Star Wars: Outlaws
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"friend-or-foe protocols are operating within tolerable limits."sage42 said:
He notices a squat little droid and follows it into an alley. Telltale sounds of wreckage and "WWWWWOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW!!!!" follow.
Name: Vashma Zess
Age: 126
Gender: Male
Species: Farghul
Appearance: Vashma is a fairly average looking Farghul; he is 1.8 meters tall, has well-kept dark brown fur, a slight but muscular build and a prehensile tail. He has long hair a shade darker than his fur which is usually tied back, and a short well-kept beard. He usually wears a baggy pair of Tomuon cloth pants tucked into knee high boots, with a singlet and vest. At his waste he wears a red Shimmer Silk sash and a utility belt.
Profession: Combat/thievery/general sneakiness/medic (but only because it?s the best we?ve got)
Equipment: Vashma has a saying, ?Always be prepared for anything and everything, especially if you intend on some thievery.? and as such carries quite a bit with him. He has his custom made collapsing double-sided staff modified to have electrified tips able to be set to shock, stun, or kill. His S-5 heavy blaster pistol, spare darts and liquid cable reservoirs, a normal combat knife, a C1 personal comlink, an A99 aquata breather, and spare oxygen canisters, two smoke grenades, his flash goggles, basic medical supplies, and a role of Plastoid tape.
Skills: Being around for 126 years you pick up a lot of diverse skills and as such Vashma is a bit of a jack-of-all-trades but his natural guile means he is an expert thief and excellent at stealth, in addition to this he has had years of close combat training studying many different races martial arts, he?s not a bad shot with a blaster either and his dabbling in drugs, chems and the life of a republic soldier have given him a bit of medical experience. He is also fluent speaker of Galactic basic, Bocce, High Galactic, Ryl and has a working knowledge of Mando'a, Shyriiwook and Binary.
Biography: I?ve lived for 126 years that?s not something you go over in one sitting so I?ll give you the abridged version. I was born on Farrfin too an average Farghul family, my father was a big wig in the local pickpocket ring, my mother ran sabacc scams and as a young man I learned all the skills one needs to survive, pickpocketing, scamming, lying, cheating and stealing, all the things a good Farghul boy learns. When I was twenty I had saved up more than enough credits to venture off world, I travelled around for a while pulling scams on the unwary and eventually encountered some Echani, I was awed by their marital arts expertise and instead of trying to make a fortune I had a new goal.
For the next 90 years or so I travelled around trying to find an learn from any and every race that had a martial arts tradition, I learned from Echani, Mandalorians, Wookies, Sakiyans and races I didn?t even know the name of, pretty much anyone who was teaching, I even learned a thing or two from a couple of Jedi after helping in a major Republic operation in the Clone war. During this time I took pretty much any job I could, bounty hunter, scout, surveyor, scavenger, body guard, thief for hire, soldier, medic, mercenary and picked up many a skill, I made fortunes, lost them, made friends and even more enemies but eventually I found myself aboard the Kepla, a rather ugly ship but functional and with plenty of excitement to be had.
Notes: Vashma uses a mild euphoric drug called Marcan Herb.
Age: 126
Gender: Male
Species: Farghul
Appearance: Vashma is a fairly average looking Farghul; he is 1.8 meters tall, has well-kept dark brown fur, a slight but muscular build and a prehensile tail. He has long hair a shade darker than his fur which is usually tied back, and a short well-kept beard. He usually wears a baggy pair of Tomuon cloth pants tucked into knee high boots, with a singlet and vest. At his waste he wears a red Shimmer Silk sash and a utility belt.
Profession: Combat/thievery/general sneakiness/medic (but only because it?s the best we?ve got)
Equipment: Vashma has a saying, ?Always be prepared for anything and everything, especially if you intend on some thievery.? and as such carries quite a bit with him. He has his custom made collapsing double-sided staff modified to have electrified tips able to be set to shock, stun, or kill. His S-5 heavy blaster pistol, spare darts and liquid cable reservoirs, a normal combat knife, a C1 personal comlink, an A99 aquata breather, and spare oxygen canisters, two smoke grenades, his flash goggles, basic medical supplies, and a role of Plastoid tape.
