The Vast and Empty Sky (OOC/Worldbuilding/Open)

[Shadowwell]

BEfore i put up an app for them, would anyone actually play a reptillian humanoid?

[Inoroth]

BEfore i put up an app for them, would anyone actually play a reptillian humanoid?

You?

[Shadowwell]

BEfore i put up an app for them, would anyone actually play a reptillian humanoid?

You?

Aside from me, i Got my Korvash, and am hoping that the Draug'n, yes horrible name, i know, will be more recieved for others.

[Rupudska]

Waiting on Cy to post.

[Radea]

Here's a question: Why did interest in this pick up almost immediately after I tagged it as 'semi-closed'?

I'm genuinely curious.

I had been skulking for a little while, but finally got around to surfacing.

[Rupudska]

You?

Aside from me, i Got my Korvash, and am hoping that the Draug'n, yes horrible name, i know, will be more recieved for others.

At the very least, it'll be an interesting addition to the list of species.

[Cylarn]

There you go, Rup. My apologies; I work twelve-hour night shifts.

[Rupudska]

It's all good. I just didn't want to post and make you have to edit your own midway through working on it.

[Inoroth]

Character App:

Name: Officer 2nd Class Hajeev Des-Mordaak

Age: 112 standard years

Gender: Male

Species: Vimnon

Nationality/Allegiance: The Vimnon Enclave, even though since the wreck of the VDV Discovery Frigate Intrepid, he has had no contact with them.

Physical appearance: At 263 cm, Officer Hajeeve was a typical specimen of the Vimnon race. Tall and gangly compared to the humanoid mercenaries, he certainly stood out. His resting posture was straight as a light-beam, all four feet planted next together to each other on the floor, and arms folded in pairs, front and back. His neck arched over to allow the head to rest on his shoulders, a strange visage that most who weren't familiar with Vimnon physiology (that would be about everyone) couldn't read.

---

He wore the standard United Defense Fleet pilot's uniform, black one-piece jumpsuit with red stripes down each leg, and MITE armor underneath, which gave minimal protection from impact and thermal weapons. There were a few tears here and there, the burn marks visible even on the black fabric. Various pouches and pockets bulged oddly with kit, and a 20mm pistol was slung across Hajeev's back.

Identifying Marks: Probably the single most memorable think most people take away from their first meeting with a Vimnon is the cranial plume. It changes color seemingly at random at first, but the complex plume was actually how Vimnon communicated emotions.

---

Skills:

- Piloting (Both Navigation and Combat)
- Rudimentary Maintenance of his spacecraft
- Basic Hand-to-Hand training
- Basic Marksmanship training
- Tinkering and Engineering
- Vimnon Culinary Experience -- mostly broths and juices

Personality: Officer Hajeev is, like most members of his race, fairly cautious. He witnessed the deaths of all 156 crewmen of the Vimnon Deepspace Vessel Discovery Frigate Intrepid in a tragic accident, and ever since then his sole mission has been to return home. The combination of determination and unprocessed grief are also defining qualities. He is polite and cordial, never rude if he doesn't have to be, but not immediately trusting either.

Weaknesses: Vimnon are rather susceptible to diseases because of their physiology. Because they process oxygen through nodes on their bodies. Vimnon also process alcohol much slower than most humanoids, and have a lower tolerance as a result. One stiff drink is worth two for most. They also lack endurance and strength, relying more on finesse -- pilots especially focus more on hand-eye coordination than brute strength. His hand-to-hand and firearms training is also rudimentary.

Likes/dislikes: LIKES: Polite People, The immediate effects of alcohol, Vimn IV, Small Cute Creatures, Liquid Foods, The color Blue.

DISLIKES: Rude People, the next day's effects of alcohol, Anything that keeps him from Vimn IV, Big Scary Creatures, Solid Foods, The Color Orange.

Interests: Outside of piloting, he has always had a knack for whipping up delicious Vimnon recipes. He was quite the hit in the ship's cantina.

Fears: Aside from the trauma of losing all of his shipmates, Hajeev's greatest fear is that he will never get home, either because he won't be able to raise the money to buy enough fuel for his short-range fighter, or because he'll die before he completes his journey. He's also not terribly fond of bodies of water or other liquids, because Vimnon are notoriously bad at swimming.

---

Bio: Hatched about 112 years ago, Hajeev Des-Mordaak had a fairly standard childhood. His parents were industrious, and his haven strong. When he was young, he learned the important lessons about teamwork and community that his people valued. However, his personal experiences in group and inter-haven competitions also taught him self-reliance and independence, because sometimes even the best-intentioned teammates held him back.

His instructors noticed an aptitude for physical activities, especially those requiring finesse. At age 40, they presented him with the recommendation to apply for the United Defense Fleet. Needless to say, he jumped at the chance. Few had the honor to even be recommended, and even fewer passed the examination. For 15 years he studied for the exam, and the actual exam itself took 6 months. Once in, another 25 years of training and he was a qualified Officer Pilot by age 80.

Hajeev served one tour of duty on the VDV Discovery Frigate Indomitable, largely without incident, before taking the mandatory few years leave. He returned to serve on the VDV Discovery Frigate Intrepid, where six months into the voyage, she was lost with all hands to a mysterious attacking force, Hajeev the only survivor. Now his only mission is to return home and complete his service, to reintegrate into the society he has spent most of his life serving.

Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: Latest stop on the road home, just scrapped his dilapidated fightercraft, looking for work.

RP Sample:

5 years ago, Medical Bay C, Echelon 10 of Intrepid, Discovery Class Frigate
Borders of The Scientific Union of Zeon

"You are the model of a healthy Vimnon, Officer Hajeev, now get out of my Med Bay."

The aging doctor barely looked up from his instruments as he spoke -- he wasn't normally this gruff, but regular checkups for all 157 crewmen required a routine he had long ago settled into, one he wished to get through as quickly as possible. Officer 2nd Class Hajeev Des-Mordaak obliged, his four feet clicking softly against the sterile floor as he promptly scuttled out.

