Star Wars: Legacies [OOC/Open/Reboot]

by **The Nameless Wayfarer** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:29 pm

The galaxy is on the brink of war, yet again...

Not too surprising, is it? I mean, a Galactic Civil War practically happens every week- but, I digress.

Galactic civilization, having faced the return of the Sith and the horrors of their regime under the brutal Darth Krayt, is still violently shaken. Events such as the massacre of the Jedi at Ossus and the genocide of the Mon Calamari sent ripples of shock and awe across known space and beyond. While the use of extreme displays of force pacified minor sectors, it ignited the fires of revolution in countless others, like that of the Hutts and the Corellians. Even supposedly neutral, sovereign systems, such as the Hapes Cluster and the Chiss Ascendancy, quickly turned their coats and supported the Alliance Remnant and the Fel Empire in the face of such travesty. The Jedi, Imperial Knights, Stormtroopers and many more were united under a single goal: to bring down the Sith, and to bring them down for good. And so, they did, with the help of the legendary force-user Cade Skywalker and other heroes, like the brilliant Duros Admiral Gar Stazi and the Emperor-in-exile, Roan Fel.

With Krayt slain and his order of the One Sith defeated, a galaxy-wide age of reconstruction began, first and foremost of the capitol world of Coruscant. However, while Coruscant was being rebuilt, other regions decayed even further. One such place, the Outer Rim, was virtually cut off from the rest of developed and civilized space following the Sith-Imperial War, despite the efforts of the Galactic Triumvirate to reestablish its communication relays. Systems ravaged by the Sith, each more worse than the last, attempted to reclaim their now-barren worlds or find new places to call home. The Galactic Triumvirate struggled to keep the peace- everyone wanted results, and everyone wanted them the next day. As all political pacts do, the Galactic Triumvirate made promises they couldn't keep; and then, they fractured under the weight of their own hubris, and more notably, the demands of a grief-stricken galaxy.

The Galactic Federation, the successor state of the Alliance, still holds Coruscant as its socio-political center, while the new non-Sith Empire retreats to the planet Bastion and its surrounding Imperial-aligned worlds, locking themselves in their own sector and slowly rebuilding what was lost amidst the war. With the Sith virtually extinguished, the Jedi Order, under a new council headed by Master K'Kruhk, retreats into isolation, focusing on their more monastic and nonviolent roots. With no Jedi to mediate the rising tensions between the factions of the fractured galaxy for the first time in millennia, many wonder what will happen to not only the Alliance and the Empire, but the galaxy as we know it.

Only time will tell what fate has in store for our civilization.

War- it brings out the best, and more often than not, the worst in people. The vicious cycle of villains seizing power and protagonists, the epitomes of all things good, rising and defeating them continues to turn. In fact, it seems like history is repeating itself monotonously, albeit with different, more cliche names (the second Death Star). Massive space stations are blown up through convoluted plans; old, creepy tyrants are dethroned, and for some reason, a person with a fish-head keeps yelling, “It’s a trap!” Regardlessly, it’s times like these that heroes are forged. Farm-boys turn into ace pilots, and your average gunslinger becomes ranked amongst the galaxy’s most legendary, even though we all know he's a complete scumbag. Ordinary folks turn into somebodies over-night, through courage, handsomeness and all around bad-assery.

In a stroke of luck, you have absolutely none of these qualities. Yeah, I know- fate's a freaky mistress.

What do you do, living life on the bottom rung, as these two-dimensional heroic-types drink expensive Coruscanti wine and toast it up with heads of state? Easy- you do whatever it is you do to survive in this cold, unforgiving galaxy. You make ends meet. Regardless of whether you're a bounty-hunter or a freight pilot, you have one goal; and that's to make it big, and more importantly, make big money. You're no stranger to the truth: credits make the world go 'round... and you desperately want to be the one spinning it.

So, you go out on a limb and take a chance, a chance at greatness.

You find a job posting in a local bar, an ad on the HoloNet, or a rumor in a star port, all saying the same thing. “Help wanted,” and, “Mercenary work,” are some keywords that you may notice. Yet, what really grabs your attention is, “Easy credits.” That bit jumps out at you, and it’s hard to look away from- like a starship wreck, or a Jawa going on a spice-fueled bender. Surely, you want to help, you want to find work… but what you really want is some extra spending money to buy that pair of vintage Westar-35s you saw a couple yards back. You know what I’m talking about; they were in that shady bazaar, the one with the Twi’lek that claimed he had the very pair of undies that Leia Organa wore when she blew up the second Death Star. No? Okay, whatever- you could really use the credits.

