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

[Ormata]

I am going to throw up a gunship, for anyone who isn't looking to zip around in a fighter.

I suppose we're getting two gunships then.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Name: Athelli Beni Varosh Komash Utherri Polloterter, 'Ben'
Age: 58
Gender: Unisex
Species: Bavrosi
Nationality/Allegiance: The Bavrosi Commune
Identifying Marks: He usually chews on an unsmoked cigar, and likes to dress up when not at work. He has a delicate nose for wine, and will try to drink the stuff whenever possible.

---

Skills: Ben is a genius mechanic. He is knowledgeable about most ship types and engine systems, and when he's not he makes it up as he goes along. He also has a grubby hand or two in the mechanical black market, being able to outfit an illegal part or two on most vessels. He is also very good at recognising wines.
Personality: Ben is a savvy businessman, and most of what he does revolves around turning a profit, and living the Good Life. Drinking wine, making headway with the upper classes... In name, he does it all for the good of the Commune, but some rightly guess that he does it all for himself and his own gain. He likes to see himself as an intellectual.
Weaknesses: Ben is physically very weak, and his debauchery knows little bounds. His heart isn't as strong as it used to be, which is not helped by his liberal consumption of alcohol and his love for food. While mentally capable, his body is sorely lacking on most fronts.
Likes/dislikes: Likes wine, food, money, doing mechanical work, high class company, selling a good piece of illegal hardware, his own people and culture.
Dislikes police forces, lower class people, white knights, the Cipaqoaltus with a passion.
Interests: Wine, did I mention that? Illegal weaponry, black market hardware, engines and ship classes.
Fears: the Cipaqoaltus, prison, authorities, bankruptcy

---

Bio: Like many of his kind, and like all of his Commune, Ben was born in the bowels of a large cargo vessel. His kind had long been purged from their homeworld by the Reptillian Slayers of Species, leaving them refugees all over the galaxy. Because of their size and natural affinity with all things mechanical, most of these refugees found 'employement' in the many trading and cargo ships flying around the galaxy. These groups living in these gigantic ships became political communes on their own, exchanging family members between ships when in dock. Ben was born aboard a cruise vessel, servicing the engines with his family from a very young age. He survived childhood, unlike many of his friends and siblings.

Eventually, Ben worked his way up the ranks. He was chosen as his people's representative to the Captain, which gave him a position above decks, far above the engine room. As a personal project of the captain he was taught in the ways of the higher classes, in the ways of commerce and trade. Ben had only one goal before him: getting himself off the godforsaken vessel. Eventually, he managed to gathere enough money to buy himself free, setting up a small workshop for servicing vessels in a space port. However, beside a taste for freedom and wine, he had aquired a taste for the high class life. In order to make money, he often presented his clients with some of the more illegal upgrades. This gave him recognition among the criminal cricuits, but also made him a wanted rodent. Eventually, he turned up above Thrawn, a place where law enforcement would not chase him.
Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: Having been kicked out of most other space ports, and the Thrawnian attitude on law enforcement, especially concerning the black market
CAPTAIN TO ENTERPRISE

[Ormata]

Name: Medusa

Crew:

• 4 x Required

Length, Width, Height:

• 35.3 Meters Length
• 30 Meters Wingspan
• 10 Meters Height

Weapons and Shielding:

• 2 x Gresheart-Triton GR-04-3 Mod 2 Cannons, Military-Grade
• 6 x Wing Hardpoints to allow for mounting of missile systems
• 1 x Targia Heavy Shield, Military-Grade
• 2 x Reimmann-Sirania Backup Shield
• 0.25 Meters Siriana Heavy Armor, Military-Grade

Propulsion:

• 2 x RTB XR-43-2 Mod 9 Heavy Thrusters
• 2 x RTB XR-43-9 Mod 2 VTOL Engines
• 1 x Reimmann-Sirana FTL Drive

Cargo Capacity:

• 37 Tonnes

Personnel Capacity:

• 40 Light Infantry
  Or
• 20 Heavy Infantry
  Or
• 25 Litter Patients

Special Features:

• 1 x 37mm Regro-Tridatsu Cannon, Rigid Mount
• 10 x Internal Wing Weapon Bays
• 1 x Varmiatzu TCM-03-94 Mod 23 Comm Jammer

Make & Model: Greshmann-Orion RTV-934 “Seraph” Armed Transport
Appearance:

Have much of the appearance of a JR-04 Transport, in terms of the exterior, the RTV-934 holds the nominal layout of VTOL transports. A bulky thing, with two wide ‘wings’, off of which are two engines for hover and takeoff, the internal layout of the vessel is much the same. With two engines aft, over the long cargo bay, there is then a longer hallway, followed by two crew compartments on either side, which then leads up to the cockpit. An engine compartment, for the two engines aft, can be accessed via ladder.

Vessel History:

Being built in the Amari-Udan Shipyards, near Alpha Centauri, the Medua began her life as a JR-04 Transport, a common vessel whose cheap price and good cargo capacity lent her to a dozen different potential aspects. After being purchased by the Transport Corps, along with over 90,000 other JR-04s, the vessel would be assigned to the Rima-32 Squadron, based in Zoru’Man, near the Long Bar on the Imperial border. For the first decade of her life, she saw service there as a tender, ferrying crew and ensigns from the planet’s surface and academy up to their respective vessels, a task that could be delegated to a ship’s delegation of transports yet was more often the role of the ‘Habormaster’, as it were.

After some time in this role, she would be transferred over to the 503rd Marine Regiment, stationed in Ori’Zar, 60 degrees Galactic Longitude and some 15,000 Light Years from Mars. Her role then was much the same, in transporting personnel, though in fairness she was then dedicated to the movement of armed troops. The 503rd saw little planetary action, though were called-on to board, several times, transports in the planet’s orbit who were not signalling the proper codes. As such, the vessel would see some action in implementing her cannons to crack-open freighters and cargo bays.

However, she would eventually be transferred to the Admiral’s unit of Q-Ships, retrofitted at Gregarius Shipyards for combat ability. Along with an increase in weaponry, the vessel was outfitted with more powerful engines, reactors, and a strengthened hull, along with other modifications to allow for it to engage and destroy pirates with relative certainty. A year after entering Gregarius, the vessel would be released onto the Great Void.

She would have success in her pirate-raiding, destroying several enemy raiding squadrons within her first month before such things settled-down into low-intensity warfare as the pirates realized that something was amiss with these new ships and traders coming-in. Her stellar Imperial career would be cut-short, however, by the Admiral’s orders and by the villainy of her captain, and she would begin her life of mercenary work.

ALL I ASK IS A TALL SHIP

Name: Ezekiel Blackburn

Skills:

• Tactical Awareness. Ezekiel is fully capable of accessing a
  situation and taking the, in his mind, correct course of action,
  though such a thing may be of a less-than-satisfactory nature
  due to his style of engagement.
• Piloting. Ezekiel is capable of flying his craft and other small
  craft, which he has learned to do in the Great Void, and has
  both the technical knowledge and reflexes to do so. He did,
  after all, serve as a pilot.

Weaknesses:

• Ranged Combat. While being trained with rifles and pistols,
  Ezekiel was only done so at the start of his tenure with the
  military which has, as can be expected, become
  less-than-known. While he has worked somewhat upon his
  marksmanship, he is still not an amazing shot.
• Melee Combat. While being trained with hand-to-hand combat,
  such a thing only occurs at the beginning and during training
  and was not exactly followed-through with during the rest of
  his time in the military. While he does work upon this, there
  is a clear difference between a new learner and an old hand,
  as it were.
• Sight. Ezekiel does not have the most amazing sight and
  while this does not warrant glasses it does ensure that he
  cannot see certain colors, as it were.

Age: 34
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Nationality/Allegiance: Medusa
Physical Appearance:

Standing at 6’3”, Ezekiel has the standard physique of a former pilot with the Empire. Somewhat stout, he’s just a tad more skinny than the greater norm, though that is not to state much. In terms of musculature his is mostly upon his upper body, though Ezekiel is far more lithe than a bodybuilder, as it were. His skin is far more tanned than the greater norm, though the man’s brown hair does not stick-out in a crowd. What does stick-out in a crowd would be his beard and amazing moustache.

In terms of clothing, he prefers to wear a loose shirt, often white or light brown, tucked into a pair of heavy work pants, often of the camouflage variety from his military days or of a dark blue. These are often tucked into a pair of black work boots. Over this entire ensemble is often a black jacket, though sometimes he does wear his old flying jacket, a dark blue with a more utilitarian outlook, with patches ripped-off. Ezekiel does not often wear gloves or anything of that sort.