Skills: Being around for 126 years you pick up a lot of diverse skills and as such Vashma is a bit of a jack-of-all-trades but his natural guile means he is an expert thief and excellent at stealth, in addition to this he has had years of close combat training studying many different races martial arts, he?s not a bad shot with a blaster either and his dabbling in drugs, chems and the life of a republic soldier have given him a bit of medical experience. He is also fluent speaker of Galactic basic, Bocce, High Galactic, Ryl and has a working knowledge of Mando'a, Shyriiwook and Binary.
Biography: I?ve lived for 126 years that?s not something you go over in one sitting so I?ll give you the abridged version. I was born on Farrfin too an average Farghul family, my father was a big wig in the local pickpocket ring, my mother ran sabacc scams and as a young man I learned all the skills one needs to survive, pickpocketing, scamming, lying, cheating and stealing, all the things a good Farghul boy learns. When I was twenty I had saved up more than enough credits to venture off world, I travelled around for a while pulling scams on the unwary and eventually encountered some Echani, I was awed by their marital arts expertise and instead of trying to make a fortune I had a new goal.
For the next 90 years or so I travelled around trying to find an learn from any and every race that had a martial arts tradition, I learned from Echani, Mandalorians, Wookies, Sakiyans and races I didn?t even know the name of, pretty much anyone who was teaching, I even learned a thing or two from a couple of Jedi after helping in a major Republic operation in the Clone war. During this time I took pretty much any job I could, bounty hunter, scout, surveyor, scavenger, body guard, thief for hire, soldier, medic, mercenary and picked up many a skill, I made fortunes, lost them, made friends and even more enemies but eventually I found myself aboard the Kepla, a rather ugly ship but functional and with plenty of excitement to be had.
Notes: Vashma uses a mild euphoric drug called Marcan Herb.
Hope this is good, if anything needs changing just say.
Name: Aiko
Age: 1
Gender: Aesexual, female default
Species: Droid
Occupation: Infiltration / Assassin Droid
Appearance:
Default body is a human woman in her early twenties. Her voice was cool and even, with no discernible accent.
Skills:
Aiko is an assassin droid, developed by Holowan Laboratories. Unlike droids that used metallic armor or synthetic tissue over an endoskeleton, Aiko's internal structure is coated with nanomorphic material, stored in small reservoirs, that allows the machine to manipulate it's physical form and take on the appearance of another person.
The machine is directed by a Neural Net Microprocessor within the cranial case. It is programmed with highly adaptive autonomous thought, with behavioral programs that allowed her to perform functions needed to pass for a biological. As part of its internal databases, Aiko is loaded with tactical assessment data, combat, espionage and assassination techniques, with detailed files on human anatomy and physiology so as to make it a more efficient killer. It is also equipped with files related to computer systems, navigation, engineering, an extensive language database, and emergency medical training, enough that she can perform a heart bypass using household materials.
The internal structure is a chassis constructed with high-strength alloys with thousands of micro-gyros embedded in the joints for balance. Strong and agile, the droid is capable of moving its joints in ways that would be impossible for any human. The frame is capable of withstanding most small arms fire and is able to survive being set on fire and being covered in liquid nitrogen with only minimal damage. Aiko's eyes hid advanced sensors, providing her with infrared, light-amplifying and telescopic vision. When using both eyes to track two different targets moving in different directions, depth perception is created artificially by a computer-generated off-angle ghost image. She also had an integrated, encrypted comlink for secure communications. Vocals enable it to synthesize any speech pattern.
Equipment:
Aiko's arms contain energy cutters, and is capable of forming stabbing, slashing weapons from nanomorphic material. She is generally issued with a blaster carbine or blaster rifle. However, it is programmed to be able to use all documented weaponry. Aiko is, for example, proficient in the use of the Flamethrower, Pulse cannon, electromagnetic projectile launcher, Sonic stunner, Paralysis cord, Poison gas, thermal detonators, and simple weapons such as swords and spears.
Personality and History:
Assassin droids were banned even before the Empire came to power, although many beings continued to use them. The droid programmers at Holowan Laboratories developed the Aiko model as part of an Imperial contract, possibly with assistance of criminal organizations. She eventually came into the possession of the Rebels and New Republic. Though often terse, she had a sense of playfulness in interacting with others, tempering her lethality during a mission.