And so, you do what any person of your unique mental state would do. You inquire with the barkeep, read the ad further, or totally just jump into the conversation between those who were talking about it, inevitably making things awkward until they tell you where you need to go. However you go about it, you’re lead through contact after contact, with each one telling you to go to this guy, then that guy’s friend, and then that guy’s friend’s cousin. Ultimately, you find yourself somewhere in the Outer Rim, on what used to be an asteroid mining facility and what is now a city… of sorts. Let’s just say old Ben Kenobi’s quote regarding Mos Eisley is not too far fetched for this little slice of heaven. Truly, you will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.

You’ve followed the paper trail this far. Yet, you still haven’t met your benefactor- the man, woman, or genderless space octopus that could very well be your new boss. With one last piece of information: the address of an unsavory (depending on whom you ask) cantina by the name of the Wampa’s Den, and the directions to ask the Zeltron barmaid there for some person named, “The Captain,” you set out to finish the first chapter of your painfully frustrating yet exciting story.

Oh, and trust me, there’s plenty more where that came from. - The Narrator

by **The Nameless Wayfarer** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:30 pm

Application Format

You, the writer, can create a character of your choosing- you can choose his or her species, abilities and the like. However, your character must be accepted by the OP (the Nameless Wayfarer) and his standards. I ask that you do not make wholly Jedi or Sith characters; I may consider a former Jedi or Sith, if I feel confident enough that you won't make them cheesy and over-powered. The number of force-users in the crew will be limited, so explore alternate routes and get innovative. For example, I'd much prefer a foul-mouthed Jawa mechanic to a Jedi who become disillusioned with being a goody two-shoes.

Considering this role-play is mean't to be made up of a close-knit crew (as to craft a better story), spots are limited, and I will be very selective in which applications I accept.

by **The Nameless Wayfarer** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:30 pm

The Crew

by **The Nameless Wayfarer** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:30 pm

RESERVED FOR EPISODES.

by **Platypus Reborn** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:36 pm

Name: Deryk Testa
Species: Human

Gender: Male
Age: 20
Appearance: Long Black hair, Pale face
Height: 5'7"

Profile Picture: http://vignette2.wikia.nocookie.net/got ... 0531171636

Skills and Abilities:

Firearms: 9
Piloting: 7
Charisma: 4
Bargaining: 5
Intimidation: 7
Loyalty: 8

Inventory: A black, Vibro-shortsword and a Carbine Blaster

Carbine: http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/swf ... 1028040913

Biography: Deryk woke up one dark, night without any memories of himself and his past. He doesn't know his actual name, he just took it from the first man he killed (That he knows of), who happened to be some random thug. He took the Carbine from the dead thug and he notcied that he saw a sheath underneath some garbage. He pulled it out to reveal his signature Vibroblade. Deryk assumed that it was his and took it. For the next two months he took on-and-off jobs until he found a "Help Wanted" sign. What caught his eye was the "Easy Credits" part. With no memories, no money, and his only purpose is to figure out his identity, he figures that he might as well sign up.

Assessed Threat Level: (The OP will decide this following the analysis of your application)

by **Bycrest** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:39 pm

Name: HK-94
Species: Droid

Gender: No gender, associates as male
Age: 10 years since production
Appearance: Pretty much the same as the picture but with a black and red paint job and not stepping out of a molten metal vat. 1.4 meters tall and weighing around 150 pounds.

Profile Picture:

Skills and Abilities:
Assassinating: 9
Protocol: 4
Negotiation: 5
Tactics: 8
Weapon Mastery: 7
Navigation: 5
Hacking and programming: 8
Ranged combat: 9
Melee combat: 7
Piloting: 1
Empathetic Thought: 0
Interrogation/Intimidation: 9

Attributes:
Intelligence - 9
Wisdom - 4
Charisma - 0
Strength - 5
Perception - 6
Agility - 5

Inventory: HK-94 is equipped with a Droid Assassins Rifle, a sniper rifle, dual blaster pistols, an attachable flamethrower arm, a missile launcher arm, an attachable carbonite spray arm, and jet boots.

