@TheUnknowable It's a fun way to play. Forces you to be a lot more creative, and a much better writer. And it's a fun trick to use in a fight. Useless against ballistic weapons, of course, but most prefer energy weapons anyway.
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I'll post references for Djak's weapons later.
There hasn't been enough time for a shower. Djak had just stepped into the water when he'd sensed the approaching shop. Their home wasn't too far away enough from a nexus of shipping routes, so he hadn't been concerned till he'd sensed the presence aboard. A force- user, almost certainly a Jedi.
Grumbling to himself, he wrapped a towel about his person and came out of the back room. His usual harness remained behind, but he did pick up a flechette fun from its rack by the door and flock the safety off. Coming into the common area, he saw Anna leaving to confront their first and sighed. She was a sweet girl, but he felt she needed to deligate more.
So he leaned against the wall, his skin glistening from the quick rinse, his eyes lazy and his expression indolent as he cradled the heavy weapon.
Grumbling to himself, he wrapped a towel about his person and came out of the back room. His usual harness remained behind, but he did pick up a flechette fun from its rack by the door and flock the safety off. Coming into the common area, he saw Anna leaving to confront their first and sighed. She was a sweet girl, but he felt she needed to deligate more.
So he leaned against the wall, his skin glistening from the quick rinse, his eyes lazy and his expression indolent as he cradled the heavy weapon.
Glimmik music was the best workout music, in Djak's humble opinion. His muscles burned as he pushed, pushed, pushed in time with with the heavy bass beat. Sweat trickled down his red skin, flushed dark with his exertions, his fire-glass black hair soaked. He was working out in their makeshift gym, laying on his back across a row of crates, bench pressing a heavy durasteel pipe weighted at both ends.
He wasn't concerned that his music would disturb others. The tunnel was long, taking several tight turns, and the walls were soft enough to muffle most of the sound. What filtered through was a pleasant rumble, and if that was enough to hurt their delicate sensibilities, they were sensitive enough to be useless in the game of survival. Djak did like to know who was dead weight. Not that he'd leave anyone behind if he could help it... the veins in his neck stood out, and he racked the weights at last, sitting up to catch his breath.
The Zeltron hadn't touched a lightsaber in three years. He'd left it, along with his padawan braid, when he'd left the Order. His swordsmanship had never progressed beyond mere proficiency, since he'd done so much work undercover, and he didn't really feel the loss the way his companions would. His weapons harness was hung over a peg in the corner, sporting a heavy blaster pistol in a drop-down leg holster, a smaller backup blaster, and a vibroblade as long as his forearm. He was never defenseless, though. Even in workout attire, he wore another backup blaster on one calf, a vibroblade on the other. Those were his normal weapons, though. While running with the gangs of Coruscant, he'd learned how to handle bigger weapons, and kept up his practice here in exile.
Laying back down, he started another set. The tattoos on his right arm rippled as his muscles flexed with each rep. His breath came in short gasps and long huffs. The uneven edge of the crates beneath him dug into his back. He was training with free weights and no spotter, and with his ineptitude in telekinesis, if his muscles failed he would have a very difficult time of things.
Finishing at last, he sat up with a groan and stretched his aching muscles. Anna would be back in by now. He stood, still stretching, and turned off the glimmik music before picking up his harness and heading down the tunnel, intent on a good hot shower before breakfast. Through the Force, he could sense the others beginning to stir. Sahrot in particular hadn't slept well. Djak could probably have helped him with that, but it would only be a temporary reprieve.
His fingers instinctively combed through his hair before he came into the common area, raking the sweat-dampened locks into a stylish tousle. "Anna, Sera," he nodded to the two young women as he came in. "How's tricks?"
He wasn't concerned that his music would disturb others. The tunnel was long, taking several tight turns, and the walls were soft enough to muffle most of the sound. What filtered through was a pleasant rumble, and if that was enough to hurt their delicate sensibilities, they were sensitive enough to be useless in the game of survival. Djak did like to know who was dead weight. Not that he'd leave anyone behind if he could help it... the veins in his neck stood out, and he racked the weights at last, sitting up to catch his breath.