In terms of jewelry, Ezekiel wears blessed little, save for a few bits and pieces he has collected over the years. Such things include a little coin he wears about his neck, with a hole punched-in for the fine chain, which he considers to be a minor good luck charm sort of thing, something he got from his sister actually. In addition to this, he wears a little bracelet made of cruder metal another of his brothers, a younger brother, made, with inscriptions upon the inside.

Identifying Marks:

• Ezekiel has a scar upon his upper forearm, right arm, running down the long of it for approximately three inches. Appears to be a knife wound. Such a wound was gained from a knife fight and disagreement in a bar upon Ximar’Tri.
• Ezekiel has three scars of a circular nature about his stomach, all being treated well and healed moderately. Appears to be gunshot wounds of approximately .45 caliber. Such wounds were gained from a shoot-out with local officers following a poor trade of goods.

Personality:

Having a more wary outlook upon most things, Ezekiel is not one to immediately jump upon a contract as he has been burned in the past for doing so. Looking at it, and indeed any situation, before approaching is something he does often, weighing the pros and cons and gauging precisely how much the customer is not telling him.

However, once a contract is struck, he does do his best to perform said contract, both due to a feeling of honor on his part as someone who has stated he will perform a certain task and a feeling that some form of retribution or another will follow him if he does not perform that task, be it by an almighty judge or by the original individuals who hired him.

While not one to lie, Ezekiel is not a white knight upon a shining horse, as it were, morally; he views certain things as a necessity to perform, for the good of the contract and, more importantly, for the good of the crew and ship. He views their survival as the more important of the things and, if having forced to chose between the death or certain injury of one crewmember and the completion of a mission, or not completing the mission, would always chose the latter; in Ezekiel’s mind, the mission can always be completed while a crewmember cannot always be healed.

Likes/dislikes:

+ Chocolate
+ Zoru’Cre Beer
+ Reading
- White Chocolate
- Zoru’Chre Beer
- Podcasts.

Fears:

Ezekiel’s main fear would be the loss of his vessel or knowingly, whether by inaction or action, causing injury or death to one of his crew. Knowingly causing injury or death to anyone else? No, that’s not really a main fear. Another fear of his would be imprisonment by the Empire, though such a thing goes without saying.

---

Bio:

Born on Mars, Ezekiel held the greater joys of being born into a family with a deep-seated interest in stellar aviation. His father was a test pilot for the Cyanian Empire, which was a quite interesting ordeal, all things considered. He would never talk about such events, as they were always top-secret and all that greater joy. His mother held the twin interests of naval architecture, being notable for working on the Archima-Triarch Shipyards and aiding in the propulsion systems for that gigant machination. Due to both of his parents being extremely busy in their lives, Ezekiel more often spent his time in talking towards and playing with both his siblings and caretaker, which his mother hired when he was born.

Ezekiel’s caretaker was of the kinder sort, an older woman whose interests and joys were of the sort that his passions flourished. The widow of an Army Officer of the Cyanian Empire, she was a mischievous sort who enjoyed playing games and who enjoyed, if only for a little while and if only towards a little degree, to be a kid again, to play games with kids and to joke and jape. When his interests turned towards his father’s work, that of flying aircraft, she would aid him in getting books and information upon the subject.

His imagination was taken captive. Ezekiel wanted to go to space, wanted to fly and enjoy the great joys of space. He wanted to be a fighter pilot first, enraptured by romantic tales of swashbuckling, dashing young men, conquering space and conquering their foes before them, the sorts of people who held little fear and great bravado. Then he wanted to be a stalwart naval commander, taking the con and directing great fleets from a bridge, remembered in history books for tactical prowess and style, for ability in the face of danger. He wanted to do all this and his caretaker, and indeed four siblings, took great interest in this.

However, his first introduction towards these things did not go as amazingly as planned. His father, glad that his son was thinking upon joining him in the Navy and taking some leave, took him aside at the young age of twelve, bringing him to the Commission to try and attempt to get his son into the Officer Corps. He would be denied for this, the statement, officially, being that they did not want the young breed of an overzealous fighter jockey. Well. Perhaps that wasn’t the official statement, but that was one of those which was given. Ezekiel’s father would come-back from this experience suitably fuming; who were they to inform him that his son wasn’t good enough to go into the Navy as an Officer? Well, no matter. The next best thing would be able to happen.

An application was put into the Fighter Corps, to be trained as a pilot, and Ezekiel would go to the medical examination with some little trepidation. He was young and the place was a strange one, full of strange, older individuals, and though he had the youthful enthusiasm he was somewhat afraid of these events. They might disapprove of his imagination, his reasoning, his ideas or concepts or his very being there. Despite efforts on the part of his father, he had heard of the opinion on the Officer Corps on him and thus was well-aware that some people did not approve of his existence being in such places. But the Fighter Corps was different, yes? Of course it was. It has his father’s people. Of course they’d understand.

Yet they would receive the information upon such matters. He could not join the Fighter Corps; they wouldn’t take him either. They said it was due to issues with Ezekiel’s sight, him not being able to see certain colors and the like and having sub-standard hearing which was considered necessary for a pilot to have. His father was devastated, Ezekiel just as so, and for some time he did not really know what to do. He would continue to move through school and the like, finding such things interesting to a lesser degree. In some ways, it would not challenge him in the least. His teachers would make good attempts at doing so, though they would invariably come into issues; he did such schoolwork with little passion or interest.

Upon his graduation, at sixteen years of age as was standard at that establishment, Ezekiel would come into contact with one such individual who would change his life. A Lieutenant Callahan swung-by the graduation, talking with some people and congratulating others; she herself had a child who had graduated in the same class as Ezekiel. She was of the more rough-and-tumble sort, in his opinion, and she and Ezekiel talked for some time. A former infantrywoman, her own prospects were little after shrapnel tore-out several tendons in her leg. Accidental explosion, she said. Yet then she had joined the Transport Corps, with the Navy, and had been doing such interesting things since.

The Transport Corps, you see, was the sort of establishment that took what it could get. Incapable of really moving goods out to the Rim, and unable to gain the sort of interest which it needed, the Corps had substantially lowered it’s own physical standards for piloting a vessel to, essentially, needing a pair of eyes, a leg, and an arm. There was discussion at that time to allow for individuals with a prosthetic eye to pilot transports, though that was eventually canned.

And so Ezekiel would join the Transport Corps of the Navy of the Cyanian Empire, a long title if he had ever seen one. He would go-off to school in the outer areas, as training was performed closer to the Long Bar than some might to admit, and found the job to be interesting in the very least of terms. Not training on the larger, sluggish, and more plodding vessels, Ezekiel would get the joy of being trained to fly the smaller gunships and transport craft, the sorts of vessels that did things. His dreams of guts and glory were long dead by this point, you see; he had, in some ways, wisened-up.

He would perform his service admirably, that is to state quietly; transport craft were often relegated to the lesser missions of ferrying cargo between larger vessels and stations which could not receive them, of taxiing troops, officials, ensigns between the station and their own ship, the great joys of being a glorified cab driver. After some time it became monotonous for Ezekiel; there was little joy in it. That is to state, there was little joy in it until he ferried one specific individual. The man was of the sort to be quiet, only ever asking if Ezekiel wanted something more after he got-off to a battleship for some meeting or another. The young man of course answered yes.

Later-on that month, he would be drafted into a special, black-ops program. Well, stating that it was a ‘black-ops’ program is an overstatement; one Admiral had used his authority to try and create anti-piracy measures. You see, while the Outer Rim of the Empire relied upon, for the most part, trade in their own region, on local supplies, some of the more exotic military fleets required material and ordinance from the central worlds. While convoy usage was done, lone vessels to bring supplies there happened regardless; some shipping companies simply felt that they did not want to wait. Irritated by this fact existing, and by the perceived over reliance the Admiral thought the Empire had on independent couriers, he wished to create a program to make the pirates have second thoughts.

And so, like Admirals hundreds of years before him, he came-up with the concept of the Q-Ship: A heavily armed vessel masquerading as a transport, such a thing was designed to surprise pirate raiders before opening-up with unwarranted firepower. As this was a private endeavor, not precisely allowed by the higher-ups, the Admiral could not hire the wanted fighter pilots. As such, he instead hired pilots used to the smaller transports and vessels. Ezekiel was one such person.