Biography: HK-94's original design was to be twice as good as the infamous and renown HK-47. However due to a pacification law that was passed to make HK units more focused on protocol instead of
assassination. The designer didn't like that idea so he finished HK-94 in secret with the original design but with more of a focus on it being a killing machine. It's Ai learned mimicked almost everything about HK-47 and is basically a clone of the original, except it has more of an affinity for bounty hunting. HK-94 was skilled at the job, preferring to take bounties in dead rather than alive but would do so if needed. He mainly did it for the hunt and the thrill of the kill. Eventually he got a bounty to kill his own creator which he did without hesitation, proving he is a cold killing machine. the funny thing was that his creator expected the outcome and was satisfied his project was a success. Without to much work for a cold killing machine without an organic to guide it, HK-94 didn't get much normal work, which brings him to accepting the mercenary work and joining the crew.

Assessed Threat Level: (The OP will decide this following the analysis of your application)

by **The Republic of American Freedom** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:41 pm

by **Free Empire of the Low Isles** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:45 pm

Tag?
Most certainly tagged.

by **The Nameless Wayfarer** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 8:46 pm

Platypus Reborn wrote:Is there a form we submit? Like any guidelines?

Character application forms and more supplementary information will be on their way tomorrow.

by **Cerrania** » Wed Nov 04, 2015 9:11 pm

Tag v2.

by **Zeinbrad** » Thu Nov 05, 2015 2:37 am

Hello again.

by **Austria and Bavaria** » Thu Nov 05, 2015 6:13 am

Hmm, this seems familiar.

by **Tyradel** » Thu Nov 05, 2015 1:03 pm

Name: Braxsan "Big Brax" Martroan

Species: Human

Gender: Male

Age: 28

Appearance: Braxsan stands tall at 6'4 in height and weighs 224lbs on a rather muscular frame. His darkbrown, almost black, hair is medium in length and stylishly kept. His face is young for 28 and is often lined by a stubbly beard. His brown eyes lack any sort of glimmer of hope, but burn with a subtle look of determination.

Profile Picture:

Skills & Abilities:
Blaster Pistols - 6
Blaster Carbines - 6
Melee Combat - 7
Deception - 8
Negotiation - 5
Piloting - 2
Slicing - 6
Pick-Pocket - 6
Forgery- 7

Inventory: Blaster Pistol in shoulder holster, Blaster Carbine (typically carried in a case), small boot knife, light armored vest usually worn under "street clothes" and a small assortment of slicers' tools. 1 pair black pants, 1 dark blue longs-sleeve shirt, 1 black leather jacket, 1 holo-communicator.

Background: A former covert agent for the "Bureau" in Imperial Intelligence, Braxsan is rather charismatic and skilled at gathering information from people as well as machines. After leaving the Empire he used his skills to work wherever he could. He has a basic understanding of the Echani martial arts, taught to him during his service with the Bureau.

Biography: Born as the middle child to a rather wealthy family on Corellia, Braxsan typically found himself in trouble, usually for fighting. He often felt neglected and overlooked, due to his siblings' achievements. His brothers, Jax and Tyson, were always gaining favor from his parents, no matter what they did. Unlike his siblings, Braxsan could never do anything right and always ended up sneaking out of his room to wander the streets. Late at night Braxsan would end up fighting other wayward youth's in streets or evading CorSec officers. Around the age of 11 he ended up joining a small street gang of teenagers. He would be found on the streets pick-pocketing random people or convincing unwary store owners to let him work overnight stocking product only to let his gang-mates in to loot the place of anything valuable. He quickly learned to forge papers so no one would know his real identity. This pattern of behavior went on until early adulthood when he was arrested and jailed for 3 years.

After his release, Braxsan got a job working for his fathers technology manufacturing business. Grateful but feeling worthless Braxsan would end up spending most of his money on booze and women. One evening, Braxsan went out drinking with his close friends. He called for his older brother to come and take him home as he had one too many drinks and his friends had left him at the bar. His brother arrived, angry as usual, along with his father. An argument between them and Braxsan quickly turned violent. Braxsan swung a half full bottle of booze at his brother hitting him square in the head; as Braxsan would learn later putting him into a coma. His father enraged, succumbed to a heart attack in the bar as well.