Age: 1
Gender: Aesexual, female default
Species: Droid
Occupation: Infiltration / Assassin Droid
Appearance:
Default body is a human woman in her early twenties. Her voice was cool and even, with no discernible accent.
Skills:
Aiko is an assassin droid, developed by Holowan Laboratories. Unlike droids that used metallic armor or synthetic tissue over an endoskeleton, Aiko's internal structure is coated with nanomorphic material, stored in small reservoirs, that allows the machine to manipulate it's physical form and take on the appearance of another person.
The machine is directed by a Neural Net Microprocessor within the cranial case. It is programmed with highly adaptive autonomous thought, with behavioral programs that allowed her to perform functions needed to pass for a biological. As part of its internal databases, Aiko is loaded with tactical assessment data, combat, espionage and assassination techniques, with detailed files on human anatomy and physiology so as to make it a more efficient killer. It is also equipped with files related to computer systems, navigation, engineering, an extensive language database, and emergency medical training, enough that she can perform a heart bypass using household materials.
The internal structure is a chassis constructed with high-strength alloys with thousands of micro-gyros embedded in the joints for balance. Strong and agile, the droid is capable of moving its joints in ways that would be impossible for any human. The frame is capable of withstanding most small arms fire and is able to survive being set on fire and being covered in liquid nitrogen with only minimal damage. Aiko's eyes hid advanced sensors, providing her with infrared, light-amplifying and telescopic vision. When using both eyes to track two different targets moving in different directions, depth perception is created artificially by a computer-generated off-angle ghost image. She also had an integrated, encrypted comlink for secure communications. Vocals enable it to synthesize any speech pattern.
Equipment:
Aiko's arms contain energy cutters, and is capable of forming stabbing, slashing weapons from nanomorphic material. She is generally issued with a blaster carbine or blaster rifle. However, it is programmed to be able to use all documented weaponry. Aiko is, for example, proficient in the use of the Flamethrower, Pulse cannon, electromagnetic projectile launcher, Sonic stunner, Paralysis cord, Poison gas, thermal detonators, and simple weapons such as swords and spears.
Personality and History:
Assassin droids were banned even before the Empire came to power, although many beings continued to use them. The droid programmers at Holowan Laboratories developed the Aiko model as part of an Imperial contract, possibly with assistance of criminal organizations. She eventually came into the possession of the Rebels and New Republic. Though often terse, she had a sense of playfulness in interacting with others, tempering her lethality during a mission.
I like the idea of a much more experienced character, but could he have a more...specific task on the ship? Could his skills in medicine be more substantial, perhaps? I only ask cause I'm finding it hard to place him on the ship, and I would like more variety than the bunch of brutes (generally) we're getting.CaptainHook69 said:
I can sympathize with you for putting this character up, seeing as how she didn't have a chance to show her stuff in the last SW RP. However, this character hits hard droid cap, and might not get in (depending on how the roster forms in my head). Along with that, the history still reflects what happens to her beyond the time the RP is in, and doesn't say how she got into the Kepla's crew.Asclepion said:
I will say, I like the idea of someone skilled at infiltration. Perhaps make the character a changeling instead of a droid?
Welcome indeed. I'm sure you've gotten the Official welcome somewhere, or will from someone who remembers the whole thing, so the truncated version for now. Welcome to The Escapist; it's better here, so long as you stay out of the basement.KR4U55 said:
I'm still accepting sheet, yes. Either one of your ideas would fit the crew, so just make whatever you're most invested in. Welcome to the forums.KR4U55 said:
Sorry, it's been a crazy weekend, I've been more busy than at the actual week. Here, my super special awesome sniper. He's not a hardened veteran, but a snarky dude who's looking for a job as a spacer.
Name: Frann'Ko
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Species: Twi'lek/human natural hybrid
Appearance: Pretty normal looking except for 2 things: The small protuberations on his forehead are practically non-existant and his skin tone is very human caucasian-like with a shade of orange. He wears headwrapping like females and and ammo belt on his chest hidden by a cloak. I should have a sketch one of these days
Profession: Sniper and scout.
Equipment: A modified Blastech DLT-20A with interchangeable barrel to work as a sniper. His field equipment generally includes militar rations, different cells (ion, plasma, acid), explosives, tracking devices and survival kits in his backpack, concealed under a cloak. He also has a hold-out blaster and a small vibroblade in his knuckle just in case.