A line of about twelve Vimnon, science officer and crew alike, awaited their turn at a checkup as he passed through the sanitary airlock doors. Yeetle knew them all by their faces, of course, but the ship had only been out about a six months now, not nearly enough time to really get to know everybody. Then he spotted one of his Gunnery Sergeants, Ditool, at the back of the line. He was likewise spotted at about the same time, and both bowed their necks deeply before grasping one another's two front hands and two front feet -- a customary greeting between friends. Being the officer, Hajeev spoke first.

"Mr. Ditool, good to see you! I thought you were off duty until the next shift -- are you also here for your checkup?"

Then Officer Hajeev noticed that his comrade's plume was a bit pale, a sign that he might not be well. Hajeev's own plume began to flush a bit purple as he realized he might have embarrassed one of his men, but Mr. Ditool seemed to have no concerns about discussing his condition. 'Ever the boisterous one, not easily embarrassed' thought Hajeev.

"Not exactly, sir -- I am on Standby, but I'm afraid I've taken a touch of something. I can tell you what it is too, sir; it's food poisoning! That damn cook! Clumpy, some of us call him now; don't even stir his slop enough to get the big lumps out, and wouldn't you know it but he dredged the bottom of the pot on my serving to boot. Nothing serious, sir, no cause for alarm; a vial or two of digestive enzymes and I'll be back to tip-top shape -- which is more than I can say for Clumpy if he don't get his act straight... sir."

The 'sir' came off almost as an afterthought, as the two Vimnon were both on their second voyage on a science ship, and had served together for over twenty years on their first -- perhaps a long time to many species, but for a Vimnon who could reasonably expect to live past 350 years, twenty years was not a terribly long commitment. At any rate, before Officer Hajeev could tease his shipmate on his lapse in protocol, a jarring alarm blared over the intercom. It was Captain Renoold, a seasoned officer with over 85 years of experience to his credit. His voice, like the man himself, was quick, efficient, and decisive as it spoke.

"Attention. We will exit Warp in ten minutes. Sinks are at the recommended 50% capacity. We must radiate. All personnel on Duty and on Standby report to stations immediately. Prepare for standard sublight maneuvers. That is all."

"Damn." Muttered Ditool, wincing slightly as he clutched his side. The others in line were already clicking down the corridor to wherever their duty stations were. Officer Hajeev ordered Mr. Ditool to report first to the doctor before taking his post, and then turned and himself made for the starboard batteries, the secondary station for fighter pilot squadron leaders on Standby.

2nd Quadrant Battery Control, Echelon 15 of Vimnon Discovery Frigate Intrepid
Border of Scientific Union of Zeon Space

He arrived to find most of his men already seated at the gun controls, saluting as he entered the reinforced room. He put the men at ease as he swiped one of his arms over his own computer station. Immediately its screen lit up, and he received up to the second reports from all his guns, all were lit up in green except his. He sat in his control chair and placed the ear communicator/microphone in one ear, before he pressed a button and his own icon switched from red to green. A few more key strokes, and the image shifted to a video link with the other on-duty bridge officers -- all of them, for it seemed he was the last to log in.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Officer Hajeev"

Commented Captain Renoold, before immediately dropping it and looking at something on his own computer.

"This should be a standard heat dump, no more than an hour. I don't like taking chances, especially this far outside our own space. Navigation has taken us fairly close to an unknown system -- a risk, but a calculated one. This is the fastest way to get to the anomaly we detected two days ago, and this region of space is almost all uncharted anyways. Put a sensor pod out as soon as we leave Warp, and I want you all to be doubly alert until we are again in Warp. To your duties."

A chorus of "Aye sirs" flooded the channel, and then the video-link minimized into the upper right corner. Officer Hajeev wasn't really all that embarrassed; he had done what he thought was his duty regarding Ditool, and besides, he had been all the way down in Echelon 10 Med Bay when the order was given. Still, the captain was a man who expected results, not excuses, and so Hajeev planned to explain himself at a later time, or maybe not at all, depending on if the captain brought it up later.

Suddenly, the ship lurched slightly, and Hajeev knew that meant they were out of Warp. He pulled up the sensor menu on, not to do anything himself, but to act as a second quad of eyes as the Officer responsible for that system did her sweep; if there was anything suspicious, he had to know about it as soon as possible. The ships own sensors were set to passive, which meant that they were less conspicuous -- though the heat venting would certainly negate any attempts to stay inconspicuous. The sensor pod was now clear of the ship, and as it maneuvered to a new trajectory, it's data was now coming in too. Vimnon sensor pods usually used active sensors to make the data they collected more precise, but this also made them more of a target. It was a standard Vimnon tactic to use these sacrificial pods, as they allowed two or more points of detection to increase the accuracy of scans, and if the more aggressive-looking pod were attacked or destroyed by hostiles, it was not nearly as great a loss compared to saving the ship that launched it.

Hajeev peered at the data now steaming in from, looking for any sign that there was anything unusual in the unknown system before them. He felt an anxiously alarming sensation bubbling up inside as he looked -- he counted dozens of craft in the system, several somewhat close to their position -- they could be spotted! Before he could say anything, he heard the more-intense-than-usual but still controlled voice of Captain Renoold on the comms;

"Direct radiators to 180 Degrees from unknown system, engage external refrigeration, standby for Crash Warp!"

Not a second afterwards, Officer Hajeev felt his equilibrium destabilize for a few moments as the radiators were angled to vent heat away from whatever sensors might be available to the inhabitants of this system, essentially allowing the ship to continue to remove heat with little fear of being detected. That, coupled with the hum of the outside refrigeration panels, would render them VERY difficult to detect indeed -- not that it mattered, as they would soon be far, far away from this system soon.