Braxsan made a hasty decision to run, albeit drunkenly. He managed to sneak is way aboard a ship, destination unknown. He would awake several hours later to the figure of a woman standing over him, Blaster drawn. She looked tough and confident, maybe a a year or two older than Braxsan. Her name was Sumbri Reymay and she worked with Imperial Intelligence, he would later find out as he was being taken to a cell. Braxsan was eventually imprisoned and was most certainly going to face death as a "spy" until Sumbri convinced the right people to give him the option of joining the Operations Bureau of Imperial Intelligence, under close supervision. She knew his background from a records check and one of her sources on Corellia was member of the street gang he used to be in. She saw his potential and couldn't stand to see a potential asset go to waste.

Braxsan jumped at the opportunity, not knowing the hardships that would follow. Training was tough, especially the indoctrination period. He enjoyed the training in the Echani Martial Arts and was doing rather well, although he wished the training lasted longer. He also learned a little about slicing and how to infiltrate networks and slice into security systems. After 2 more years of formal and field training he would get his first real assignment, stationed in the outer rim with Sumbri. They would eventually fall for each other and begin a passionate relationship. Once Intelligence HQ learned of the relationship, Sumbri was re-assigned to a field base in Coruscant. This did not sit well with Braxsan, things were finally going well for him in his life and I.I. ripped one of the most important people out of his life. He wanted to follow her but knew he would only be tracked and captured.

After the demise of the Empire, Braxsan made another hasty choice to desert the now disheveled Imperial Intelligence and search for Sumbri. But first he needed credits and a common job would work, especially one aboard a freighter or other ship that could get him closer to Sumbri, wherever she may be now.

by **Servinta** » Thu Nov 05, 2015 1:15 pm

Waiting for App info and I'll be in this for sure.

by **Ularn** » Fri Nov 06, 2015 5:17 am

So I was drafting an intro post for my character (I know; we don't even have an app section up yet and I'm already writing posts) and got so far before wanting to discard it because it was making my character look too mean. I'm looking to create a genuinely nice girl with street smarts and maybe a potty mouth - like Kaylee from Firefly if she was played by Ruby Rose. Just now I'm trying to reconcile all that and not being entirely successful; she's coming across as too cocky right now - too much like a genuine badass instead of someone who's simply used to hanging around them.

So yeah, I'm not going to use most of the drafted intro but I like the writing too much to dump it, so I'll just leave this here. Enjoy!

Cantinas like this were easily found all over the galaxy - assuming you wanted to look for them. They were the sort of places an honest man could probably go for a quiet drink if they kept to themselves without bothering the regulars but usually honest people were smart enough to leave well enough alone. Past a set of blast doors that were probably less for show than the gammorean bouncer outside them, the interior was pungent with the scents of illicit chemicals and lit inadequately with a spaghetti of neon lights. It was early afternoon so the clientele were scattered and subdued, quietly regarding their drinks in solitude. A close look at any of them might suggest a glint of durasteel or the outline of a blaster beneath a concealing coat. No-one gave a close look; you might get something else back.
The only table occupied by more than one person was a booth in the furthest corner from the door. Three people sat around it; a pallid, middle-aged gungan male with a pot belly sat next to a wrinkled rodian with an apparent death stick habit and opposite them both was a human female. She was in her mid-twenties, the youngest person in the bar by a wide margin, with a scalp shaved bald and a slender, athletic frame. She wore a set of dark cargo shorts and a form-fitting white tank top that revealed a rust red tattoo over her back, left shoulder and arm. Alone among the trio, she looked at ease, leant back casually in her chair as she eyed the cards on the table between them.
"My hand," she declared.
The gungan grumbled darkly, "Yousa bombad."
"Sure echuta; mesa mui bombad cheeka," the skin-headed girl mocked in a bastardised mix of gungan and Huttese street slang, then narrowed her eyes, "Now hand over the karking credits."
The gungan reluctantly stuffed a fat fist into a pocket of his tatty leather waistcoat and rummaged around for a moment before tossing a handful of credit tokens onto the table. The woman counted them in a glance before flicking her eyes back to the gungan. "Do I look like a Hutt, echuta?"
"What? N-nosa!"
"Then why you short changin' me? You bet forty credits; spew up!"
"Dis alla mula mesa have!" the gungan begged, jowls wobbling pathetically. Elsewhere a heads turned up from their drinks to lend a surly eye to the commotion.
"Shut up," she snapped then looked at the rodian, "What about you? You gonna cover your buddy's debt?

by **Free Empire of the Low Isles** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 5:12 pm

Hmm...