The Zeltron hadn't touched a lightsaber in three years. He'd left it, along with his padawan braid, when he'd left the Order. His swordsmanship had never progressed beyond mere proficiency, since he'd done so much work undercover, and he didn't really feel the loss the way his companions would. His weapons harness was hung over a peg in the corner, sporting a heavy blaster pistol in a drop-down leg holster, a smaller backup blaster, and a vibroblade as long as his forearm. He was never defenseless, though. Even in workout attire, he wore another backup blaster on one calf, a vibroblade on the other. Those were his normal weapons, though. While running with the gangs of Coruscant, he'd learned how to handle bigger weapons, and kept up his practice here in exile.
Laying back down, he started another set. The tattoos on his right arm rippled as his muscles flexed with each rep. His breath came in short gasps and long huffs. The uneven edge of the crates beneath him dug into his back. He was training with free weights and no spotter, and with his ineptitude in telekinesis, if his muscles failed he would have a very difficult time of things.
Finishing at last, he sat up with a groan and stretched his aching muscles. Anna would be back in by now. He stood, still stretching, and turned off the glimmik music before picking up his harness and heading down the tunnel, intent on a good hot shower before breakfast. Through the Force, he could sense the others beginning to stir. Sahrot in particular hadn't slept well. Djak could probably have helped him with that, but it would only be a temporary reprieve.
His fingers instinctively combed through his hair before he came into the common area, raking the sweat-dampened locks into a stylish tousle. "Anna, Sera," he nodded to the two young women as he came in. "How's tricks?"
Name : Djak Mikos
Age : 22
Race : Zeltron
Kin or relations : None he is aware of
Force abilites you know {Only Three to start} : Force Illusion, Tutaminis, Alter Mind (Telekinesis usually impossible. He can't move a pebble, but he can make everyone think the pebble's been moved)
History : Born on Zeltros, Djak was brought to the Jedi's attention as a young child and brought up in the Temple. His upbringing and training were unremarkable, his affinity for mental manipulation and energy absorbtion meaning that his telekinetic abilities were normally nonexistant. This never seemed to bother him, his utter confidence and blaise making him stand out among the other padawans. He was not normally arrogant--none could accuse him of such with any accuracy--but he was extremely confident in his abilities. He's always been very aware of how far he can push his powers, and he can walk up to that line with utter confidence.
As a Zeltron, he could push people farther than a regular Jedi could without being detected. His skin coloring was light enough that he appeared normally a slightly flushed or sunburned human. His Master, a human Jedi named Macrois Ve, conducted many undercover missions in the underbelly of Coruscant among the gangs. Playing up the Zeltroni heritage, Djak had a slightly easier time of gathering information than she did without exposing his Force abilities. After numerous short-term missions, the Master/Padawan team finally went for the long game, delving deep into their roles and disappearing from the Temple for five years. Djak grew to manhood deep in the cutthroat and vicious world of organized crime.
One minor event during this time was that he got a tattoo. His right arm is covered with a geometric kaleidoscope that turns into a bird of prey by the time it gets to his shoulder.
When the Clone Wars started, his mission was canceled. This was extremely frustrating--as an undercover operative, Djak had sat by and allowed many crimes to be perpetrated in order to allow the long-term goals to be achieved. Being pulled before his time was up felt like a betrayal.
Another betrayal was the use of a slave army. When he got to his new posting, Djak was shocked and dismayed to learn that clones were being used as soldiers against the Separatists, and that his fellow Jedi seemed entirely comfortable with this. Djak kept his outrage to himself, however, having no one he trusted to express these feelings to. Fortunately, he only had to cope for a short time. Being tasked with assisting his Master in handling ARC troopers, Djak was witness to several heated discussions between the Jedi commander and a short Mandalorian named Kal Skirata. Enough was said during these discussions to ensure that the Zeltroni male felt entirely justified in his final decisions.
He refused his promotion to Jedi Knight, leaving his padawan's braid and lightsaber in his room. He was one of Anna's originals, his wealth of practical experience making him invaluable to their escape and continued evasion of the Jedi.
Personality : He picked up many affectations while undercover. His hair is always perfectly gelled, and he occasionally uses suble makeup to highlight his already handsome features. When not preening, he's picking over his equipment and wardrobe, ensuring that his garments strike the perfect balance between function and form. He works out religiously, eats like a horse, and fights dirty. To his fellow padawans, he is friendly, encouraging music and other forms of recreational bonding.