A countdown now filled the screen, 20 seconds to Warp...15...10...5...0.......

Nothing.

Officer Hajeev pulled up the video link with the other officers, each showing various degrees of surprise, alarm, and dread. Engine Officer Pileea Dash'weerbu seemed especially upset as she made her report;

"Captain Renoold, sir, the Warp drivers aren't aligning, preventing the proper generation of folded space... There seems to be some kind of fault in the compression manifolds on the field generators of Echelon 13, 2nd Quadrant -- I can have the details pinned down in a moment, but diagnostics gives a best-case scenario of a software glitch, where we are looking at about 90 minutes to reboot and check the entire system, and a worst-case scenario of an external part replacement and then the reboot, about four hours. I think I can..."

"Thank you, Officer Pileea, keep me abreast of the progress of your repairs." Interrupted the Captain, before addressing the entire cadre, in a more casual and familiar tone, one that none of them had ever heard the man use. Likely, this was his way of trying to calm nerves and ease tension, though it had quite the opposite effect;

"As for the rest of you, I would suggest getting nice and cozy until this is resolved, it's gonna be a bit of a wait it seems -- everybody do a systems check to ensure your departments are running smoothly, and monitor these unknowns to see if we can't figure out who they are... and Officer Hajeev, you're also in Quadrant 2, so have your second relive your station and lend Officer Pileea a hand. To your duties."

This time the "Aye Sirs" were a bit less enthusiastic, especially Hajeev's. Not only was his second, Gunnery Sgt. Ditool, still in medical and thus unable to take command of the guns, but now he was paired up with Officer Pileea, who had one of the haughtiest personalities and hottest bodies Hajeev had ever encountered. She was bound to be down a few pegs in pride, as it was her system that crapped out on them, but she would make up for it by being even more impossible to please and unforgiving of mistakes, mistakes he was likely to make just by being in her presence. Cursing his fortune, he called another Sergeant, whom he knew was barely qualified by experience or rank, and turned over command of the batteries, before adjusting his uniform and heading to the Warp Field Generators. He just hoped he wouldn't make too big a fool of himself.

15 Minutes Later, Echelon 13, 2nd Quadrant of Vimnon Discovery Frigate Intrepid
Border of Scientific Union of Zeon Space

Well, at least they now knew what the problem was. When the radiators had been rotated, someone had gunned the controls too hard too fast, the thermal-conduction lines that fed out to them had been jostled out of place here, and had melted away their coverings. The heat spilled out into the rest of the piping where it was automatically detected, and coolant had automatically been applied. Unfortunately, the auto-shut-off-valve had failed to engage, and the coolant, now lukewarm, had flowed until it had risen about six centimeters above the floor in a miniature lake in the generator room, expending a large amount of the ships coolant supply and shorting out the entire field generator apparatus.

"Looks like it's going to be the four-hour repair after all."

Hajeev's poor attempt at humor fell flat, and he knew it... even before Pileea's death stare bored into his soul and made him wish for non-existence. They worked in hurried silence now, trying to get out of this system as soon as possible.

2 hours later, Active Probe 11 of Vimnon Discovery Frigate Intrepid,
Border of Scientific Union of Zeon Space

The probe, as soon as it detected the nearest vessel, it followed standard protocol and began broadcasting a standard greeting in all known languages and several common patterns, moving at 30 Degrees to its flight path -- neither an intercept course nor a turn and run, but an offer to get closer if the other craft desired, or leaving enough room to avoid contact if that was what it preferred. Instead, the vessel disappeared suddenly, likely initiating some kind of masking or cloaking protocol. The ability to cloak was alarming, as that meant there could be others closer who wished to remain undetected, perhaps to attack.

When the Intrepid failed to Warp away, the rather rudimentary virtual intelligence operating the probe knew what it had to do; it had to continue loudly traveling away from its ship, leading any would-be assailants as far away from the object it was hard-coded to protect as possible. It was just possible that these ships might prove friendly, but they certainly had an odd way of showing it if they were.

Hours passed, the probe collecting all manner of data streams. By monitoring communications in the system, considering the ability to cloak, and dozens of other factors, the probe's computer had managed to narrow down who they were dealing with to a handful of known races (unless, of course, they had discovered an entirely new race or civilization -- oh the excitement of that unlikely prospect!), when all of a sudden the probe began detecting trace heat outlining, evidence that something was quite close as the heat generated by its thrusts was now detectable beyond the range of the cloaking field. Two minutes later, the some kind of Patrol Mech decloaked directly in front of and on a parallel course with the Vimnon probe.

Desperately the probe sent messages in all languages, warning of the impending collision, trying to use its vector thrusters to steer clear, but it was too late. The last image the probe transmitted before the auto-destruct engaged was a single, ominous eye. The blast was enough to completely destroy the probe and all relevant Vimnon technologies within, but a few seconds later, the patrol mech barreled through the debris field with little to no visible damage, before recloaking. Those monitoring the probe carried on in concerned, but the unknown ships' cloaking technology seemed advanced enough to make penetrating it with sensors difficult.

30 min later, Echelon 13, 2nd Quadrant of Vimnon Discovery Frigate Intrepid
Border of Scientific Union of Zeon Space

Hajeev was about finished cleaning up the coolant on the floor now. He and Officer Pileea hadn't exchanged but a handful of words, but soon they would be able to reboot the system and get out of here. Hopping into an unexplored system was not out of the realm of normal for a Discovery Frigate, but the gamble hadn't paid off this time, and the addition of unexpected technical difficulties, they were in a real tight spot. He had a bad feeling about it all.

Suddenly, alarms began blaring. Patrol Mechs were decloaking all around the ship. Orders were flying thick and fast over the comms, as well as to the personal computer stations. All of the primed fighter pods were launched, and Hajeev was assigned to the second wave. With little more than a courteous nod, he left and made for his assigned craft. Halfway there, he began hearing the sound of weapons impact on the hull.