Well, does anyone want to play some Sabacc?

by **The Nameless Wayfarer** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 6:09 pm

Free Empire of the Low Isles wrote:Hmm...

Well, does anyone want to play some Sabacc?

No, thank you. The last time I played sabacc I lost my pants to a rather pervy-looking Hutt...

Any way, here's the app form. Please, use its exact format- or you'll anger some sort of vengeful deity.

by **Bycrest** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 7:05 pm

Would being a droid be okay?

by **The Nameless Wayfarer** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 7:09 pm

Bycrest wrote:Would being a droid be okay?

Indeed, it would.

by **Zeinbrad** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 7:56 pm

Name: Broomi Kardem-Nicknames-Smuggly-An nickname given to her by a Sullustian with a barebones grasp of Basic, Stowaway-A reference to her often jumping across ship to ship.
Species: Human

Gender: Female
Age: 24
Appearance: -Mostly wears her hair like in her profile picture,may occasionally wear it in a ponytail or cut it shorter. She is about 5'6 and physically fit.

Profile Picture:

Skills and Abilities: Piloting-8
Quickdrawing-7
Brawling-7
Medicine-3
Mechanic/Repairing-4

Inventory: Placeholder-Blaster Hold, Vibroknife, Scattergun (Slugthrower) hidden in pant legs.

Biography:Broomi was born in the Outer Rim to Mikhos and Jiline Kardem, two smugglers who happened to have a shotgun marriage after a one nightstand in Tatooine, which Broomi was the byproduct of. Even when she was a wee baby Broomi was travelling the stars, her parents now partners, both business and romantic. The childhood and teenage years of Broomi's life was one of small time Smuggling with the odd shootout every now and again with either rival criminals or Imperial Stormtroopers trying to arrest the family business. The Kardem family stayed out of both of the Sith-Imperial War and Second Imperial Civil War, through Broomi did vaguely remember strange persons wearing robes on her family YT-1300 apparently paying for transport from 'hunters'.

And it never got boring, Broomi beginning to see why her parents choose this career. She began to pick up the skills from quickdrawing, luck, quick thinking,ace piloting and even flirting with pretty much any man giving trouble or in need of persuasion.

Then, when Broomi was 19 and about three weeks after Darth Krayt overthrew Emperor Fel, her parents left her on The Wheel to haggle a client as they went off to get the goods. As she watched their YT-1300 light freighter fly off, Imperial Raiders flew in with two Ardent-Class Fast Frigates,and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, the YT-1300, and Broomi's parents, were gone in a bright explosion. Everything besides what was on her back, was gone. The Imperial Raiders, who according to a source founded by Broomi were commanded by the war criminal Captain Kalos Mandu (who is believed to still be at large even if he was supposedly killed at the Battle of Ralltiir by Alliance forces) who launched countless raids against both neutral-Alliance leaning and outright Alliance supporting space stations and colonies. Through she wishes to kill the man with her bare hands, Broomi know's that will never happen.

Broomi is still a small-time Smuggler, who despite showing a great talent, is content with staying small time. She now works odd jobs, hoping to get her own ship instead of flying with both the good, the bad and the ugly. If you aren't a lawman or Imperial (that she knows of), Broomi is a polite if flirty young women, who often changes tone and emotion suddenly and loves a good drink.

Assessed Threat Level: (The OP will decide this following the analysis of your application)

by **Cerrania** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 8:22 pm

Name: Ssethis "Jaws" Vesthix
Species: Barabel

Gender: Male
Age: 22
Appearance: Ssethis is a rather large fellow. Standing at 6'9" with a massively muscular physique, he is an intimidating sight to look at. The most distinguishing feature of Ssethis is his dark green scales, which cover the entirety of his body. He has very broad shoulders, and an abnormally short tail for his species. He has a mouth full of long, viciously sharp teeth. His eyes are a bright yellow, and dart back and forth quite frequently. He has both clawed hands and feet, and dresses in traditional armor from his homeworld, Barab.