Picture :
Age : 22
Race : Zeltron
Kin or relations : None he is aware of
Force abilites you know {Only Three to start} : Force Illusion, Tutaminis, Alter Mind (Telekinesis usually impossible. He can't move a pebble, but he can make everyone think the pebble's been moved)
History : Born on Zeltros, Djak was brought to the Jedi's attention as a young child and brought up in the Temple. His upbringing and training were unremarkable, his affinity for mental manipulation and energy absorbtion meaning that his telekinetic abilities were normally nonexistant. This never seemed to bother him, his utter confidence and blaise making him stand out among the other padawans. He was not normally arrogant--none could accuse him of such with any accuracy--but he was extremely confident in his abilities. He's always been very aware of how far he can push his powers, and he can walk up to that line with utter confidence.
As a Zeltron, he could push people farther than a regular Jedi could without being detected. His skin coloring was light enough that he appeared normally a slightly flushed or sunburned human. His Master, a human Jedi named Macrois Ve, conducted many undercover missions in the underbelly of Coruscant among the gangs. Playing up the Zeltroni heritage, Djak had a slightly easier time of gathering information than she did without exposing his Force abilities. After numerous short-term missions, the Master/Padawan team finally went for the long game, delving deep into their roles and disappearing from the Temple for five years. Djak grew to manhood deep in the cutthroat and vicious world of organized crime.
One minor event during this time was that he got a tattoo. His right arm is covered with a geometric kaleidoscope that turns into a bird of prey by the time it gets to his shoulder.
When the Clone Wars started, his mission was canceled. This was extremely frustrating--as an undercover operative, Djak had sat by and allowed many crimes to be perpetrated in order to allow the long-term goals to be achieved. Being pulled before his time was up felt like a betrayal.
Another betrayal was the use of a slave army. When he got to his new posting, Djak was shocked and dismayed to learn that clones were being used as soldiers against the Separatists, and that his fellow Jedi seemed entirely comfortable with this. Djak kept his outrage to himself, however, having no one he trusted to express these feelings to. Fortunately, he only had to cope for a short time. Being tasked with assisting his Master in handling ARC troopers, Djak was witness to several heated discussions between the Jedi commander and a short Mandalorian named Kal Skirata. Enough was said during these discussions to ensure that the Zeltroni male felt entirely justified in his final decisions.
He refused his promotion to Jedi Knight, leaving his padawan's braid and lightsaber in his room. He was one of Anna's originals, his wealth of practical experience making him invaluable to their escape and continued evasion of the Jedi.
Personality : He picked up many affectations while undercover. His hair is always perfectly gelled, and he occasionally uses suble makeup to highlight his already handsome features. When not preening, he's picking over his equipment and wardrobe, ensuring that his garments strike the perfect balance between function and form. He works out religiously, eats like a horse, and fights dirty. To his fellow padawans, he is friendly, encouraging music and other forms of recreational bonding.
Picture :
Name : Djak Mikos
Age : 22
Race : Zeltron
Kin or relations : None he is aware of
Force abilites you know {Only Three to start} : Force Illusion, Tutaminis, Alter Mind (Telekinesis usually impossible. He can't move a pebble, but he can make everyone think the pebble's been moved)
History : Born on Zeltros, Djak was brought to the Jedi's attention as a young child and brought up in the Temple. His upbringing and training were unremarkable, his affinity for mental manipulation and energy absorbtion meaning that his telekinetic abilities were normally nonexistant. This never seemed to bother him, his utter confidence and blaise making him stand out among the other padawans. He was not normally arrogant--none could accuse him of such with any accuracy--but he was extremely confident in his abilities. He's always been very aware of how far he can push his powers, and he can walk up to that line with utter confidence.
As a Zeltron, he could push people farther than a regular Jedi could without being detected. His skin coloring was light enough that he appeared normally a slightly flushed or sunburned human. His Master, a human Jedi named Macrois Ve, conducted many undercover missions in the underbelly of Coruscant among the gangs. Playing up the Zeltroni heritage, Djak had a slightly easier time of gathering information than she did without exposing his Force abilities. After numerous short-term missions, the Master/Padawan team finally went for the long game, delving deep into their roles and disappearing from the Temple for five years. Djak grew to manhood deep in the cutthroat and vicious world of organized crime.
One minor event during this time was that he got a tattoo. His right arm is covered with a geometric kaleidoscope that turns into a bird of prey by the time it gets to his shoulder.
When the Clone Wars started, his mission was canceled. This was extremely frustrating--as an undercover operative, Djak had sat by and allowed many crimes to be perpetrated in order to allow the long-term goals to be achieved. Being pulled before his time was up felt like a betrayal.