'Sounds like negotiations have failed. I sure hope we can get out of this."

The thumping had gotten worse by the time he climbed into the cockpit. He and the maintenance crewmen blew through the emergency checklist as fast as possible, all systems green. His fighter craft shot out of the magnetic launch tube, gaining great momentum at a short distance. Now outside, he could see the damage: it was worse than he thought. He could see the impact craters on the hull, floating debris, and several obliterated fightercraft and enemy mechs drifted in all directions.

Blocking the deaths of his friends from his mind, he focused on the mission. Ahead of him lay a squadron of three mechs, chasing what looked like Gilee Zek-Dovii's ship. He was having trouble shaking them, and plasma was venting out of one of the engines. It was just like a simulation: line 'em up and knock 'em out. These opponents made up for their lack of maneuverability with numbers though, and before Hajeev had destroyed the last of the trio, Gilee's ship was an inferno of light and heat, no escape pod. To make matters worse, now there were some on his tail too.

Nothing induces tunnel vision quite like a tight scrape to the death. Every turn a risk and reward, every bank a razor-line thing, no time to think beyond the moment, no time to assess the tactical situation as a whole. Ship's log could probably have told him how much time passed, if he had the heart to look at it, but what knocked him back to reality was the bright flash behind him, almost blinded him even through the tinted visors.

The whole frigate, gone. All of the fighters, gone. All but two of the unmanned defense drones, gone, and they weren't gonna last long. No escape pods, no survivors, a no-win situation. A thousand thoughts flooded through his head at once, from grief over the loss of his friends, to thoughts of how he was going to get home, to how he was going to survive this. Hajeev had to push those feelings down, to rely on his training instead. He was getting swarmed by mechs, and fighting them would accomplish nothing anyways. If he could get clear, his emergency warp drive could at least get him out of the system. As the foes began to close in on his position, lasers chipping away at his hull, he punched it and left them in his plasma backwash.

Officer Hajeev has been going from system to system ever since, trying to get home. His emergency warp manifold burned out after a few uses, so he's been forced to use sublights ever since. Station Thrawn B7 say the death of his fighter -- there's only so much maintenance that can be done without the proper facilities, especially on a tight budget. Without a ship, Hajeev needed another way to move closer to home. This escort job was hopefully just such an opportunity, one of the last legs in his journey. How hard could escort duty be, anyways?][/color] (DO NOT REMOVE)

I changed what I could, all except the species image.

[Shadowwell]

Species Name: Draug'n
Scientific Name: Drakon Sapien (Can be Changed)
Homeworld: Drakon Prime
Natural lifespan: They live for 3 centuries as an average, though some are veritably ancient measuring their lifespans not even in millenia or Eons, but how many generations of Hatchlings they have brought into this world.
Physical description: The shortest of the Draug'n are the females, who still stand taller than most human males, they range from 5'7" to 6'8" on average. They are very graceful and lack the raw muscular power of their male counterparts. They also are in possession of a much smaller set of wings than males. Though gentler as a whole, female Draug'n are fiercely protective of what they consider theirs and their children. Male Draug'n are much larger, ranging from 6'6" to over 7 Feet in height on average. They possess dense and expansive musculature, and are rather strong, though they are inherently aggressive, not many are warriors, though most possess some skill.

The Draug'n are cold-blooded, due to their reptilian nature and do lay a clutch of eggs, which are more common than one might thing, despite their longevity. The Draug'n possess a seperate organ that lets them spew out a bile like substance that ignites when in contact with oxygen, this is a rarely used reflex, though the militarily trained Daug'n use thsi in conjunction with their gliding for terrifying effects. Though Draug'n are possessing of wings, they are prone to gliding rather than true flight. However, not all Draug'n are born with wings, these Draug'n are known as the Apteri, or Wingless Ones. They are discriminated against, but possess traits that make them more dangerous than normal Draug'n. They have sharper claws than most Draug'n and their scales can change color and texture to a terrifying degree, though not true camoflauge.

The Draug'n as a whole have a fascination with shiny and valuable objects. Over the millenia they have hoarded much knowledge on the subject and towards that end, many Draug'n are merchants, rather successful and aggressive ones.
Culture and History: (Optional but recommended)
CONSIDERED A DELICACY (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Rupudska]

Character App:

(Image)

Name: Officer 2nd Class Hajeev Des-Mordaak

Age: 112 standard years

Gender: Male

Species: Vimnon

Nationality/Allegiance: The Vimnon Enclave, even though since the wreck of the VDV Discovery Frigate Intrepid, he has had no contact with them.

Physical appearance: At 263 cm, Officer Hajeeve was a typical specimen of the Vimnon race. Tall and gangly compared to the humanoid mercenaries, he certainly stood out. His resting posture was straight as a light-beam, all four feet planted next together to each other on the floor, and arms folded in pairs, front and back. His neck arched over to allow the head to rest on his shoulders, a strange visage that most who weren't familiar with Vimnon physiology (that would be about everyone) couldn't read.

---

He wore the standard United Defense Fleet pilot's uniform, black one-piece jumpsuit with red stripes down each leg, and MITE armor underneath, which gave minimal protection from impact and thermal weapons. There were a few tears here and there, the burn marks visible even on the black fabric. Various pouches and pockets bulged oddly with kit, and a 20mm pistol was slung across Hajeev's back.

Identifying Marks: Probably the single most memorable think most people take away from their first meeting with a Vimnon is the cranial plume. It changes color seemingly at random at first, but the complex plume was actually how Vimnon communicated emotions.