Profile Picture: (url)

Skills and Abilities:

Combat(Ranged): 8
Combat(Melee): 8
Piloting: 5
Negotiation: 2
Various Scientific...Things: 4
Empathetic Thought: 1

Inventory:

Weapons: C6-UA Slugthrower, Two Barab Vibroblades, Shockboxing gauntlets
Clothing: Barabel Armor, left side
Accessories: One necklace of trophies, mostly of barabel teeth, one credit chip, one handwritten note from a clutchmate

Biography: Ssethis has had quite the violent, if brief, life. Since his conception, he has had to fight for a place. In the clutch, in the pack, on a crew, in the ring. It didn't matter, fighting and killing were a second nature to Ssethis before he was six. It wasn't that he particularly liked killing - though he has grown fond of it over the years - it was that it was a necessity.

Ssesthis' life before he left Barab didn't really matter, in all honesty. Not because he was irrelevant, but because every Barabel underwent similar trials. He was born, and almost immediately was forced to fight or die in his clutch. He managed to slaughter three of his fellow offspring before his parents separated the survivors and began to actually raise them. I use "raise" in broad terms. It was more of, "Go find food, I'm busy cleaning my teeth." Ssethis had to adapt at an early to Barabellic culture, or he would die of starvation or an angry parent.

However, when he was thirteen - almost a fully developed adult - Ssethis was captured by slave traders. They kept him for four years as a gladiator, touring him around planet as "Jaws, the Fearless Warrior". For a while, Ssethis enjoyed it, and it certainly honed his combat skills. At the end of those four years was when Ssethis decided he was tired of being a slave. Before one of the largest fights of his career, he bribed several of the guards with his substantial earnings - which his owners foolishly let him keep. When the fight was concluded, Ssethis standing over his opponent's body in triumph, his owners emerged from the stands to congratulate him. He murdered them. In broad daylight. In front of an entire arena. The guards that would normally be charged with capturing him were out buying spices and dangling their credits in front of a busty Twi'Lek. Ssethis took their ship and - using what knowledge he had picked up about piloting from eavesdropping his owners - left the planet. then he took their ship and left the planet.

Ssethis somewhat disappeared for ten years after that, operating under the false name of Vortak as a mercenary in the Black Suns Company, running guns and blasting heads in the Outer Rim Territories. It was while he was with this firm that he found the ad for "easy credits". He wasn't particularly stiffed for credits at the moment, but 'easy' had never been a part of his vocabulary, so perhaps it was time for a change.

Assessed Threat Level: (The OP will decide this following the analysis of your application)

by **Free Empire of the Low Isles** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 8:28 pm

Name: Vrasha'sama'liso, Asamal, Red Eyes
Race: Chiss
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Appearance: Asamal is about 6'3 in height, and about 158 pounds in weight. He has the same blue skin as his fellow Chiss, as well as the recognizable red eyes. He has the somewhat less common black hair color, and typically wears his hair long, to his shoulders, and tied back into a pony tail. He could be considered handsome, if you like Chiss. He has scars on his body from vibroknives, vibroswords, and blasters. Even a few burn marks here and there. Surprisingly, his face is nearly untouched, the only blemish on it being a scar from underneath his right eye, down his cheekbone, to his jaw. He has many black tattoos across his body, proclaiming allegiances to certain gangs, cartels, families, and other criminal syndicates on Csilla. He has a brand on his left shoulder blade, three crescent moons surrounded in a circle, with wings sprouting from the sides of the circle.
Profile Picture:

Attributes:
Intelligence - 8
Wisdom - 4
Charisma - 7
Strength - 4
Perception - 7
Agility - 5

Skills:
Shooting(Handguns) - 9
Shooting(Rifles) - 7
Hand-to-hand(Knives and brawling) - 5
Lying - 10
Charming - 8
Piloting(Starships) - 4
Piloting(Speeders & speederbikes) - 6
Intimidating - 9
Force Abilities - 0.00

Inventory: 2x Black leather boots, 1x gray pants, 1x black shirt, 1x leather duster, 1x Charric handgun, 3x Vibroknives, 1x long-range blaster rifle, 30x credits, 1x satchel

Biography: Hey! Hey! Why'd ya stick me in here? Whattya mean, give my story? What if I don't want to?... Silent treatment, eh? Fine... I'll tell my story.

