was too close for comfort and he still viewed the Jedi Knight who taught him and partly raised him as family. Fortunately for him the Emperor was hurled down a reactor shaft and the Death Star exploded, taking the Emperor, Darth Vader and a pair of Grand Admirals with it. Apparently, the disaster was pervasive enough the Dark Jedi who was gunning for him died as well, or at least in the chaos of a galaxy spanning governments near collapse he wasn’t important enough to put any effort into (not that he’d complain). As the dust settled and warlordism set in, Rua found his shipping and hauling companies serving as courier services through the new powers and demand for his gas and minerals was higher than ever and so he spent the first few months after the battle of Endor becoming stupendously wealthy and building himself a reputation as a go between for all the different sides (all the while quietly stocking piling weapons and buying old clone wars era warships), it wasn’t a year in that Zsinj contacted him again. The Warlord turned high Admiral and Moff turned, Warlord, turned founder of his own mini empire was looking to consolidate power in his domain as a resident of the Oversector Zsinj felt Rua had a duty to help establish his new financial center. Rua was hesitant, he had other goals after all and Zsinj once again surprised him when the Warlord asked him what the purpose of becoming Mandalore was if you lacked a stable and powerful base of operations. How did “Mandalore the Imperious” sound? Zsinj’s offer was simple serve him for a decade as his master of assassins, his chief spy and his personal head hunter and Zsinj would bankroll his attempt to unite the clans so long as the war he envisioned himself leading brought all the profits and trade through Zsinj’s own empire and so long as he didn’t mind sharing the glory. Two heads in Galactic conquest were better than one and it was a lot safer restoring his culture to its glory days with an Executor Class SSD at his back than fifty-year-old rust buckets. And even if Zsinj died or was overrun before he was able to fulfill his promise, well Rua figures he’ll be one of the wealthiest men in the galaxy at that point and paying off the ruins of the Warlord’s empire (and looting its coffers) to enlist in his goal is certainly doable. Win, win figures the Jackal.

Faction:
The Empire of Zsinj. Rua joined up with the Warlord because he was one of the few Imperial officers Rua ever respected and because their dalliances in the past had proven profitable for both of them, enough that they’ve been working together off and on since Rua was about twenty two. Beyond that, his base of operations and his source of wealth all resides within the Quelii Oversector so, refusing the offer, an offer that might one day net him his prize is not one to be refuse.

Personality: Rua Skirata in many ways is the polar opposite of the now legendary Patriarch of the Arc troopers “Papa Kal” and his own father. He’s ruthless, pragmatic and oddly soft spoken, forcing people to listen when he speaks and holding his tongue unless he’s in familiar company or has something worth saying. While he’s capable of rather terrifying savagery (At Ord Cantrell when hired by the Alliance early in his career to put a stop to some slave cartels loyal to a minor Hutt Kajidic Rua and his mercenaries crucified some eight hundred thugs in an act of psychological warfare), he prefers to use efficient, clean and quick methods first. Rua despised many Imperial officers and nearly all Dark Jedi seeing them as mindless animals who butchered on a large scale as a matter of form and viewed that as pathetic and cowardly. Grotesquerie had its place in warfare, but it had to be done rationally, not indiscriminately. His sense of honor is somewhat flexible but not to where he can easily throw it away. To this day he’s never betrayed the Jedi who hid with his clan and he’s got no ill will towards Luke Skywalker though he sees the rise of a second Jedi order as a threat to his ultimate goal of a largely Mandalorian dominated Galaxy his opposition isn’t animus. That ability to think rationally, the cold pragmatism balanced out with a sense of honor has largely kept him from being completely lost to the carnage of the imperial era. Rua is somewhat vain, he enjoys the finer things in life, loves opulence and readily plays up the lazy rich man stereotype to hide the fact that his shimmersilk conceals muscles made of coiled durasteel cables.

Physical description: Rua definitely has more of his Arkanian mother than he does his clone father, he’s stall, elegant with long dark black hair with streaks of blue due to the particular subspecies his mother hails from. He rather dislikes the blue streaks believing it makes him look like some cliché holo drama character rather than just the Galaxy’s opportunist. The scar across the left side of his face runs from above his nose town to his jaw and the ocular implant that replaced his eye is a disguised as an amethyst gem due to his own pomposity and taste for the elegant. There are some other scars on his body, a starburst pattern burns on his shoulder from his battle Dathomirian witches and scar on his thigh from that lightsaber blade. He tends to dress in elegant clothing favoring shimmer silk and suede and when he wades into battle his Mandalorian armor is done up in ornate patterns with old “spells” of blessing and well wishes in battle. The Skirata clan symbol rests on chest over his heart and he wears a navy-blue coat with the symbol of Zsjin’s Empire on the shoulder pads in place of epaulettes. This is done in mockery of the old Republican guardsmen uniforms and the Ancient Jedi robes. He always, always wears gloves of some kind and has a shimmersilk scarf about his neck that conceals micro-segmented armor scales that he can use as a whip if necessary.

Equipment: A pair of Song Steel daggers which he has sheathed and attached to a belt made of rancor leather. Three ivory handled blasters with Aurodium plating, two in shoulder holsters and one behind his back. His Mandalorian armor does not have a jetback as he disliked aerial dueling, however his boots have small devices capable of emitting AG fields that allow him to “leap frog” through the air and direct his “falls” and can allow him to match Jedi for agility to a small degree. He’s also got a personal shield device though he seldom uses it due to the energy requirements. The greaves on his forearms contain a capacitor and a relay device which he can use to turn his fists into electrical brass knuckles. Unlike most Mandalorians he doesn’t have a wrist mounted flame thrower, instead preferring to keep vials of liquid that ignites when exposed to the hormones of the bodies of most sentients, which he opts to throw at his opponents (he keeps his clothing and armor laced with a chemical that nullifies its effects on him but still has to watch out for his face). Instead of a traditional Mandalorian helm he wears a rebreather mask that shields him from toxins and chemicals and can convert some gasses into oxygen and recycle his own air. He wears a sort of coronet that produces a low-level EM field that sort of disrupts blaster bolts which usually redirects fire from his face. It’s not the safest method of protection but then again, he can be vain. He wears a shimmer silk sash with the symbols for Clan Skirata and Zsinj around his waist which is similar to the scarf about his neck in that it grants him an extra layer of protection against bladed weaponry and some minor help against blaster bolts.

Ship (Optional): The Ascent, A custom made H type Nubian Star Yacht, twenty meters longer than the average in her class with a larger powerplant and more faster engines. She’s designed to turn like a fighter and take a beating long enough to escape. Armed with twin ion cannons and one light turbo laser.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Right now, the Imperial Remnant is lacking members. Though, right now all the new characters are Force-sensitive. So, perhaps having a non-Force Sensitive character would be cool.

@Honesty Crow

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Giveth me a day or two and I should be able to toss a couple bios your way.

Star Wars: The Aftermath (A post-Battle of Endor RP)

Question, do Y'all need some evil force users Besides Jerec?

Let me know what you guys need, if no to villainous force users, I've got an a pair of OC's in mind, but I'm fine tailoring my stuff to meet the GM's needs. The Ja'Karr order is interesting too