Skills: Not force sensitive. To quote HK-47, he can actually make the 100 km shot to the knees. He have used long range artillery and custom ion snipers to take mechs and such from further. He's no expert in demolitions but he can strap explosive charges and count backwards. Last, but not least, he's an expert at guerrilla fight and recon., with some knowledge of first aid and tracking.
Biography: The following narration will be in-character:
"So, what're you looking for, capt'n? My story? Hah, it's not that good, but since you paid the drinks, why not? Lets see, I'm...what's the word...a bastard, the fatherless kind I mean. I was born on Sleheyron as, guess it, a slave. I served a ball of fat commonly known there as Thero the Hutt, small time, sadistic monster. I served that breathing butt for 13 years until mom died. The same night I stole a thermal detonator from a bounty hunter, hid in his meal and run.
Almost inmediatly I was "recruited" into Sleheyron's Resistance, who by the way were doomed from the start, but had nice equipment. Their leader Ranna...she was kinda my mentor, I'm pretty sure she liked me in her own psycothic way. She taught me everything I know. Demolitions, survival...killing...I mean I already knew how to do that, but only she could slip a heat localization device inside a palace and use a custom sniper to blow the head of a hutt through the wall, and she taught to me to do the same. It was a sad day when a conglomerate of those gangsters butchered all the movement. I survived the masacre hiding under corpses.
After that I escaped the planet. I was...17 I think. That means I've spent the last 10 years doing odd jobs. Bartender, duelist, mercenary, assassin..."Reconnaissance Expert Consoultant", heh, for a military job. Saved a lot of green recruits of dying of fever and wild animals that time. So yeah, it's been a bumpy ride. Yeah, that's about it, the abridged version anyways. Do I match your profile capt'n?"
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Species: Twi'lek/human natural hybrid
Appearance: Pretty normal looking except for 2 things: The small protuberations on his forehead are practically non-existant and his skin tone is very human caucasian-like with a shade of orange. He wears headwrapping like females and and ammo belt on his chest hidden by a cloak. I should have a sketch one of these days
Profession: Sniper and scout.
Equipment: A modified Blastech DLT-20A with interchangeable barrel to work as a sniper. His field equipment generally includes militar rations, different cells (ion, plasma, acid), explosives, tracking devices and survival kits in his backpack, concealed under a cloak. He also has a hold-out blaster and a small vibroblade in his knuckle just in case.
Skills: Not force sensitive. To quote HK-47, he can actually make the 100 km shot to the knees. He have used long range artillery and custom ion snipers to take mechs and such from further. He's no expert in demolitions but he can strap explosive charges and count backwards. Last, but not least, he's an expert at guerrilla fight and recon., with some knowledge of first aid and tracking.
Biography: The following narration will be in-character:
"So, what're you looking for, capt'n? My story? Hah, it's not that good, but since you paid the drinks, why not? Lets see, I'm...what's the word...a bastard, the fatherless kind I mean. I was born on Sleheyron as, guess it, a slave. I served a ball of fat commonly known there as Thero the Hutt, small time, sadistic monster. I served that breathing butt for 13 years until mom died. The same night I stole a thermal detonator from a bounty hunter, hid in his meal and run.
Almost inmediatly I was "recruited" into Sleheyron's Resistance, who by the way were doomed from the start, but had nice equipment. Their leader Ranna...she was kinda my mentor, I'm pretty sure she liked me in her own psycothic way. She taught me everything I know. Demolitions, survival...killing...I mean I already knew how to do that, but only she could slip a heat localization device inside a palace and use a custom sniper to blow the head of a hutt through the wall, and she taught to me to do the same. It was a sad day when a conglomerate of those gangsters butchered all the movement. I survived the masacre hiding under corpses.
After that I escaped the planet. I was...17 I think. That means I've spent the last 10 years doing odd jobs. Bartender, duelist, mercenary, assassin..."Reconnaissance Expert Consoultant", heh, for a military job. Saved a lot of green recruits of dying of fever and wild animals that time. So yeah, it's been a bumpy ride. Yeah, that's about it, the abridged version anyways. Do I match your profile capt'n?"