---

Skills:

- Piloting (Both Navigation and Combat)
- Rudimentary Maintenance of his spacecraft
- Basic Hand-to-Hand training
- Basic Marksmanship training
- Tinkering and Engineering
- Vimnon Culinary Experience -- mostly broths and juices

Personality: Officer Hajeev is, like most members of his race, fairly cautious. He witnessed the deaths of all 156 crewmen of the Vimnon Deepspace Vessel Discovery Frigate Intrepid in a tragic accident, and ever since then his sole mission has been to return home. The combination of determination and unprocessed grief are also defining qualities. He is polite and cordial, never rude if he doesn't have to be, but not immediately trusting either.

Weaknesses: Vimnon are rather susceptible to diseases because of their physiology. Because they process oxygen through nodes on their bodies. Vimnon also process alcohol much slower than most humanoids, and have a lower tolerance as a result. One stiff drink is worth two for most. They also lack endurance and strength, relying more on finesse -- pilots especially focus more on hand-eye coordination than brute strength. His hand-to-hand and firearms training is also rudimentary.

Likes/dislikes: LIKES: Polite People, The immediate effects of alcohol, Vimn IV, Small Cute Creatures, Liquid Foods, The color Blue.

DISLIKES: Rude People, the next day's effects of alcohol, Anything that keeps him from Vimn IV, Big Scary Creatures, Solid Foods, The Color Orange.

Interests: Outside of piloting, he has always had a knack for whipping up delicious Vimnon recipes. He was quite the hit in the ship's cantina.

Fears: Aside from the trauma of losing all of his shipmates, Hajeev's greatest fear is that he will never get home, either because he won't be able to raise the money to buy enough fuel for his short-range fighter, or because he'll die before he completes his journey. He's also not terribly fond of bodies of water or other liquids, because Vimnon are notoriously bad at swimming.

---

Bio: Hatched about 112 years ago, Hajeev Des-Mordaak had a fairly standard childhood. His parents were industrious, and his haven strong. When he was young, he learned the important lessons about teamwork and community that his people valued. However, his personal experiences in group and inter-haven competitions also taught him self-reliance and independence, because sometimes even the best-intentioned teammates held him back.

His instructors noticed an aptitude for physical activities, especially those requiring finesse. At age 40, they presented him with the recommendation to apply for the United Defense Fleet. Needless to say, he jumped at the chance. Few had the honor to even be recommended, and even fewer passed the examination. For 15 years he studied for the exam, and the actual exam itself took 6 months. Once in, another 25 years of training and he was a qualified Officer Pilot by age 80.

Hajeev served one tour of duty on the VDV Discovery Frigate Indomitable, largely without incident, before taking the mandatory few years leave. He returned to serve on the VDV Discovery Frigate Intrepid, where six months into the voyage, she was lost with all hands to a mysterious attacking force, Hajeev the only survivor. Now his only mission is to return home and complete his service, to reintegrate into the society he has spent most of his life serving.

Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: Latest stop on the road home, just scrapped his dilapidated fightercraft, looking for work.

RP Sample:

5 years ago, Medical Bay C, Echelon 10 of Intrepid, Discovery Class Frigate
Borders of The Scientific Union of Zeon

"You are the model of a healthy Vimnon, Officer Hajeev, now get out of my Med Bay."

The aging doctor barely looked up from his instruments as he spoke -- he wasn't normally this gruff, but regular checkups for all 157 crewmen required a routine he had long ago settled into, one he wished to get through as quickly as possible. Officer 2nd Class Hajeev Des-Mordaak obliged, his four feet clicking softly against the sterile floor as he promptly scuttled out.

A line of about twelve Vimnon, science officer and crew alike, awaited their turn at a checkup as he passed through the sanitary airlock doors. Yeetle knew them all by their faces, of course, but the ship had only been out about a six months now, not nearly enough time to really get to know everybody. Then he spotted one of his Gunnery Sergeants, Ditool, at the back of the line. He was likewise spotted at about the same time, and both bowed their necks deeply before grasping one another's two front hands and two front feet -- a customary greeting between friends. Being the officer, Hajeev spoke first.

"Mr. Ditool, good to see you! I thought you were off duty until the next shift -- are you also here for your checkup?"

Then Officer Hajeev noticed that his comrade's plume was a bit pale, a sign that he might not be well. Hajeev's own plume began to flush a bit purple as he realized he might have embarrassed one of his men, but Mr. Ditool seemed to have no concerns about discussing his condition. 'Ever the boisterous one, not easily embarrassed' thought Hajeev.

"Not exactly, sir -- I am on Standby, but I'm afraid I've taken a touch of something. I can tell you what it is too, sir; it's food poisoning! That damn cook! Clumpy, some of us call him now; don't even stir his slop enough to get the big lumps out, and wouldn't you know it but he dredged the bottom of the pot on my serving to boot. Nothing serious, sir, no cause for alarm; a vial or two of digestive enzymes and I'll be back to tip-top shape -- which is more than I can say for Clumpy if he don't get his act straight... sir."

The 'sir' came off almost as an afterthought, as the two Vimnon were both on their second voyage on a science ship, and had served together for over twenty years on their first -- perhaps a long time to many species, but for a Vimnon who could reasonably expect to live past 350 years, twenty years was not a terribly long commitment. At any rate, before Officer Hajeev could tease his shipmate on his lapse in protocol, a jarring alarm blared over the intercom. It was Captain Renoold, a seasoned officer with over 85 years of experience to his credit. His voice, like the man himself, was quick, efficient, and decisive as it spoke.

"Attention. We will exit Warp in ten minutes. Sinks are at the recommended 50% capacity. We must radiate. All personnel on Duty and on Standby report to stations immediately. Prepare for standard sublight maneuvers. That is all."

"Damn." Muttered Ditool, wincing slightly as he clutched his side. The others in line were already clicking down the corridor to wherever their duty stations were. Officer Hajeev ordered Mr. Ditool to report first to the doctor before taking his post, and then turned and himself made for the starboard batteries, the secondary station for fighter pilot squadron leaders on Standby.