He would perform quite well in this, in his first two years downing some twenty pirate vessels, which was quite a good haul all things considered. However, such a thing would not last, as upon one time he would come-upon a Cipaqoaltus Federation Privateer, a vessel which was about corvette-sized and under orders to engage pirate and freighter vessels it could see. Under fire, Ezekiel would return it, and with some concentrated fire would disable the enemy’s engines and shields. However, as he was soon to be under attack by a Federation Squadron, the young man was forced to flee.

Due to his inability to destroy the enemy, and due to the information on the Q-Ship project leaking-out to the public and enemy with less success than the Admiral wished, Ezekiel would be thrown under the bus, as it were. Declared to be a pirate character whose “Attempts at gaining personal glory placed Imperial lives at risk”, as it was perceived that, if given half the chance, unarmed freighters could be placed at-risk. Of course, such freighters were already at-risk, but the Admiralty was nothing if not persistent in the idea that the enemy would fight honorably.

As such, Ezekiel would go to the Great Void, hiding-out among the pirates and mercenaries, becoming a mercenary himself.

Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: (Optional)
RP Sample: I’m good, thanks.
CAPTAIN TO ENTERPRISE (DO NOT REMOVE)

Name: Uta Bohlen

Skills:

• Rifle Training. While she hasn’t picked one up in some time she
  still knows how to use one and it hasn’t ever really left her. It’s
  what she did, after all, for a good bit of her life, even if that
  bit of life included a good deal of alcohol and drugs.
• Radio/Comm Training. She knows the procedures and that is
  that.

Weaknesses:

• Drug Issues. While Uta is still attempting to be clean, it’s
  a hard knock life for us and all that. It still takes some effort
  to not perform such actions and she has to really try and not
  getting them.

Age: 27
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Nationality/Allegiance: Medusa
Physical Appearance:

Standing some 5’4”, quite short for someone of her age, Uta has the stoutness one might expect from a former soldier. Musculature is an easy thing to find with her; she does, after all, work to keep herself in-shape. Tanned skin reigns supreme, along with a crop of blonde hair Uta keeps short. Bags under her brown eyes indicate that she’s still working-through the former addiction.

In terms of clothing, Uta prefers to way a brown-gray flight suit of indeterminate material, harsher on the skin, over her normal clothes. These normally consist of a black shirt tucked into pants or, if she’s feeling particularly interesting, shorts. Normal shoes of forever gray colors top this off. Heavy armor may be worn.

Uta does not wear massive amounts of jewelry, though she does own some few pieces ranging from a small stone, inset into a cheap bronzantium, with two flimsy clasps which can sort of pass for a bracelet to a more expensive bit of Shiran-esque crystalline necklace she wears essentially never. While working she simply does not wear jewelry at all.

Identifying Marks:

• Small star tattoo, black, on lower back. Purchased during a bit of alcohol-fueled splurging.
• Riotous tattoo of a collection of suitably naked and half-naked women, back, in such poises as The Last Supper, an ancient Earther painting. Probably purchased during a bit of alcohol-fueled splurging. Probably.

Personality:

Since her issues in the Army, and since her required necessity to become sober, useful, and not entirely a waste, Uta has become a far more work-driven individual. Well. She’s tried to become a far more work-driven individual. It’s a work in process. While at her post she’s a concentrated person, though Uta does take great enjoyment in releasing whatever tension which might build-up at the bars and other establishments. Moderately a cause of tension within the crew. Uta doesn’t try to.

Likes/dislikes:

+ Carnal Relations
+ Xoru’Sha Tea
+ English Breakfast Tea
+/- Relaxants
- Alcohol
- “Gentlemen Explorers”

Fears:

Uta severely fears losing control in her fight against relaxants, as it were, and fears greatly losing her father, who has not been the most stable, mentally, in these recent years. It’s not at all a certain thing, that. She fears, in addition to this, simply losing contact with him, as such a thing might possibly mean that he's gone, one way or another. It delivers a more constant strain to her.

---

Bio:

Born at 30 degrees Galactic Longitude, upon the border between the Empire and Independent Kingdoms, Uta’s parents were both of the more independent style. Her father was born in the Independent Kingdoms, a naturalized citizen who was formerly a refugee from one of the more despotic regimes which laid therein. Her mother was of the strong brand, a soldier with the 929th Marine Regiment stationed there. Her early life was of the more quiet sort, ambling along as they did with her father at-home, watching the kids and the like. It was good, and the idea of anything wrong occurring did not really occur to them.

Yet, upon one day as Uta was some fifteen years old, a letter was received. Her mother had, with great courage, honor, and duty, along with the rest of that nonsense, died whilst performing smuggler interdiction duties near the planet’s higher orbits. Apparently, after boarding, the other vessel’s pilot attempted to run, firing engines to full while the boarding tube was still connected. What resulted was a tear in said tube and ‘rapid decompression’; to state simply, both vessels crumpled like tin cans. Both her and her father were distraught; such a thing didn’t really come to mind when she went-off to work, when she came home, there never had been that worry or anything like that worry. The planetary government gave some small amount of a pension, though that wasn’t even enough to afford the place they had, minor as it was.

And so, the two moved to the less reputable areas, the areas that people enjoyed warning others about. The streetlights flickered, the police did not really have a concept on human rights, the law was a vague and nebulous thing that allowed for all sorts of activities when it suited the authorities and granted harsh repercussions if it did not suit them. Times were hard for both of them, her father drifting into the territory of alcoholism, becoming severely depressed by the loss of his wife. She’d saved his life, back then, back when he was in the Independent Kingdoms. She’d been his everything.

When Uta turned eighteen, she had to move out; the money that was required to feed both of them simply wasn’t there and what little jobs her father could get would never pay for both of them. Her prospects were little; such places simply did not allow for honest work, less you left the place behind. She would enlist in the military, in the Imperial Army as a Radioman. Training wasn’t that bad, in some ways an easier thing than being in the slums. She became a good deal more independent than she was before, less of a mouse though never by far.

She would be posted to the 349th Infantry Regiment, stationed on Jurant, a planet some three light years away, working on crowd control with the local police that. It never was a harsh thing, though her record wasn’t unblemished. Through accidents made, in her career, several civilian transports were destroyed, and even though such things were both her and the soldiers on the ground’s fault, Uta would still feel guilty on it all. She began to take part in more recreational activity, first the alcohol and then came the drugs in the den. Relaxants were her choice. They made her forget.

Such events would lead to another, far larger accident, culminating in a minor uprising and a brutal suppression as such. Uta would take responsibility for her actions then, for authorizing full use of force without getting permission to do so, and would both be dishonorably discharged from the Army and be forced to leave the planet for fear of revenge on the part of the civilians.

Uta has, since then, fled to the Great Void, where she would meet Ezekiel and join his crew.

Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: (Optional)
RP Sample:
CAPTAIN TO ENTERPRISE (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Ormata]

Name: Nomura Emika

Skills:

• Piloting. In her experience with the Party before and with her
  experience in being an independent pilot she’s relatively
  well-versed in how to fly a craft and how to otherwise engage
  others. Honestly does so with a minor bit of flair.

Weaknesses:

• Melee Combat. Emika is not the sort to fight in hand-to-hand
  or to really be that good at such tasks. She simply isn’t that
  well-suited to fighting, in mind or, really, body.
• Negotiation. Emika’s a quiet person and perhaps such silence
  might lead to issues becoming more extreme in an undue
  manner. While diligent, working-out issues behind closed doors
  is a slower method than not, after all.

Age: 19
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Nationality/Allegiance: Medusa
Physical Appearance:

Standing at a normal height of 5’7”, built in a more lithe, skinny way, Emika’s body type can be characterized by a lack of overall fat with lesser musculature than might be expected for an individual formerly in the military. Her skin’s more pale than the greater norm, along with midnight black hair which Emika keeps short. Her eyes are dark blue.

Emika prefers to wear lighter, more airy clothing, white shirts and brown or gray-blue pants along with the normal shoes. Jackets are, at times, worn, though this is less often in her experience due to the fact that she has not precisely been upon a planet with a humid or cold atmosphere for a long, long time.

In jewelry, Emika owns none.

Identifying Marks:

• Scar on upper back, right, aside the shoulder blade. Approximately 2 inches long. Appears to be from a knife wound.
• Tattoo on stomach, Tree, black.
• Tattoo on shoulder, right, compass w/ roses adorning, black.

Personality:

Emika is one of the sorts to be infinitely quiet. She’s not at all the sort to burst-out into conversation and most definitely would be categorized as a person still coming to terms with her recent exit out of a more authoritarian state. Simply put, if she finds something distasteful it’s entirely possible that she will keep quiet until she is otherwise along with her superior officer to voice such concerns.