Name: Zanoo Suvik
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Species: Rodian
Appearance: Green mostly. Okay okay. Zanoo isn't especially remarkable in appearance for a rodian. He wears unremarkable and worn standard spacer clothing that looks like it was either scavenged or picked up very cheaply, which is correct on both counts. The only notable piece of clothing he wears is a red scarf that although quite dirty, looks as though it may have been worth quite a bit before he got his hands on it, the material looking to be considerably finer than the rest of his mismatched ensemble. The only other thing of particular note about his appearance is a huttese slave tattoo on his upper left arm, but this is usually covered by his clothing, so it's unlikely many of the crew bar the captain have seen it.
Profession: Chemist/Cook
Equipment: Chem kit, assorted stims, datapad, vibroknife, blaster pistol.
Skills: Fluent in Rodian and Huttese, competent in Basic, capable of reading and understanding it, although speaks it in a broken fashion as he's not as accustomed to using it. Very good with chemicals and more than capable of making stims given the materials, also surprisingly good at cooking.
Biography: Zanoo was born a slave in hutt space. Once old enough to work in the narcotic factories of his hutt masters, it was soon discovered that Zanoo was something of a savant when it came to formulas, when it was noticed he was deviating from the instructions given to them for the manufacture of the batch of drugs he was working on. Zanoo's mixture, when inspected by the hutt's overseers (while Zanoo was recieving a beating for the disobedience, was discovered to be an improvement on the original recipe in various little ways. This resulted in his beating to be paused until his hutt master arrived when the improvements of the anomolous batch were reported to him. When asked by his master why he had dared to defy his master, the rodian replied. "Because I could do better. Why have good, when you can have better?" Such an answer amused his master enough to elevate him to work alongside those in charge of devising new mixtures for the hutts drug markets. It was work he enjoyed much more than the drudgery and frustration of mixing what he saw as incorrect or substandard formulas, but there was still the odd beating and he was still property confined to a huttese drug lab. Still, though his curiousity wondered about the world beyond the cold durasteel walls and the smells of chemicals, he was happy enough with his formulas and chemicals to not make a fuss, maintaining a cheerful demeanor. Except for the beatings. Those he could do without.
Freedom came in an unexpected fashion one day, as the lab and factory was bombarded during one of the many skirmishs between hutt clans, crimelords mercernary crews and Lysa Estor's consortium. The factory went first, the many vats of chemicals igniting and turning much of the factory floor and the workers therein into so much burning chemical slurry.
Those in the development labs, Zanoo included, were luckier, having enough time to make it to the shuttle bay before the fires spread to the dev. labs and managed to flee off world in the aftermath of the attack while those involved were still too busy cleaning each other up. He did hear some of the hutt's forces screaming over the shuttle coms about who they were up against before the shuttle was out of range though. He made a point to remember that.
After his escape, Zanoo found that his obsession with formulae also afforded him much enjoyment in preparing recipes and made most of his money working in cantinas, preparing food and mixing drinks, strange as the idea of a rodian in the kitchen might sound. That said though, many don't care what race the person behind the cantina bar is, as long as they get their damn drink.
One such night in a cantina somewhere, he heard tell that a certain starship captain was among the crowd. This was excellent news for Zanoo, as he'd also heard tell her organisation had fallen apart. Upon finding her, he offered her his most sincere thanks for his freedom. and offered his services as a chemist..or a cook aboard her ship if she'd have him.
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Species: Rodian
Appearance: Green mostly. Okay okay. Zanoo isn't especially remarkable in appearance for a rodian. He wears unremarkable and worn standard spacer clothing that looks like it was either scavenged or picked up very cheaply, which is correct on both counts. The only notable piece of clothing he wears is a red scarf that although quite dirty, looks as though it may have been worth quite a bit before he got his hands on it, the material looking to be considerably finer than the rest of his mismatched ensemble. The only other thing of particular note about his appearance is a huttese slave tattoo on his upper left arm, but this is usually covered by his clothing, so it's unlikely many of the crew bar the captain have seen it.
Profession: Chemist/Cook
Equipment: Chem kit, assorted stims, datapad, vibroknife, blaster pistol.
Skills: Fluent in Rodian and Huttese, competent in Basic, capable of reading and understanding it, although speaks it in a broken fashion as he's not as accustomed to using it. Very good with chemicals and more than capable of making stims given the materials, also surprisingly good at cooking.