My name is Asamal to most, Vrasha'sama'liso to the beggars on Csilla, that street kid to everybody else on Csilla, and Red Eyes to the Cartel. My mother was a simple woman on Csilla, a prostitute with a lot of compassion and street smarts. She never told me who my dad was. Said he was a high-brass ass with nothing better to do, and she knew he'd kill us both if he ever knew I was born. Great start to life, eh? Really set for success, I was. Anyway, my mother was a prostitute on the lower end streets of Csalpar, earning a living the only way she could. I was a street urchin without a care in the world, running around with friends, beating up a few bullies here and there, getting a few creds from the drunks with my unnaturally persuasive attitude, and getting home in time for a nice dinner with my mom. And then shoved out of the house again so she could make some more money for dinner tomorrow night... Eh, that sounded a little harsh, right? When I said 'shoved', I meant it in the nicest, most loving way possible. My mother really did love me, she just... didn't want me exposed to what she did in the night. So, that went on for about, eh, ten or twelve years. Then the spice gangs and cartels started moving a bit more violently in the neighborhood. What? Did ya not expect Csilla to have crime? Oh, trust me. It has the same amount of crime as any major capital planet, even if the Chiss are isolationist to hell and back. In fact, that just might mean we have more crime! Anyway, the gangs started moving in, and my mother was starting to pick up a few more... disreputable types than usual. Yeah, I met a few gangers back in the day, a lot of spice traders, and even a serial killer once. That guy was weird. Oh, but my favorite person to meet on the street? The smugglers. Man, those guys had everything. Smarts, charm, quick fingers and eyes. They could take all the credits out of your pocket either without you noticing, or by you handing it to them yourself! Best of guys, smugglers. Eventually, as I grew a bit more used to the criminal presence, I started getting more confident. I was talking to a few spice traders, a few smugglers, eventually began running errands for them. Bringing a bit of credits for my old mother, eh? It was good, easy work, running parcels and other things. I got so good they used to ask for me by name! That grew into a good business for me. I learned the basics of smuggling from the guys and gals I worked for, and then started buying and selling some myself. At the age of sixteen, I was on of the lieutenants of a Cartel running out of one of Csilla's many ports. I bought from suppliers, made deals, sold a bit here and there, eventually got my mother to move out of the old hood into a safer one. She started making more money, I started making more money, everything was good. And then... they got to good. The law got scent of all the smuggling, and it got to the point were we couldn't pay them off anymore. The Cartel I worked for had to disband, I lost my position and most of my contacts, and nearly got caught and put away for a good, long time. It was not fun. It was around the time that I was 18 that I joined the Ton Vuszi. They were a gang that did a lot of things back in the day. Spice, weapons, slaves, any kind of goods trading. They also did assassinations, political coercions, extortion. They were like the Hutt Cartel, but only Chiss. I was a lieutenant in the system, but there were a lot of lieutenants in the Ton Vuszi. I did my thing, trading spice, weapons, and about anything I could get my hands on with my crew. And then, word came down the chain of command that the Ch'att Vuszi wanted me to do a hit. I was alright with a blaster, and probably the best with a rifle in the organization. I couldn't say no. My mother was in need of some cash badly, and this job was as good as I had seen in a while.
I was twenty when I killed my father, Crahsystor Hrim'bish'nuruodo, twenty-two when the trial was done and they banished me from the Chiss Ascendency, twenty-three when I landed here on Coruscant. I was tortured, beaten, destroyed by my own people, by people who could have been my family, and later I found out I was set up by the Ch'att Vuszi so he could be free while the rest of the Ton Vuszi were jailed. I have not talked to my mother for three years, I do not even know if she's alive.
I killed my father in the middle of the announcement that he had a son... and that it was me.

May I go now? Thank you.

*Subject left Coruscant a few days after this recording for the Outer Rim. Purpose: Unknown. Purpose of Interview: Prospective Intelligence Agent.*

Assessed Threat Level: (To be Determined)

by **Free Empire of the Low Isles** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 8:34 pm

The Nameless Wayfarer wrote:
Free Empire of the Low Isles wrote:Hmm...

Well, does anyone want to play some Sabacc?

No, thank you. The last time I played sabacc I lost my pants to a rather pervy-looking Hutt...

Any way, here's the app form. Please, use its exact format- or you'll anger some sort of vengeful deity.