Likes/dislikes:

+ Clean Environments.
+ Organization
+ Quiet Coworkers
- Substantially Louder Coworkers
- Alcoholics
- Drug-Induced Stupidity

Fears:

Emika’s worst fear would most likely be the discovery of her betrayal of her father or, indeed, the sort of environment she grew-up in. As she’s traveled the young girl has slowly come to the realization that such things are most definitely not normal and that her actions, as such, are shameful and should be kept in the dark.

---

Bio:

Emika was born in the Independent Kingdoms section of the galaxy, at 0 degree Galactic Longitude and upon the Far 3kpc Arm, to one of the more interesting, despotic regimes. That is to state a Communist regime had sprung-up in the area after one of the more despotic mining companies had abused its people for far too long. Her father was one of the Commissars, working alongside the government to root-out corruption. In some ways he enjoyed that sort of thing. In some other ways he was shoehorned into the position, told to do it immediately after school. If he refused at that time, well, he would have been an Enemy of the State or some other term for “Shoot on Sight” people. Emika’s mother, meanwhile, was the traditional stay-at-home mother.

Such things went quite well for some time. Her father would come home late at night, clicking-on the old television that flared and broke-out into color at random moments, cracking-open a beer and maybe giving her mother a kiss on the cheek. Sometimes he wouldn’t come home at all. He was a distant thing, then; you didn’t have massive connections when you were a Commissar. Emika’s mother tried to give some sort of comfort, then, and that went well, too. They’d talk, after school, talk and talk as the young girl’s mind was filled with a greater helping of propaganda by the schools. She eventually turned somewhat paranoid, from it all, and began to believe that anyone, anyone, could be an Enemy of the State. All they had to do was do the wrong actions, the little things that gave themselves away.

School was like that, on that planet in the Kingdoms. You would go there and be taught all the basics, all the math and writing and science and the rest of the normal stuff, all before singing patriotic songs like you would when you were just five years old. You’d belt them out with pride, not fully understanding the words but understanding that obedience was rewarding and questions punished. They said that, too, sometimes. It’d how things were.

She was just eleven when she saw her father start to perform stranger things at home. He’d argue with Emika’s mother, at times, late and late at night, arguing about his superiors and arguing about the direction of the government. He’d argue and complain and critique and all these things were such things that she was taught to watch for. Her mother, nor father, caught her; she was just a little mouse, then. She said nothing, just watched from the shadows of the house and through the little cracked door and stood still. They went to sleep, the bedsprings creaking.

Emika would tell later, her father taken-away the next day in the middle of the night. They’d receive some little government aid, coming onto food stamps and other programs in some little attempt to stay above it all. Her mother came into a deep sadness, in some ways going-on mechanically. Emika mildly noticed, but not quite; her mother did as she should and that was all. The young girl was cold to her family, then. It’s what the Party had told her to do. It’s what they had always said to do.

When she would turn eighteen, Emika would, like many then, join the military. In part this was because such jobs were quite good in terms of pay and the like, compared to the manufacturing jobs which you might hear a good few horror stories upon. For the most part she did so because she was, from a young age, told she would do so. It’s simply what one did. Emika was told she would be fighting to help aid the nation, to work towards a better, brighter future. She was given, like many children then, an image that they were working to uphold a great experiment as it were.

Yet such a thing would not last, leading to a rival of Emika’s pointing her out for actions against the state or some other concept. Such a thing, of course, carried with it a death sentence, and so she fled into the Great Void, searching for work as an independent pilot and keeping quiet about her own beliefs. Since then, such beliefs have been softened by contact with others and she has been taken-on by Ezekiel, and the Medusa, as a pilot.

Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: (Optional)
RP Sample:
CAPTAIN TO ENTERPRISE (DO NOT REMOVE)

Name: Kendrick Deonte Barerra

Skills:

• Size. Kendrick is a big guy and well-muscled. He can move his
  stuff and he can otherwise restrain individuals who need to be
  restrained. Overall good for muscle.
• Corpsman. Kendrick’s skill in ensuring that people don’t die
  is inherited from a mercenary he liked to hang-out with back
  home who worked in the infirmary. He picked-up a few things.

Weaknesses:

• Diplomacy. Kendrick doesn’t really have it. He can crack a
  joke, but will otherwise just shut up when the serious stuff
  happens.
• Speed. Look, two for two, he doesn’t really have that either.
  The combination of height and muscle does not agree with any
  sort of long-distance running or short-distance sprinting. His
  stride is a good deal long, but you can’t expect him to keep-up
  his run for an hour.

Age: 18
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Nationality/Allegiance: Medusa
Physical Appearance:

Standing 6’8”, one of the giants owing to the lack of gravity on RMTA-04-02, Kendrick’s musculature was not massively affected by this event. For the most part, all you had then was playing with the other kids, something which got old amazingly quickly, or worked-out. He would often choose the latter. As a result of this he’s really rather built. The man has darker skin, owed to heritage, and a crop of black dreadlocks with the same scruff about his chin.

In terms of clothing, he prefers to wear his own combination of wear. A shirt, tucked into heavy and patched blue jeans, is worn underneath an often bright jacket, over which Kendrick prefers to wear his leather coat. A variety of clips and wire adorns his heavy belt, along with often a holster to go along with it. Heavy armor is sometimes also worn for engagements.

Kendrick wears some jewelry, or what can be identified as-such, starting with a bit of necklace, made from white tubing which has been chemically altered, read dunked in said chemicals, to make it a good deal more flexible and a good deal more shrunk, turning the length into a thin little thing a thumbnail’s diameter. Embedded in this, upon one length, is a series of the more shiny rocks, as it were. Hey, it’s cheap. In addition to this, Kendrick wears a pair of dog tags from two buddies of his.

Identifying Marks:

• Minor scar, face, 1 inch in length and upon the left cheek. Shallow. Appears to be from a knife-cut.

Personality:

Kendrick is what one might term ‘a kid’. He plays his games, some videogames which were snagged on a pirate run on the Soru Line, and overall enjoys the littler, smaller things in life. In simple terms, he likes inexpensive hobbies and has inexpensive tastes. He’s not one to be quiet by any stretch of the imagination. During any sort of mission he is somewhat less so, though not by a greater degree. Really rather loyal, as most kids are.

Likes/dislikes:

+ Game Boy SP (No, seriously. It is)
+ Videojuegos
+ Beer (Of any kind)
+ Tiny People
- Serious Twits
- The Overly Moronic
- Honestly that’s it

Fears:

Kendrick’s largest fear would by dying or, conversely, failing those people he likes to call ‘friends’. No-one gets left behind, as it were.

---

Bio:

Born in the Great Void, Kendrick’s early life was not one of either intense training or, really, schooling. The planet he was born on, RMTA-04-02, was one of those nice worlds that literally had no name. It had a number and that was, really, it. The planet was one of those lifeless rocks, a planetoid with neither the great mass to support an atmosphere nor the mineral elements to support a major mining operation. The sheer reason his parents, and their kin, were upon that planetoid was very, very simple; these were the leftovers, the pirates and raiders and minor criminals. These people were, in total, of the sort that were greatly disliked by most of everyone.

His parents both worked in the spaceport as flightcrew, something which gave Kendrick reason to believe that they met via that job and didn’t take it to be nearer to one-another. As a kid he wasn’t amazingly impressed by the world about him; living in a metal box was not all that it was cracked-up to be and while the people there were for some part nice most were more of the gruff sort. Their polite natures was only due to their need to be polite and not get kicked-off the station for throttling some kid and, as such, they were most definitely not of the more genuine sort. The fact that one couldn’t go outside at all hurt such aspects.

As a kid, along with all the other spawn, Kendrick would play with them often. You see, one of the benefits of having a little home port and being hyped-up on the great joy which was life was that, every time a vessel came-in to dock from a run of raiding, a miniscule Baby Boom would occur. As such, the amount of children there was really rather surprising. Yet he would play with them and they would play with him. It was an interesting time.

Yet his imagination would be captured by another concept, one alien to him and seeming so far-off. He imagined green fields and fair trees, imagined a place you could walk and walk and walk and never be halted for fear of running out of air. Kendrick imagined a cool breeze on his skin, things to that effect. He imagined a normal world, a world that most certainly wasn’t RMTA-04-02. He imagined that sort of place and waited to visit, be there, see it all.

As a result of this, first transport he found, Kendrick took it. That was the Medusa, a year ago. He hasn’t looked back since.

Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: (Optional)
RP Sample:
CAPTAIN TO ENTERPRISE (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Character is WiP, as well as some other apps for background.

[Cylarn]

-snip-

I'll let you shoulder the burden, then. Odds are I'd end up the loner/lovable tramp of the group, like Dr. Zoidberg.

[Ormata]

-snip-

I'll let you shoulder the burden, then. Odds are I'd end up the loner/lovable tramp of the group, like Dr. Zoidberg.

Lol. Thanks.

That should be interesting.

[Cylarn]

Name: "Benedict Thayer."
Age: "Thirty-three."
Gender: "Yes please."
Species: "Human."
Nationality/Allegiance: "Myself, right now. I used to be sworn to my beloved Acadia, but working for myself is much more rewarding - and anxiety-free. I'm a citizen of Acadia, for the record."
Physical appearance: "I'm 6'0, which is the perfect height. One-hundred eighty pounds of athletic muscle to boot, which I've gained more through work than through weights. I spend a lot of time in space, but my skin is a noticeable tan. I'm from Colovia, which is a farming region on El Dorado. Coming from generations of soldiers-turned-farmers, I guess I've inherited a darker tint to my skin than most. I don't hardly slouch, I keep my back straight and tall when I'm on my feet, and I have the tendency to make too much eye contact, some say."

"What do I wear? It all depends on what's going on. Aboard ships, I prefer a set of navy blue fatigues; tucked-in blouse, cargo pants, black t-shirt, and a pair of black combat boots. I de-blouse a lot, too. If it's a day in which nothing is going on, I might wear simply a Hawaiian shirt (which I might end up wearing at any given time, a pair of PT shorts, and some flip-flops. In combat, I wear an ablative/bullet-resistant plate carrier, closed helmet, and armor to protect my vital arteries and veins. I'm comfortable in a combat-spec EVA hardsuit, too, and own a navy blue variant made for Breachers."
Identifying Marks: "Got no tats, scars underneath my shirt. I have three bullet wounds - upper left arm, right side of my neck, and up on my right calf. I have a knife-wound on my right hand, where I took a stiletto through the hand."

---

Skills: "Breacher. Normally, that alone can surmise what I know, but I'll flesh it out. Acadians are, by birthright, warriors; men and women must give back to their king by serving in his Legion. I learned the basics as a Conscript Legionnaire - taking apart and firing guns, land navigation, tactical wound care, battle movements, and all of that other good grunt work. I did my first two years in the Royal Pfeiffer Light Infantry, and was stationed out on Mycenae I, or 'Mike One', two years before the Federation invaded. Most of it was spent patrolling the savannahs and shooting bandits, but I garnered some appreciation for combat. I went through an Advanced Light Infantry Course, or 'A-LIC,' which sharpened my skills in prolonged firefights and fighting in a variety of environments. A-LIC is all about endurance and survival; you learn how to fight in places where Powered guys might get bogged down, and you learn how to thrive while everyone else is sucking."

"After my two years were up, I stayed in the Legion and got transferred over to the Marines, hitched with a VTOL Infantry Team, or 'V-TIT.' Learned how to rappel from a bird, shoot from a bird, and jump from a bird with a jetpack. Did some time fighting the Federation on Mike-1, and then I got offered a slot for the Breachers after my second deployment to Mike-1. As a Breacher, you learn demolitions like a master EOD, how to navigate in the vacuum of space with nothing but an EVA suit and a pair of magboots, not to mention the ends and outs of about every type of ship you can think of. I know where to put a bomb on a TA-58 Light Frigate in order to suck out the air and kill everyone in a prolonged way, or I can take a charge, pop an entry hole, and then introduce a ship's security crew to the joys of kill-house-type shooting."

"In a way, a Breacher is a space-faring engineer/commando. I have an intermediate level of skill with airlock overrides, electrical work, information systems hacking, sabotaging life support, destroying/fixing engines, and other things that you'd expect a Combat Engineer to do. We also know how to fight inside of a ship - and take it. There are a lot of tight and winding corridors in ships, not to mention airlocks, points of hull sensitivity, choke-points, and such. It's nerve-wracking to clear that shit, never knowing who or what is past the bend. Almost a year of my two-year Breacher training was dedicated to fighting inside ships, working as a team with my fellow Marines to clear rooms and corridors, and learning how to use a ship's systems to kill it."

"Those are the job-specifics. I can do things like a normal person; cook, clean, swim, run, fly small spacecraft, complain."
Personality: "People tend to look at me - average-looking me - and get all scared. I'm a Type A, but I'm also not a Type A, if that makes any sense. I'm confident and comfortable in my own skills, abilities, and judgement, but holding all that - or myself - above anyone is not who I am. I don't mind people as long as they're not assholes, at which point I'll speak up. I might be mild-mannered, but that doesn't mean that I can't or want set someone straight. Do I get bouts of unreasonable anger? Sometimes. Jealous when it comes to love? Sure; I'm flawed like the rest of us."
Weaknesses: "Oh, I am fucked up and I know it. Mixing stimulants and depressants will do that to you; uppers and downers. When you're fighting wars, you gotta stay awake whenever it's most inconvenient. That's when the enemy starts cracking the wind, when you're tired and ready to shut down and recharge. I snort a line of speed or take a pill, and that'll put a rocket in my ass for sure. The Legion hands out upper like candy, but they also do downers. Sometimes, I get the shakes, which I used to get bad when I was young. Amytal sets me up just right. So does booze. In total, I've been drugging for fifteen years now, not counting pot or booze though."

"It's not the uppers or downers that get me; it's the withdrawals and side-effects. I'm an addict and I know it. The only detox I get while on the job is the kind where I bite the bullet and deal with the shakes, the body pain, nausea, and all that shit. Sometimes, I run out of my stash, and so I've gotta supplement with pot and weed. That don't cut it one bit, so if I'm not using, I'm a mess. It's gonna kill me at some point."
Likes/dislikes: "Sex. Don't give me that look; I'm only a human being! I like attractive, accomplished women, ones that fall in love with a person, not a persona. Drinking's up there, too, because I associate it with downtime. Smoking cigarettes, the open savannah, hunting, watching old movies, salsa dancing, shooting beer cans off of a fence, and smoking cigars."
Interests: Look above.
Fears: "Dying alone. We won't go into a description."

---

Bio: "I was born on the Thayer family homestead, out in the farming region of Colovia. The Thayers had been around since Acadia was nothing but a single city and single planet - El Dorado. Mom and Dad were vets like everybody else, and they carried on the Thayer tradition of toiling the soil. I started working the farm when I was six, feeding chickens and shoveling horseshit for hours on end. Started cutting down corn stalks and shucking corn by seven, among other things. Boy, my parents made me work to the fucking bone."

"High school went by fast like the time, and before I knew it, I was reading off a commitment pledge in front of the Acadian and Cyanian flags. I chose Infantry, like my dad before me. Basic sucked dick, because that's what Basic basically does. Got shipped over to the Pfeiffer Light Infantry, which was posted to Castle Bridger on Mycenae I. It's in the Acadian Home System, one of only three 'garden worlds.' Mostly savannah, with some arid desert patches and wooded areas. Some large bodies of water, but I didn't see a lot of it. Bridger oversaw a lot of nothing, but that 'lotta nothing' had a lot of bandit activity. The only thing that flowed through the vast savannah around Bridger was an overland trade route connecting the important oasis cities of Vidal and Cerro Gordo, a thousand miles of dirt road."

"Things got heated, a lot. Assholes liked work the road and hit lone cars, so our commanders had us running checkpoints and responding to distress calls. We combed the rocky hills and the dunes, looking for holes where the bandits hid out. If I'm being honest, it felt good to pop grenades in their holes, and dive in there to shoot them. There was nothing valiant about it, like my drill instructors made fighting out to be, but I caught on quick to find the meaning in what we were doing. I also attended an advanced infantry course at Bridger, which bumped up my pay."

"Two years at Bridger, and my conscription was up. I was given a choice of transferring to any service of my choice, or retiring into civilian life. I chose the former, and joined a VTOL outfit with the Marines. I was out of Air Assault School on the same day that the Federation landed on Mike-1. Within hours, I was thrown into a unit and shipped off back to the edge of the system. Vidal had fallen to a massive invasion force; most resistance was focused in the outskirts, because the Lizards had already taken most of the city by the time I landed. Our initial response was flawed; while the city's defenders were fighting tooth and nail, all of our fighter cover got sent up into space to fight an invasion fleet that completely dwarfed our own navy."