Biography: Zanoo was born a slave in hutt space. Once old enough to work in the narcotic factories of his hutt masters, it was soon discovered that Zanoo was something of a savant when it came to formulas, when it was noticed he was deviating from the instructions given to them for the manufacture of the batch of drugs he was working on. Zanoo's mixture, when inspected by the hutt's overseers (while Zanoo was recieving a beating for the disobedience, was discovered to be an improvement on the original recipe in various little ways. This resulted in his beating to be paused until his hutt master arrived when the improvements of the anomolous batch were reported to him. When asked by his master why he had dared to defy his master, the rodian replied. "Because I could do better. Why have good, when you can have better?" Such an answer amused his master enough to elevate him to work alongside those in charge of devising new mixtures for the hutts drug markets. It was work he enjoyed much more than the drudgery and frustration of mixing what he saw as incorrect or substandard formulas, but there was still the odd beating and he was still property confined to a huttese drug lab. Still, though his curiousity wondered about the world beyond the cold durasteel walls and the smells of chemicals, he was happy enough with his formulas and chemicals to not make a fuss, maintaining a cheerful demeanor. Except for the beatings. Those he could do without.
Freedom came in an unexpected fashion one day, as the lab and factory was bombarded during one of the many skirmishs between hutt clans, crimelords mercernary crews and Lysa Estor's consortium. The factory went first, the many vats of chemicals igniting and turning much of the factory floor and the workers therein into so much burning chemical slurry.
Those in the development labs, Zanoo included, were luckier, having enough time to make it to the shuttle bay before the fires spread to the dev. labs and managed to flee off world in the aftermath of the attack while those involved were still too busy cleaning each other up. He did hear some of the hutt's forces screaming over the shuttle coms about who they were up against before the shuttle was out of range though. He made a point to remember that.
After his escape, Zanoo found that his obsession with formulae also afforded him much enjoyment in preparing recipes and made most of his money working in cantinas, preparing food and mixing drinks, strange as the idea of a rodian in the kitchen might sound. That said though, many don't care what race the person behind the cantina bar is, as long as they get their damn drink.
One such night in a cantina somewhere, he heard tell that a certain starship captain was among the crowd. This was excellent news for Zanoo, as he'd also heard tell her organisation had fallen apart. Upon finding her, he offered her his most sincere thanks for his freedom. and offered his services as a chemist..or a cook aboard her ship if she'd have him.
Name: Salvalerius "Sally" "Salva" Druborodinwilpher
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Species: Squib
Appearance:
Has violet fur with tinges of blue on the ears. Stands at one meter in height. Large, brown, oval shaped eyes. Overall Salva's facial features are canine in appearance and unimposing with the exception of his rows of sharpened teeth. His appearance, like most Squib is considered quite cute and Salva's gender is hard to determine at first glance.
Clothing consists of a short-sleeved black shirt, black Magnum combat boots, a brown sheepskin bomber jacket, a faded grey field cap, yet refuses to wear any form of pants. Has a holster underneath the left side of his jacket for a simple blaster.
Profession: Merchant Trader, Contact dealer, Accountant, General administrator
Equipment:
Apart from a small Squib Tensor pistol under his jacket Salva also has various assortments of minor tools such as a Datapad to help with his administrative and contractual bureaucracy
Skills:
As part of the Squib species, Salva is inherently a natural haggler and trader with a large number of trade contacts around the galaxy. This assists the Captain of the Kelpa by providing valuable information on various trade dealings, smuggling contracts and always makes sure the Kelpa is on the better side of any deal, legal or illegal.
Salva is also an excellent tracker due to the Squibs coat which serves as a olfactory organ, able to pick up scents from afar and allows the Squab to see through a disguise or identifying a forgery of any object he rubs against his coat.
Salva is also skilled at appraising the worth of most goods in the galaxy
Salva is also very good with calculating numbers and currency exchange and so helps with general administration of the Kelpa.
Salva can speak a few Trade languages.
Owns a genuine trading permit from Imperial Trade and Commerce Authority
Biography:
As a member of the Squib Merchandising Consortium as all Squibs are upon birth Salva naturally began his career as a merchant among the many star ports of the galaxy. Proclaiming to be taught in the "Mystical martial arts of Squiby Combats and Transactions" Salva began a personal crusade upon the credits of countless port goers.