Another betrayal was the use of a slave army. When he got to his new posting, Djak was shocked and dismayed to learn that clones were being used as soldiers against the Separatists, and that his fellow Jedi seemed entirely comfortable with this. Djak kept his outrage to himself, however, having no one he trusted to express these feelings to. Fortunately, he only had to cope for a short time. Being tasked with assisting his Master in handling ARC troopers, Djak was witness to several heated discussions between the Jedi commander and a short Mandalorian named Kal Skirata. Enough was said during these discussions to ensure that the Zeltroni male felt entirely justified in his final decisions.
He refused his promotion to Jedi Knight, leaving his padawan's braid and lightsaber in his room. He was one of Anna's originals, his wealth of practical experience making him invaluable to their escape and continued evasion of the Jedi.
Personality : He picked up many affectations while undercover. His hair is always perfectly gelled, and he occasionally uses suble makeup to highlight his already handsome features. When not preening, he's picking over his equipment and wardrobe, ensuring that his garments strike the perfect balance between function and form. He works out religiously, eats like a horse, and fights dirty. To his fellow padawans, he is friendly, encouraging music and other forms of recreational bonding.
Picture :
Age : 22
Race : Zeltron
Kin or relations : None he is aware of
Force abilites you know {Only Three to start} : Force Illusion, Tutaminis, Alter Mind (Telekinesis usually impossible. He can't move a pebble, but he can make everyone think the pebble's been moved)
History : Born on Zeltros, Djak was brought to the Jedi's attention as a young child and brought up in the Temple. His upbringing and training were unremarkable, his affinity for mental manipulation and energy absorbtion meaning that his telekinetic abilities were normally nonexistant. This never seemed to bother him, his utter confidence and blaise making him stand out among the other padawans. He was not normally arrogant--none could accuse him of such with any accuracy--but he was extremely confident in his abilities. He's always been very aware of how far he can push his powers, and he can walk up to that line with utter confidence.
As a Zeltron, he could push people farther than a regular Jedi could without being detected. His skin coloring was light enough that he appeared normally a slightly flushed or sunburned human. His Master, a human Jedi named Macrois Ve, conducted many undercover missions in the underbelly of Coruscant among the gangs. Playing up the Zeltroni heritage, Djak had a slightly easier time of gathering information than she did without exposing his Force abilities. After numerous short-term missions, the Master/Padawan team finally went for the long game, delving deep into their roles and disappearing from the Temple for five years. Djak grew to manhood deep in the cutthroat and vicious world of organized crime.
One minor event during this time was that he got a tattoo. His right arm is covered with a geometric kaleidoscope that turns into a bird of prey by the time it gets to his shoulder.
When the Clone Wars started, his mission was canceled. This was extremely frustrating--as an undercover operative, Djak had sat by and allowed many crimes to be perpetrated in order to allow the long-term goals to be achieved. Being pulled before his time was up felt like a betrayal.
Another betrayal was the use of a slave army. When he got to his new posting, Djak was shocked and dismayed to learn that clones were being used as soldiers against the Separatists, and that his fellow Jedi seemed entirely comfortable with this. Djak kept his outrage to himself, however, having no one he trusted to express these feelings to. Fortunately, he only had to cope for a short time. Being tasked with assisting his Master in handling ARC troopers, Djak was witness to several heated discussions between the Jedi commander and a short Mandalorian named Kal Skirata. Enough was said during these discussions to ensure that the Zeltroni male felt entirely justified in his final decisions.
He refused his promotion to Jedi Knight, leaving his padawan's braid and lightsaber in his room. He was one of Anna's originals, his wealth of practical experience making him invaluable to their escape and continued evasion of the Jedi.
Personality : He picked up many affectations while undercover. His hair is always perfectly gelled, and he occasionally uses suble makeup to highlight his already handsome features. When not preening, he's picking over his equipment and wardrobe, ensuring that his garments strike the perfect balance between function and form. He works out religiously, eats like a horse, and fights dirty. To his fellow padawans, he is friendly, encouraging music and other forms of recreational bonding.
Picture :
@Sohtem Oh, they're a great species. I played as them exclusively on SWTOR.
Well, nowadays Star Wars canon is so higgly-piggly I wouldn't be surprised if one of the new movies made purebloods not-extinct.
Wait... a sith pureblood in the Clone Wars Era?
Sounds like a good way to get back into this website. I'll join too.
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