2nd Quadrant Battery Control, Echelon 15 of Vimnon Discovery Frigate Intrepid
Border of Scientific Union of Zeon Space

He arrived to find most of his men already seated at the gun controls, saluting as he entered the reinforced room. He put the men at ease as he swiped one of his arms over his own computer station. Immediately its screen lit up, and he received up to the second reports from all his guns, all were lit up in green except his. He sat in his control chair and placed the ear communicator/microphone in one ear, before he pressed a button and his own icon switched from red to green. A few more key strokes, and the image shifted to a video link with the other on-duty bridge officers -- all of them, for it seemed he was the last to log in.

"Nice of you to finally join us, Officer Hajeev"

Commented Captain Renoold, before immediately dropping it and looking at something on his own computer.

"This should be a standard heat dump, no more than an hour. I don't like taking chances, especially this far outside our own space. Navigation has taken us fairly close to an unknown system -- a risk, but a calculated one. This is the fastest way to get to the anomaly we detected two days ago, and this region of space is almost all uncharted anyways. Put a sensor pod out as soon as we leave Warp, and I want you all to be doubly alert until we are again in Warp. To your duties."

A chorus of "Aye sirs" flooded the channel, and then the video-link minimized into the upper right corner. Officer Hajeev wasn't really all that embarrassed; he had done what he thought was his duty regarding Ditool, and besides, he had been all the way down in Echelon 10 Med Bay when the order was given. Still, the captain was a man who expected results, not excuses, and so Hajeev planned to explain himself at a later time, or maybe not at all, depending on if the captain brought it up later.

Suddenly, the ship lurched slightly, and Hajeev knew that meant they were out of Warp. He pulled up the sensor menu on, not to do anything himself, but to act as a second quad of eyes as the Officer responsible for that system did her sweep; if there was anything suspicious, he had to know about it as soon as possible. The ships own sensors were set to passive, which meant that they were less conspicuous -- though the heat venting would certainly negate any attempts to stay inconspicuous. The sensor pod was now clear of the ship, and as it maneuvered to a new trajectory, it's data was now coming in too. Vimnon sensor pods usually used active sensors to make the data they collected more precise, but this also made them more of a target. It was a standard Vimnon tactic to use these sacrificial pods, as they allowed two or more points of detection to increase the accuracy of scans, and if the more aggressive-looking pod were attacked or destroyed by hostiles, it was not nearly as great a loss compared to saving the ship that launched it.

Hajeev peered at the data now steaming in from, looking for any sign that there was anything unusual in the unknown system before them. He felt an anxiously alarming sensation bubbling up inside as he looked -- he counted dozens of craft in the system, several somewhat close to their position -- they could be spotted! Before he could say anything, he heard the more-intense-than-usual but still controlled voice of Captain Renoold on the comms;

"Direct radiators to 180 Degrees from unknown system, engage external refrigeration, standby for Crash Warp!"

Not a second afterwards, Officer Hajeev felt his equilibrium destabilize for a few moments as the radiators were angled to vent heat away from whatever sensors might be available to the inhabitants of this system, essentially allowing the ship to continue to remove heat with little fear of being detected. That, coupled with the hum of the outside refrigeration panels, would render them VERY difficult to detect indeed -- not that it mattered, as they would soon be far, far away from this system soon.

A countdown now filled the screen, 20 seconds to Warp...15...10...5...0.......

Nothing.

Officer Hajeev pulled up the video link with the other officers, each showing various degrees of surprise, alarm, and dread. Engine Officer Pileea Dash'weerbu seemed especially upset as she made her report;

"Captain Renoold, sir, the Warp drivers aren't aligning, preventing the proper generation of folded space... There seems to be some kind of fault in the compression manifolds on the field generators of Echelon 13, 2nd Quadrant -- I can have the details pinned down in a moment, but diagnostics gives a best-case scenario of a software glitch, where we are looking at about 90 minutes to reboot and check the entire system, and a worst-case scenario of an external part replacement and then the reboot, about four hours. I think I can..."

"Thank you, Officer Pileea, keep me abreast of the progress of your repairs." Interrupted the Captain, before addressing the entire cadre, in a more casual and familiar tone, one that none of them had ever heard the man use. Likely, this was his way of trying to calm nerves and ease tension, though it had quite the opposite effect;

"As for the rest of you, I would suggest getting nice and cozy until this is resolved, it's gonna be a bit of a wait it seems -- everybody do a systems check to ensure your departments are running smoothly, and monitor these unknowns to see if we can't figure out who they are... and Officer Hajeev, you're also in Quadrant 2, so have your second relive your station and lend Officer Pileea a hand. To your duties."

This time the "Aye Sirs" were a bit less enthusiastic, especially Hajeev's. Not only was his second, Gunnery Sgt. Ditool, still in medical and thus unable to take command of the guns, but now he was paired up with Officer Pileea, who had one of the haughtiest personalities and hottest bodies Hajeev had ever encountered. She was bound to be down a few pegs in pride, as it was her system that crapped out on them, but she would make up for it by being even more impossible to please and unforgiving of mistakes, mistakes he was likely to make just by being in her presence. Cursing his fortune, he called another Sergeant, whom he knew was barely qualified by experience or rank, and turned over command of the batteries, before adjusting his uniform and heading to the Warp Field Generators. He just hoped he wouldn't make too big a fool of himself.

15 Minutes Later, Echelon 13, 2nd Quadrant of Vimnon Discovery Frigate Intrepid
Border of Scientific Union of Zeon Space

Well, at least they now knew what the problem was. When the radiators had been rotated, someone had gunned the controls too hard too fast, the thermal-conduction lines that fed out to them had been jostled out of place here, and had melted away their coverings. The heat spilled out into the rest of the piping where it was automatically detected, and coolant had automatically been applied. Unfortunately, the auto-shut-off-valve had failed to engage, and the coolant, now lukewarm, had flowed until it had risen about six centimeters above the floor in a miniature lake in the generator room, expending a large amount of the ships coolant supply and shorting out the entire field generator apparatus.