"My first action was to contain a Fed breakout from the outskirts, and that went over smoothly. As soon as our VTOLs got within gun-range, we were lit up by forward AA batteries, not to mention Fed fighters that were exploiting the lack of opposition in the skies. My bird was the only one - out of ten - that touched down safely. Out of 400 men, only about 90 of us were alive to fight on the ground. For an hour, using the burning husks of our VTOLs, the Marines and I held our ground against the Feds. They were conscripts, recruited from one of the Fed's vassal states. You could barely call them warriors, but the specialists were all professional Fed troops. 10 of ours died, compared to some 500 of their guys, by the time that the Rangers and 1st Armored arrived to close the gap."

"I was only on Mike-1 for a year-long deployment, but it felt like ages. I was constantly in motion, deployed in a dynamic world in which my survival depended on a curious combination of luck, skill, and instincts. We slowed the Feds down after Vidal fell, but the fighting was intense. When my time came to leave, I took it. I wasn't yet allowed to return home, however. I got an invitation to leave the hellhole that was Mike-1, and fight the war in a totally different way. The Marine Tactical Intervention Unit, or the "Breachers." They wanted me to breach spacecraft. In space."

"Yeah, soldiers make shit pay, but oh my, was I offered a substantial bonus? It's not like I didn't know that I was cut out to fight wars, but the Breachers are seen as insane, by the standards of the rest of the Legion. You can't find too many men who are willing to space themselves and plant bombs on warships mid-fight, with lasers and fighters and explosions all around. They trained me for two years, getting me EVA-certified, giving me engineering experience, and everything I talked about earlier. I was a bit intimidated by what I was getting into, but that didn't stop me. Our first assignment was to support a rescue op in the Mike-1 territorial space."

"One civilian freighter carrying refugees back to El Dorado had been damaged by ground-fighting. The Feds damaged their engines and left them stranded. A light frigate was patrolling nearby, waiting for the civilians to surrender - or for his command to give the order to fire. We flew in by stealth shuttle, five of us packed on board with an assortment of charges and engineering gear. We stopped within the threshold of their guns undetected, and the five of us took jetpacks to get to the frigate. The job was simple: disable sensors, cut a hole in the frigate, sabotage the life support, and get out."

"It went way easier than any of us expected. Intercepted chatter suggested that they were more concerned with staging a boarding op than remaining vigilant of what was going on aboard their own ship. We cut power to life support, planted four bombs at a sensitive point to depressurize their frigate, and then we took off into space to watch the fireworks. The frigate exploded, all hands aboard lost. The freighter was towed to safety and its human cargo taken to El Dorado. I stayed on with the Breachers for several more years and enhanced my skill at fucking shit up. With the Navy and its ships backing us up, we managed to cut drastically the amount of supplies flowing to the invasion force from Fed territory."

"2010, I decided that I had had enough of serving. It's not that I didn't get a lot out of my service, but I just got tired of the formalities. Merc work is something not uncommon in Acadia, and with the ongoing war, merc talent was in high demand. 3614, and I was part of the crew that brought down one of the few Fed dreadnoughts lost in the history of the Fed. I should tell you about it sometime, but that's when you've gotten the privilege."

"Thrawn B7. Why am I here? Work. Let's end it all there. You know everything you need to know about me."
Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: "Work."
RP Sample: No.
CAPTAIN TO ENTERPRISE (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Shadowwell]

Rup, could i use this Site, for the appearance of my corvette?

the sight is free, but it is mainly if you would allow a link to images like that for the ship appearance.

Proably will use this: http://ship.shapewright.com/?name=Korva ... t+Corvette

Or This: http://ship.shapewright.com/?name=Korvash+Corvette

[Rupudska]

Rup, could i use this Site, for the appearance of my corvette?

the sight is free, but it is mainly if you would allow a link to images like that for the ship appearance.

Proably will use this: http://ship.shapewright.com/?name=Korva ... t+Corvette

Or This: http://ship.shapewright.com/?name=Korvash+Corvette

If NationStates allows it and it doesn't block hot linking it should be fine, why?

[Ormata]

Well, Rupudska, first two characters and ship are finished.

[Shadowwell]

Rup, could i use this Site, for the appearance of my corvette?

the sight is free, but it is mainly if you would allow a link to images like that for the ship appearance.

Proably will use this: http://ship.shapewright.com/?name=Korva ... t+Corvette

Or This: http://ship.shapewright.com/?name=Korvash+Corvette

If NationStates allows it and it doesn't block hot linking it should be fine, why?

Well there shouldnt eb any problems, the sight that has the generator says it is free and you can use them.

i was just wondering, just in case you would prefer people use ships from the Empire or the like. thanks. will get a ship and character app up soon. But first, what concept did you have for the snails.

The Lizards are mammalphobes, but si there anything more to the snail guys other than they are hivemind psionics?

[Cylarn]

Rup, I altered Acadia. It's complete.

[Gerdon Laughis]

The Twin Worlds

Planet Name: Aritassa "The Elder" (The Larger) Gornun "The Beguiled" (The Smaller)
Atmosphere: Artissa: 70% Nitrogen, 17% Oxygen, 12% Argon, 1% Trace Gasses. Gornun: 65% Nitrogen, 24% Oxygen, 10.5% Argon, .5% Trace Gasses.
Size and Mass: Artissa: Medium Size, Mass of 7.63x10e24kg, Gornun: Small Size, Mass of 4.56x10e24kg
Axial Tilt, Orbital Distance, and Number: Artissa: 17.84 degrees, 1.3 AU, 4th Planet. Gornun: 8.16 degrees, 1.4 AU, 5th Planet (Moon of Artissa)
Geography and Climate: Artissa: Temperate world, with Large continents that amass the surface. There is Rit, the main continent, Jilon the westernmost, and Duyo, the smallest and southernmost. 2 large oceans by the names of Teguna, and Yohun. The climate across all continents seems to be mainly temperate, though Duyo experiences extreme droughts and has a large desert, Jilon is mainly mountainous, with massive fertile valleys, and Rit is Mainly a flatland with large basins. Gornun: One single Supercontinent with a multitude of Archipelagos across it. The Continent is called Hhuhi and has a handful of massive biomes from deserts to tundras and rainforests. The Sea is Qua'ja and is a standard ocean with large caves and spires underwater.
Culture and History:

History of the Twin Worlds as compiled by Day and Tak Tarr of the 4th Sandannanannan Cycle, Chapter 1: "This is a rough history of our Core world, Artissa the Elder, larger of the two twins, dominant hub of the Republic of the Twin Worlds, and seat of the Sandannanannan Alliance. The history of our world starts with the formation of our Mother Star, Sandannanannan the Beautiful, many billions of years ago. With the formation of Sandannanannan came the formation of the two Twin Worlds that we reside on. Artissa, and Gornun. Since this chapter focuses on Artissa, we will only talk about her and her natives, while we will focus on Gornun and hers in the next chapter. Artissa was formed soon after the creation of our Star, and its moon Gornun soon followed suit, being trapped in her orbit after it drifted too close to Artissa. Due to their relationship, the planets are close enough to maintain a steady flow of resources and goods as both are habitable worlds. Artissa is the homeworld of the Artias, a Bipedal race of humanoids with slender bodies, longer heads, and 4 arms that have evolved to call the world their home. Artissa is named after the Elder Goddess of Artias culture, the supposed creator of life and all pleasure of the flesh. The planet has endured many hardships, and memorials dot the many Artias cities for wars fought long ago, though the now Space Faring Artias have taken great steps to make sure that the planet is well taken care of. After discovering the Ger'an on the sister world of Gornun in the 2nd Sandannanannan Cycle, the Artias preemptively invaded the world, marking the start of what is known as the Twin War. Ultimately the war ended in a standstill after a decade of ruthless fighting, and the Sandannanannan Alliance was formed, locking the two worlds in a peace that lasts to this day. Now, an equal number of Artias and Ger'an live on Artissa, same with Gornun, and culture and architecture from both cultures have shaped that of the Republic of the Twin Worlds."

History of the Twin Worlds as compiled by Day and Tak Tarr of the 4th Sandannanannan Cycle, Chapter 2: As was stated in the previous chapter, Gornun was formed alongside Artissa with the creation of Sandannanannan. It is named after the Artias god Gornun the Beguiled, who was enchanted by the goddess Artissa and bound to her service. This legend explains why the planet orbits Artissa and is a staple head of the religion of the Native Inhabitants. The natives of the land are the Ger'an, a race of bipedal humanoids with bluish skin, much heavier built, but slower than the Artias, and live in both aquatic and land cities. The Ger'an lived in relative peace and prosperity until the strike of the Artias in the Twin War. they managed to singlehandedly repel the invasion of the planet by the superior Artias ships and troops and pulled a victory through. By proving their worth through combat, they were granted entrance into Artias society and signed the Sandannanannan pact, granting both races full rights in both societies, and helped establish the Republic of the Twin Worlds.