Name: (Tell us your character's name, including any nicknames or titles he or she has)
Species: (What is the species of your character)

Gender: (This part's pretty self-explanatory; at least, I would think so)
Age: (How old is your character at the present time of our story)
Appearance: (Describe, in detail, what your character looks like physically)

Profile Picture: (A picture of any type that fits your character's appearance to some degree)

Skills and Abilities: (What are your character's skills, on a scale from one to ten)

Inventory: (Your character's on-hand inventory; include weapons, clothing and accessories)

Biography: (Describe an in-depth account of your character's past, including events leading up to the present moment)

Assessed Threat Level: (The OP will decide this following the analysis of your application)

You're gonna have to tell me about that sometime.

by **Zeinbrad** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 10:20 pm

Looks like I'm the person who fixes and pilots the ship.

by **Ularn** » Sat Nov 07, 2015 10:31 pm

This is my app. There are many like it, but this one is mine!

Name: Freyja "Flak" Lakkin
Species: Human

Gender: Female
Age: 25
Appearance: Standing about a metre and seventy centimetres tall, Flak is slimy built with a toned physique from hauling heavy engine parts around day after day. She has blue eyes, several piercings including a stud in her lower lip and a bar in her left eyebrow, and normally shaves her head bald but occasionally sports some blonde fuzz when she forgets to take care of it. People have told her she would look pretty if she let her hair grow back but she finds people take her more seriously looking like she walked off the streets of a bad neighbourhood.
While at work she usually wears black safety boots, kneepads and a set of stained red overalls with the sleeves tied around her waist, revealing an equally dirty white crop top. A pattern of tattoos falls down her spine and across her left shoulder and upper arm.

Profile Picture:

(Still a Work in Progress)

Skills and Abilities:
Mechanic - 8
Computing - 7
Negotiation - 7
Huttese (Language) - 6
Improvised Weapons - 4
Brawling - 3
Shotguns - 1
Blaster Pistols - 2

Inventory: Although she's never been in a firefight, Flak does own a couple of weapons for intimidation value. As a result, she favours large, impressive-looking weapons, especially those that are effective in the tight confines of a starship. She owns an FC-1 Flechette Launcher and keeps a Model 434 Heavy Blaster Pistol in a holster in her toolbelt, which also invariably holds just about any tool or piece of equipment a mechanic could need at a given time in an engine room. The rest are typically packed into a toolbox or scattered all around the engine room depending on how tidy she's feeling.

Biography: Growing up in the Coruscant Undercity, Flak was the eldest of three children born to parents that did not have much but still tried to do the best for them. Freyja stayed in school until she was thirteen, spending her free time in the the latter years working in a machine shop to help her family make ends meet. There she learned the basics of mechanics and discovered an affinity for patching together the various appliances and occasional vehicles that came through.
At thirteen she managed to get work at an unlicensed spaceport and quit school altogether. Her parents were unhappy about it but Flak had found her career and had all the education she needed to do it. She made good money servicing the ships belonging to smugglers and keeping quiet about the illegal cargoes she saw being fed into the slums. The work might not have been glamorous but she was doing what she loved; fixing machines and at the same time learning the principles of spaceflight and starship design and hyperdrives. As she did, she found herself thinking more about the ships themselves, where they were going, and the galaxy beyond her own dank stretch of Coruscant's shanty town. In a shady job in a rough neighbourhood, she learned to handle herself around the rough types that sometimes gave her hassle. When she failed to talk her way out of a situation, a wrench to the forehead often did the trick. Otherwise, she got to know a few rough types of her own.
At nineteen she found a smuggler captain in need of an engineer. She left her homeworld and said goodbye to her family, promising to send them back credits whenever she could, so that her little sisters would be able to stay in school and maybe make something of their lives. For her though, her new life lay with the stars and the subsequent years were spent hopping from ship to ship, working on everything from legitimate freighters to smuggling vessels and even one stint with a group of bounty hunters. Over the years she learned to speak Huttese passably and, although she never had to use them, eventually purchased a couple of blasters for defence, finding that the people she found herself associating with tended to take an armed smuggler more seriously.

Assessed Threat Level: I'm aiming for something quite low; if you think I've made her more than basically dangerous, I'm going to revamp the skills.

I'll tack a paragraph onto the bio with how she finds herself aboard the Razor's Edge once I know a bit more about the setting. I'm thinking maybe she knows one of the other PCs from a previous job and took up the engineering position at their suggestion.

As for the skills, I was working on the basis that 0 is useless; 5 is proficient and 10 is expert. Is that right?

Star Wars: Legacies [OOC/Open/Reboot]

Star Wars: Legacies [OOC/Open/Reboot]

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