"Looks like it's going to be the four-hour repair after all."

Hajeev's poor attempt at humor fell flat, and he knew it... even before Pileea's death stare bored into his soul and made him wish for non-existence. They worked in hurried silence now, trying to get out of this system as soon as possible.

2 hours later, Active Probe 11 of Vimnon Discovery Frigate Intrepid,
Border of Scientific Union of Zeon Space

The probe, as soon as it detected the nearest vessel, it followed standard protocol and began broadcasting a standard greeting in all known languages and several common patterns, moving at 30 Degrees to its flight path -- neither an intercept course nor a turn and run, but an offer to get closer if the other craft desired, or leaving enough room to avoid contact if that was what it preferred. Instead, the vessel disappeared suddenly, likely initiating some kind of masking or cloaking protocol. The ability to cloak was alarming, as that meant there could be others closer who wished to remain undetected, perhaps to attack.

When the Intrepid failed to Warp away, the rather rudimentary virtual intelligence operating the probe knew what it had to do; it had to continue loudly traveling away from its ship, leading any would-be assailants as far away from the object it was hard-coded to protect as possible. It was just possible that these ships might prove friendly, but they certainly had an odd way of showing it if they were.

Hours passed, the probe collecting all manner of data streams. By monitoring communications in the system, considering the ability to cloak, and dozens of other factors, the probe's computer had managed to narrow down who they were dealing with to a handful of known races (unless, of course, they had discovered an entirely new race or civilization -- oh the excitement of that unlikely prospect!), when all of a sudden the probe began detecting trace heat outlining, evidence that something was quite close as the heat generated by its thrusts was now detectable beyond the range of the cloaking field. Two minutes later, the some kind of Patrol Mech decloaked directly in front of and on a parallel course with the Vimnon probe.

Desperately the probe sent messages in all languages, warning of the impending collision, trying to use its vector thrusters to steer clear, but it was too late. The last image the probe transmitted before the auto-destruct engaged was a single, ominous eye. The blast was enough to completely destroy the probe and all relevant Vimnon technologies within, but a few seconds later, the patrol mech barreled through the debris field with little to no visible damage, before recloaking. Those monitoring the probe carried on in concerned, but the unknown ships' cloaking technology seemed advanced enough to make penetrating it with sensors difficult.

30 min later, Echelon 13, 2nd Quadrant of Vimnon Discovery Frigate Intrepid
Border of Scientific Union of Zeon Space

Hajeev was about finished cleaning up the coolant on the floor now. He and Officer Pileea hadn't exchanged but a handful of words, but soon they would be able to reboot the system and get out of here. Hopping into an unexplored system was not out of the realm of normal for a Discovery Frigate, but the gamble hadn't paid off this time, and the addition of unexpected technical difficulties, they were in a real tight spot. He had a bad feeling about it all.

Suddenly, alarms began blaring. Patrol Mechs were decloaking all around the ship. Orders were flying thick and fast over the comms, as well as to the personal computer stations. All of the primed fighter pods were launched, and Hajeev was assigned to the second wave. With little more than a courteous nod, he left and made for his assigned craft. Halfway there, he began hearing the sound of weapons impact on the hull.

'Sounds like negotiations have failed. I sure hope we can get out of this."

The thumping had gotten worse by the time he climbed into the cockpit. He and the maintenance crewmen blew through the emergency checklist as fast as possible, all systems green. His fighter craft shot out of the magnetic launch tube, gaining great momentum at a short distance. Now outside, he could see the damage: it was worse than he thought. He could see the impact craters on the hull, floating debris, and several obliterated fightercraft and enemy mechs drifted in all directions.

Blocking the deaths of his friends from his mind, he focused on the mission. Ahead of him lay a squadron of three mechs, chasing what looked like Gilee Zek-Dovii's ship. He was having trouble shaking them, and plasma was venting out of one of the engines. It was just like a simulation: line 'em up and knock 'em out. These opponents made up for their lack of maneuverability with numbers though, and before Hajeev had destroyed the last of the trio, Gilee's ship was an inferno of light and heat, no escape pod. To make matters worse, now there were some on his tail too.

Nothing induces tunnel vision quite like a tight scrape to the death. Every turn a risk and reward, every bank a razor-line thing, no time to think beyond the moment, no time to assess the tactical situation as a whole. Ship's log could probably have told him how much time passed, if he had the heart to look at it, but what knocked him back to reality was the bright flash behind him, almost blinded him even through the tinted visors.

The whole frigate, gone. All of the fighters, gone. All but two of the unmanned defense drones, gone, and they weren't gonna last long. No escape pods, no survivors, a no-win situation. A thousand thoughts flooded through his head at once, from grief over the loss of his friends, to thoughts of how he was going to get home, to how he was going to survive this. Hajeev had to push those feelings down, to rely on his training instead. He was getting swarmed by mechs, and fighting them would accomplish nothing anyways. If he could get clear, his emergency warp drive could at least get him out of the system. As the foes began to close in on his position, lasers chipping away at his hull, he punched it and left them in his plasma backwash.

Officer Hajeev has been going from system to system ever since, trying to get home. His emergency warp manifold burned out after a few uses, so he's been forced to use sublights ever since. Station Thrawn B7 say the death of his fighter -- there's only so much maintenance that can be done without the proper facilities, especially on a tight budget. Without a ship, Hajeev needed another way to move closer to home. This escort job was hopefully just such an opportunity, one of the last legs in his journey. How hard could escort duty be, anyways?][/color] (DO NOT REMOVE)

I changed what I could, all except the species image.

As much as I like the quality of what posts I can find of yours, I kinda doubt you changed 'all except the species image' for this app. DENIED DO NOT RESUBMIT, if you wish to join this RP you will have to create an entirely new character from scratch.