BIG OL' BALL

Species Name:Artias
Scientific Name: Alba sicarios
Homeworld: Artissa
Natural lifespan: 92 Earth Years
Physical Description: They are tall race, averaging a height of 6'6, with white skin and no hair. They stand on 2 legs and have 4 arms which they have full mobility with. They are very agile, but lack in physical strength due to how lanky they are. However, their speed makes up for it, allowing them to outrun humans and other races, making them good assassins due to their marksmanship abilities and agility. Mentally they vary like humans do, with most being simple people that focus on the continued survival of their nation and culture, while also caring for others.
Culture and History: Their culture promotes tolerance of races and pushes diplomatic solutions, and as a result, they do not take sides with the massive powers in the galaxy. The Artias tend to not venture past their home system, but those who do take roles as Diplomats, Mercenaries, Soldiers, and Merchants, etc. The majority od the race live in the Republic of the Twin Worlds, with equal population spread on the planets Artissa nad Gornun. Their history was one of great political strife and war, until a final planetary unification by a large nation-state headed by a Dictator. He was overthrown in a bloody worldwide coup and the government that took its place vowed to make sure that the people never waged such a costly war against their own people. They accomplished this goal, but only by causing the invasion of a foreign war. When the first interstellar ships were created, they visited Gornun to find the native populace about to also enter the Interstellar age. Fearing that these "Brutes" would one day invade their planet, they only saw it fit to fight first. However, they underestimated the power of the natives and were fought to a standstill. In return, they uplifted the Ger'an, granted them entrance to their society, and founded the Republic of the Twin Worlds.
CONSIDERED A DELICACY

Species Name: Ger'an
Scientific Name: Non infirmum
Homeworld: Gornun
Natural lifespan: 106 Earth Years
Physical Description: They are a large race averaging a height of 6' even. They have very muscular with an average weight of 205 pounds, and as a result are slower than their allies the Artias, but much stronger. They have bluish/purple skin and hard plating as a part of their skulls under their skin. They are bipedal, with 2 arms, and have the ability to breath on land and underwater due to an adaptation in their lungs. Mentally they are a very easygoing people with high tolerances and patience and value the honor of their families before that of others around them.
Culture and History: They are a caste-based society with a high value on honor. Being a nomadic race throughout the majority of their history, they value the strength of their family members, and they can be bound to servitude if challenged in a traditional dual of their people. Historically, the planet remained completely disunited. Squabbling in several nation-states of varying size, they only truly united once the Artais invaded the planet, and they formed a coalition that ended up becoming the united government for the planet. They managed to fend off the planetwide war, and forged an alliance with their planetary neighbors, securing peace in the system for now.
CONSIDERED A DELICACY

Nation name: The Republic of the Twin Worlds
Homeworld: Capitol World is Artissa
Government system: Constitutional Republic
Main ideology: Liberal Democratic Solcialist
Level of freedom: All are free but criminals, which work in sci-fi Chain Gangs
Military description: The Twin Military is split into 3 sections. The Twin Navy, Twin Army, and Twin Special Forces.
Twin Navy: The Leviathan Class is a massive ship used as the Capital Ship of the Twin navy. Its name is the Arat-Yat, and is the largest ship in the entire Navy. Much smaller Corvets dot the Navy and are used as support cruisers and head smaller fleets. The standard fighters are the most commonly found in the Navy. This is the standard version, but some are outfitted for stealth, and bomber and intercept variants are also present.
Twin Army: The army is the Military Police, Infantry, and other such ground-based troops. The average troop looks like this.
Twin Special Forces: The special forces are the most advanced troops in the Military. Some are pilots, spies, and etc. with them occupying all kinds of positions. No one knows who is in the Special Forces but those in it, and they take on jobs and tasks above the clearance of normal soldiers and crewmen.
Economy: The economy is heavily based on the manufacturing of military and commercial goods. Due to them being neutral, they also supply official convoy escorts for those that are willing to pay the government for it, and special forces units are dispatched to secure transports. Along with this, they mine a lot of natural resources from the underwater caves on Gornun and grow underwater crops in the vast oceans of both worlds.
GLORIOUS LAND (If the military seems too bare, and you want it more flushed, lemme know!)

Name: Zet Dukal
Age: 29 Earth Years
Gender: Male
Species: Artias
Nationality/Allegiance: Oneself, but partial to the Republic of the Twin Worlds
Physical Appearance: Zet stands at 6'8 feet tall, with a skin of a marble white. He is toned and muscular from years of military training and has a few minor scars from his time in the military. He has reddish-brown eyes and wears what seems like a basic suit of combat armor with the red cloaks seen above wrapped around him in their respective positions, with his head showing.
Identifying Marks: Freckles on the body, Red Eyes, Tattoo of the Republics Flag on his upper left shoulder.

---

Skills: Skilled in Marksmanship and ranged combat as a whole, agile by the standards of his race, intelligent, military training.
Personality: Laidback, Charismatic, Short-Tempered, Sarcastic
Weaknesses: Melee combat, physically weaker than a majority of races, sensitive to radiation
Likes/dislikes: Likes: Company of others, other cultures, shopping. Dislikes: Solo Missions, Ignorance, The Color Yellow
Interests: Cartography, Weapons building
Fears: Death, Psionics, Rodents

---

Bio: Born on the Artais Homeworld of Artissa, Zet was brought up in a family almost ferociously loyal to the Republic. His father was a ranking officer in the military, while his mother was a diplomat sent to improve relations with the Ger'an. He was raised to respect the races of the galaxy, while also placing loyalty on the Republic among all else. However, something about the Republican Propaganda never sat right with him. Amongst his family, he was the one always in trouble, causing mayhem and rebelling against his parents. In an attempt to strengthen himself, he enlisted in the Military and due to his natural marksmanship ability became a member of the Special Forces, hence the tattoo on his shoulder. After some years doing jobs for the Republic, he resigned, though he technically still retains the rank of what would be a Sergeant First Class by human standards of ranking. He now has set out in his ship, traveling the galaxy in search for a greater purpose, and mainly some pocket change.
Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: -Data Expunged-
RP Sample: See Sig
CAPTAIN TO ENTERPRISE

Name: Fire of the Venerated
Make and model: C945 Kiribash Fighter
Length, Width, Height: 10x15x10.5 Meters
Weapons and Shielding: 2 Millitary Grade Fighter Turrets, 1 bombing port with 4 bombs, medium level shielding
Propulsion: Warp Drives and Deep Space Thrusters
Cargo capacity: 35.5k pounds
Seats: 4
Special Features: Enhanced Scanners, Light Stealth capabilities
ALL I ASK IS A TALL SHIP

[Rupudska]

Will look over apps in detail once I get to a proper computer, but everything looks good so far.

[Utceforp]

Tag, gonna make a race of primitive warlike cave-dwelling insectoids.

[Utceforp]

WIP apps

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

Planet Name: Nerak
Atmosphere: Devoid of oxygen, primarily consists of nitrogen, carbon dioxide and methane
Size and Mass: Approximately 5,200 km in diameter, approximately 4.86 x 10^23 kg in mass.
Axial Tilt, Orbital Distance, and Number (for example, Earth would be 23.5 degrees, 149.6 million km, and 3rd planet)
Geography and Climate:
Culture and History: (Optional but recommended)
BIG OL' BALL (DO NO REMOVE)

Species Name: Teshtaran
Scientific Name: Pseudoacrididae myrmex
Homeworld: Nerak
Natural lifespan: Approximately 60 years
Physical description: The Teshtaran are amphibious methanogenic humanoids, possessing two legs and four arms and standing between seven and nine feet tall. Their upper arms extend to their knees and possess six fingers arranged in a radial pattern. Their secondary arms are located underneath their primary ones and are identical aside from being only about half as long. Their body ranges from a light greenish-brown to bone white in colour. They do not possess eyes, and rely on sensing heat, smell and hearing to navigate. Most of their head is actually a hollow cavity similar to the bill of a Hadrosaur, the sound of which is emitted through the six eye-like pores on their face, producing both loud noises useful for alerting fellow Teshtaran and intimidating enemies, and a haunting and alien melody used in Teshtaran art and oral tradition. Teshtaran have long, thin teeth designed for catching fish.