The crisis during the Clone wars did little to dampen the modest profits Salva was making, becoming completely consumed and enthralled by the quest and process of haggling for riches, gained not by the crude application of threats or violence, but the shrewdly negotiated contract. His willingness to trade with the separatists and the republic on equal ground allowed him to establish vast networks of profit from which all his partners benefited, but not nearly so much as he did.
As a whole the significance of the Clone wars almost a fairy tale as the war began, climaxed and ended all the while, Salva spent his days in local cantina, retelling tales with swaggering self-assurance about being able to bluff his way into the courts of kings, the bedchambers of princesses, lulling Kayrt Dragons to sleep and stealing their treasure hordes and haggling rancor. At the pinnacle of his wealth and power Salva earned a reputation as an honest trader but believed that deception was perfectly acceptable as long as he did not lie outright
The rise of the Empire was a different matter entirely as Salva began to chafe under the tight controls over trade and commerce by Imperial authorities and the marginalization of Squib merchants in comparison to Human Imperial traders. It took at least 5 years for Salva to navigate the vast web of bureaucracy and grease enough palms to be granted a permit to trade.
In the 15 years after the rise of the empire, Salva's mass of credits had become leaner as contract after contract was ripped from his grasp by scrupulous competitors with the backing of the Empire's mercantile state. The final blow was in the form of an Imperial officer who took particular insult to Salva's "It's not cheating if i didn't lie" trading philosophy till barely a single credit could be held to his name.
It was in this financial state that he was approached by the captain of the Kelpa. After a day and night of back and forth haggling, offering, counter-offering and a few rows of empty glasses a deal with struck. To this end, Salva is incredibly loyal to his newest business partner for rekindling his purpose of trade and for her offer of future "great Haggles" should he serve under her.
Age: 43
Gender: Male
Species: Squib
Appearance:
Has violet fur with tinges of blue on the ears. Stands at one meter in height. Large, brown, oval shaped eyes. Overall Salva's facial features are canine in appearance and unimposing with the exception of his rows of sharpened teeth. His appearance, like most Squib is considered quite cute and Salva's gender is hard to determine at first glance.
Clothing consists of a short-sleeved black shirt, black Magnum combat boots, a brown sheepskin bomber jacket, a faded grey field cap, yet refuses to wear any form of pants. Has a holster underneath the left side of his jacket for a simple blaster.
Profession: Merchant Trader, Contact dealer, Accountant, General administrator
Equipment:
Apart from a small Squib Tensor pistol under his jacket Salva also has various assortments of minor tools such as a Datapad to help with his administrative and contractual bureaucracy
Skills:
As part of the Squib species, Salva is inherently a natural haggler and trader with a large number of trade contacts around the galaxy. This assists the Captain of the Kelpa by providing valuable information on various trade dealings, smuggling contracts and always makes sure the Kelpa is on the better side of any deal, legal or illegal.
Salva is also an excellent tracker due to the Squibs coat which serves as a olfactory organ, able to pick up scents from afar and allows the Squab to see through a disguise or identifying a forgery of any object he rubs against his coat.
Salva is also skilled at appraising the worth of most goods in the galaxy
Salva is also very good with calculating numbers and currency exchange and so helps with general administration of the Kelpa.
Salva can speak a few Trade languages.
Owns a genuine trading permit from Imperial Trade and Commerce Authority
Biography:
As a member of the Squib Merchandising Consortium as all Squibs are upon birth Salva naturally began his career as a merchant among the many star ports of the galaxy. Proclaiming to be taught in the "Mystical martial arts of Squiby Combats and Transactions" Salva began a personal crusade upon the credits of countless port goers.
The crisis during the Clone wars did little to dampen the modest profits Salva was making, becoming completely consumed and enthralled by the quest and process of haggling for riches, gained not by the crude application of threats or violence, but the shrewdly negotiated contract. His willingness to trade with the separatists and the republic on equal ground allowed him to establish vast networks of profit from which all his partners benefited, but not nearly so much as he did.