[Inoroth]

As much as I like the quality of what posts I can find of yours, I kinda doubt you changed 'all except the species image' for this app. DENIED DO NOT RESUBMIT, if you wish to join this RP you will have to create an entirely new character from scratch.

Alrighty, y'all have a good rest of your RP then.

[Korhal IVV]

Coz we don't have a tidally locked planet yet:

(Image go here, optional but highly recommended, does not have to be the planet's globe)

Planet Name: Maugan
Atmosphere: Mostly nitrogen and oxygen, along with carbon dioxide, neon, and others.
Size and Mass: About the same size and mass as Mars.
Axial Tilt, Orbital Distance, and Number 24 degrees, 90 million km, 2nd planet.
Geography and Climate: A tidally locked planet with a red dwarf for a parent star, Maugan is a land with both extremes, with conditions that are "just right" at a narrow strip between the day and night zones. On one side, the planet is insufferably hot, and anyone that steps into that zone melts INSTANTLY. On the other is a cold wasteland, so cold that unfortunate fellows freeze the moment they step in to it.
Culture and History: This orange and black ball is a colony of the Kysaduran Protectorate located within the Great Void. Beset by various dangers, the Kysaduran Star Fleet has employed three entire battlegroups to defend it. In the frozen night zone, subterranean complexes sprawl deep underground, and in the middle zone, great cities with massive spires and towers rise from the fertile ground. There is no settlement in the day zone.
BIG OL' BALL (DO NO REMOVE)

Dis

[Backatri]

Coz we don't have a tidally locked planet yet:

(Image go here, optional but highly recommended, does not have to be the planet's globe)

Planet Name: Maugan
Atmosphere: Mostly nitrogen and oxygen, along with carbon dioxide, neon, and others.
Size and Mass: About the same size and mass as Mars.
Axial Tilt, Orbital Distance, and Number 24 degrees, 90 million km, 2nd planet.
Geography and Climate: A tidally locked planet with a red dwarf for a parent star, Maugan is a land with both extremes, with conditions that are "just right" at a narrow strip between the day and night zones. On one side, the planet is insufferably hot, and anyone that steps into that zone melts INSTANTLY. On the other is a cold wasteland, so cold that unfortunate fellows freeze the moment they step in to it.
Culture and History: This orange and black ball is a colony of the Kysaduran Protectorate located within the Great Void. Beset by various dangers, the Kysaduran Star Fleet has employed three entire battlegroups to defend it. In the frozen night zone, subterranean complexes sprawl deep underground, and in the middle zone, great cities with massive spires and towers rise from the fertile ground. There is no settlement in the day zone.
BIG OL' BALL (DO NO REMOVE)

Dis

I've also got some planets a few pages back. I think rup is dealing with the massive influx of applications and moving the IC thread along.

[Rupudska]

I've also got some planets a few pages back. I think rup is dealing with the massive influx of applications and moving the IC thread along.

I'll get right on fixing that. Trying to juggle running an RP, online math tests, and writing fanfiction is not good for my health.

But it is good for any semblance of writer's block I may have had.

[Reverend Norv]

Hmm. I suppose there's room aboard the ship. I'm more bemused how Norv's character wouldn't have noticed the cyborg giant trying to track a similar target as Flavian.

Oh, and Lance? Flavian actually changed attire shortly after leaving the Deckling in to something more serviceable. A lightly armored leather flightsuit is what the man with crimson hair wears right now.

Until this is addressed, I'm not inclined to respond.

[Rupudska]

Hmm. I suppose there's room aboard the ship. I'm more bemused how Norv's character wouldn't have noticed the cyborg giant trying to track a similar target as Flavian.

Oh, and Lance? Flavian actually changed attire shortly after leaving the Deckling in to something more serviceable. A lightly armored leather flightsuit is what the man with crimson hair wears right now.

Until this is addressed, I'm not inclined to respond.

Yeaaaah, to be honest Lancearc that does seem a bit odd, so it should probably be edited. Maybe do what Zetone did and have him be on the ship from the beginning.

[Rupudska]

Fixed the accepted list. This little break-and-explore-the-ship time won't last long. I've decided on a good old standby for our first mission. Pirates.

Also, the Isaac has four holosuites, all at 1000 square meters, and they're all located two decks below the hangar.

[Lancearc]

Until this is addressed, I'm not inclined to respond.

Yeaaaah, to be honest Lancearc that does seem a bit odd, so it should probably be edited. Maybe do what Zetone did and have him be on the ship from the beginning.

Fair enough, retcon and carry on.

[Shadowwell]

I added some stuff for the Draug'n, but am still working on them.

EDIT: Rup, you mind if i take the app and use it for a Dispatch displaying my Rp races?

[Rupudska]

Seeing as people aren't terribly interested by the exploration idea I'll move us on to the pirate attack tomorrow or Sunday.

[G-Tech Corporation]

Seeing as people aren't terribly interested by the exploration idea I'll move us on to the pirate attack tomorrow or Sunday.

I am interest, but also am of wait for post.

[Esternial]

For RL reasons I'm not willing to devulge, considering the personal nature, I'm putting my involvement in NS and this RP on hold.

[Rupudska]

For RL reasons I'm not willing to devulge, considering the personal nature, I'm putting my involvement in NS and this RP on hold.

It's all good.

The rest of you I'd like some posts tho. But I'm willing to just move us on for the next segment of the RP, our first attack.

[Rupudska]

Post is up. Go nuts, but don't destroy the frigate just yet, it has some tricks up its sleeve.

The cutters are only thirty meters long, with two laser cannons on the bow and one railgun turret on top behind the bridge, it also carries a few high explosive torpedoes. The frigate is fifty meters long with three laser turrets port and starboard for a total of six, plus a torpedo launcher on the bottom and two railgun turrets on top.