Teshtaran are by nature piscivores (fish-eating carnivores) that developed in and primarily inhabit dark caves, with the occasional once-in-a-generation foray into the outside world in order to claim new caves once the previous cave is overcrowded. Teshtaran are genderless and reproduce asexually. Fertile Teshtaran release hundreds of millimeter-long larvae into stagnant water at a time, which grow into adolescent Teshtaran over the course of approximately two years, at which time they instinctively seek out their parent to be raised by them. (If released into water that holds other life the majority of Teshtaran larvae die from predation, while if released into sterile water the majority of Teshtaran larvae die from starvation or being cannibalized by larger larvae.)

Teshtaran are naturally quarrelsome, an adaptation against overpopulation in their cramped cave habitats. Large, claustrophobic crowds trigger chemical responses in their body characterized by increased heart rate, symptoms of anxiety, massively increased levels of serotonin and adrenaline, highly reduced inhibitions, irritability and intense pain behind their auditory pores due to the swelling of hormone glands, and the loss of a sex drive. Large, overcrowded Teshtaran caves thus tend to reduce their own populations to safe levels through bloody, irrational infighting, preventing famine from wiping them out entirely. As a result, in both purely Teshtaran and in multispecies societies, Teshtaran tend to be loners by choice. Additionally, Teshtaran societies are generally highly militaristic and tribalistic as a result of these aggressive compulsions.
Culture and History: (Optional but recommended)
CONSIDERED A DELICACY (DO NOT REMOVE)

[Rupudska]

Now see, that's a very original species idea.

[Shadowwell]

Unless i make a better one, This may be my characters ship:

While the generator i linked to before is neat, some other rpers pointed me to a program taht lets you create your own ships adn things.

The Lizards are mammalphobes, but si there anything more to the snail guys other than they are hivemind psionics?

i want to contribute a bit before i put up my stuff.

[Rupudska]

Unless i make a better one, This may be my characters ship:

(Image)

While the generator i linked to before is neat, some other rpers pointed me to a program taht lets you create your own ships adn things.

Gesundheit, but really that's neat. Got a link?

The Lizards are mammalphobes, but si there anything more to the snail guys other than they are hivemind psionics?

i want to contribute a bit before i put up my stuff.

The Tarkellians use a mix of bioengineering and regular engineering with a preference for the former. The devices they use to get individuals from other species into the hive mind, for example, is bioengineered.

They're also coolly smug about their sense of superiority, at least the ones with a shred of individuality.

[Gerdon Laughis]

-snip-

Im just wondering, does my stuff look alright?

[Rupudska]

-snip-

Im just wondering, does my stuff look alright?

Mostly, yes, though it's a bit thin.

[Shadowwell]

Unless i make a better one, This may be my characters ship:

(Image)

While the generator i linked to before is neat, some other rpers pointed me to a program taht lets you create your own ships adn things.

Gesundheit, but really that's neat. Got a link?

i want to contribute a bit before i put up my stuff.

The Tarkellians use a mix of bioengineering and regular engineering with a preference for the former. The devices they use to get individuals from other species into the hive mind, for example, is bioengineered.

They're also coolly smug about their sense of superiority, at least the ones with a shred of individuality.

Are the Tarkellians, bipeds or still generally sluglike, just bigger?

Link to the tutorial for that program here: viewtopic.php?f=23&t=389445

The tutorial give links to the 3 versions of it that are used by some on NS.

[Rupudska]

Gesundheit, but really that's neat. Got a link?



The Tarkellians use a mix of bioengineering and regular engineering with a preference for the former. The devices they use to get individuals from other species into the hive mind, for example, is bioengineered.

They're also coolly smug about their sense of superiority, at least the ones with a shred of individuality.

Are the Tarkellians, bipeds or still generally sluglike, just bigger?

Link to the tutorial for that program here: viewtopic.php?f=23&t=389445

The tutorial give links to the 3 versions of it that are used by some on NS.

They're more snail-like, and while they aren't bipedal they can 'hop' in emergencies, and move themselves telekinetically.

And thanks, I'll add it to the OP once I get the chance.

[Backatri]

Character:

Name: Jebidiah Grimly, M. D.
Age: 30 Earth Years
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Nationality Allegiance:
Physical Appearance: Although attempting to give off the air of not caring, he appears well kept, combing his hair and keeping it short. Even his full beard is kept trim and 'hip'. He has ice blue eyes, and his skin has the color tones of under cooked pancakes. Although just thirty, the stress of pleasing his parents and keeping up with their expectations has aged him, giving him frown lines.

In terms of fashion, he tends to replicate a seafarer look, wearing a woolen turtle neck sweater and an under shirt. He wears mostly black pants, but his Sweaters are flamboyant, often sporting colors like orange or yellow. Whenever it is too warm to look like a pirate, he generally wears his undershirts.
Identifying Marks: 'Futurum Maturum Captivitatis' ring on left middle finger. The ring is gold, but it lacks any shine owing to years of scratches. The inscription is on the inside. Although he purchased it at a flea market, he treasures it and it is arguably his most valuable possession (to him).
Skills: Leadership, Charisma, has the future equivalent of a Medical Doctorate, learns quickly, wilderness survival, knife-fighting, beam-weapons.
Weaknesses: as evidenced by age, is naive, space combat(specifically accuracy, losing his sense of depth and location quickly within the void), hardheaded, spiteful, romantic, suffers from space-sickness.
Likes: healing the sick, being a spaceship captain
Dislikes: Fatigue, total isolation, big cities for more that a few days
Interests: Space, adventure, medicine
Fears: That his parents are right, death, and failure

Biography:Jebidiah was born to a well-off family, on the world of Violet, a world geared mostly towards farming for the Kingdom of Arcadia, leaving very educated or even wealthy families. Speaking of which, his family pressured him to follow a tradition of being a doctor or a scholar. Eventually, their heavy-handedness in this wish led Jebidiah to grow angry and spiteful, longing more and more to control his life and be free. Despite a lack of a military tradition in his family, he joined up with the Violet Militia to fund his education, and to subtly rebel against his family. He was a fairly normal soldier, following orders and not piping up. He left the service with the equivalent rank of Private First Class, honorably discharged after a year of service.

Following his service, he went to college on Violet, the planet's size suffocating him, forcing him to be near his family, leaving no escape, as well as encouraging him to run for the stars. he took his father's recommendation and earned the equivalent of a MD, specializing in infectious disease. His family placed a lot of pressure on him to succeed and to flourish as a doctor. However, the stress of pleasing his family and doing something he truly did not want to do got to him, and after a nasty fight with his family, he took his meager savings and made out for Thrawn B7 to cut loose, explore, and spite his parents, after practicing medicine for hardly a year. He's got a very 'loose canon' attitude, often proving stubborn and obtrusive. Along the way, he learned that he suffers from severe space sickness, inspiring him to purchase a stable tugboat.

After reaching Thrawn B7, he purchased the ancient rust-bucket Santiago, intending to travel the galaxy, before he received a message requesting his assistance on the escort mission. Now, he participates, but only for the financial reward that he can flaunt on the face of everyone back at home.
However, he has no clue as to how spaceships work, hiring crew that can teach him, making him a captain in name only. Still his crew enjoys it when he listens to them, so they get along well, and the ship functions well. In a dock at least. The escort mission will be Jebidiah's first outing as a captain, and his first officer will be teaching him the ropes.
Reason for Being on Thrawn B7: purchasing the 18 meter Space Tugboat Santiago, fixing it up, and starting anew. He was called to action as a support ship for the escort mission, and got a grant to fix and arm his dependable little tugboat.

His Ship:

The Santiago

Length: 18 Meters
Ship Type: A. H. Marsh Shipyards Desmond Class Tugboat
Color Scheme/Visual Description: Rust along most edges, missile pods and turrets facing forwards. Highly visible yellow paint scheme to represent its status as a support vessel.
Engines: Union Steelworks FTL-780 High-Power Engines
Crew: 10 Total, 2 officers, 4 engineers and support staff, and 4 able bodied crew
Weapons 6 Hi-Tech Hunter Killer Missiles, 2 laser turrets (essentially small arms though, don't expect them to destroy anything other that asteroids)
General Facts: The Santiago is an aged rust-bucket, only now returning to service with a large grant. Other than the Captain, the crew is experienced, and well versed with space travel.

RP Example: The Grand Imperial Alliance RP region
More details to come, massive WIP.