As a whole the significance of the Clone wars almost a fairy tale as the war began, climaxed and ended all the while, Salva spent his days in local cantina, retelling tales with swaggering self-assurance about being able to bluff his way into the courts of kings, the bedchambers of princesses, lulling Kayrt Dragons to sleep and stealing their treasure hordes and haggling rancor. At the pinnacle of his wealth and power Salva earned a reputation as an honest trader but believed that deception was perfectly acceptable as long as he did not lie outright
The rise of the Empire was a different matter entirely as Salva began to chafe under the tight controls over trade and commerce by Imperial authorities and the marginalization of Squib merchants in comparison to Human Imperial traders. It took at least 5 years for Salva to navigate the vast web of bureaucracy and grease enough palms to be granted a permit to trade.
In the 15 years after the rise of the empire, Salva's mass of credits had become leaner as contract after contract was ripped from his grasp by scrupulous competitors with the backing of the Empire's mercantile state. The final blow was in the form of an Imperial officer who took particular insult to Salva's "It's not cheating if i didn't lie" trading philosophy till barely a single credit could be held to his name.
It was in this financial state that he was approached by the captain of the Kelpa. After a day and night of back and forth haggling, offering, counter-offering and a few rows of empty glasses a deal with struck. To this end, Salva is incredibly loyal to his newest business partner for rekindling his purpose of trade and for her offer of future "great Haggles" should he serve under her.
I now present to you the ragtag crew of the Kepla:
I apologize to everyone who made the effort to make these entertaining sheets above this post and didn't make it in. As I started working out the crew dynamic and how jobs will play out, I realized that it would just be too difficult to follow if I let everyone in.
I'll make a group for the crew right now and start the journey in just a couple of hours.
Name: Lysa Estor (alias: Lisa Darwell)
Age: 57
Gender: Female
Species: Human Cyborg
Appearance: Her red hair doesn't flow far past her shoulders, but is styled to cover several scars on the side of her head and neck. It also covers the plating around her right eye, also replaced with a mechanical duplicate. She wears a long, navy blue coat that reaches all the way to her ankles. Again, an attempt to hide her cybernetic parts. A glove usually covers her left hand, and her boots are always strung to the top, even when she's relaxing. Beneath the coat, she wears a white, puffed up blouse, tucked into a pair of blue jeans. Of course, she always has her trusty blaster tucked into a holster she hides at her side. Contrasting, she has a short viroblade displayed for all to see outside the coat.
Profession: Captain of the Kepla
Equipment: Aside from her cyborg enhancements, Lysa only carries her DL-44 blaster and virobalde on her person.
Skills: Her cyborg nature gives her stamina beyond her years, though it also creates and odd disparity between what has been "enhanced" and what hasn't. Like when she's typing, her left hand goes so fast it rattles the console, while her right hand is much slower and has long, deliberate movements. Regardless of this, she has retained her sharp tongue and skill as a crack negotiator.
Biography: Born on Corellia, Lysa grew up to find she had a knack for running underground operations. As the galaxy spiraled into the mess history remembers as the Clone Wars, Lysa had amassed a good sum of credits and had a galaxy-wide network of contacts. Though, she was always hindered by a large Hutt bounty on her head, a result of a botched operation that led to her flying under the radar with a ragtag band of misfits.
Eventually, after the Empire started to "blossom", an opportunity was provided. Using her fortune and her contacts, Lysa formed her own Consortium, wanting to give the Hutts a run for their money. What came after was a war in the shadows, with skirmishes on planets few people knew of, and fleets of mercenaries blowing each other up over planets run by crimelords. Surprisingly, Lysa's weaker Consortium was able to match the Hutts blow-for-blow, able to outwit their larger forces into ambushes where their numbers meant nothing.
However, this did not last, as a betrayal from within devastated Lysa and her organization. In a move of subterfuge that would've impressed Lysa had the play not been made against her, over half of her trusted contacts turned coat and fell in league with the traitor, who then tried to kill her.
In a daring escape that left her grievously injured, her first mate dead, and the rest of her closest allies scattered, Lysa decided that she wasn't out of the game just yet. Using what little she had left, Lysa had her body rebuilt and rescued a ship from the scrapyard for her use. The past few years, the captain has been picking up the pieces, trying to start over while her enemies think her dead.
Age: 57
Gender: Female
Species: Human Cyborg
Appearance: Her red hair doesn't flow far past her shoulders, but is styled to cover several scars on the side of her head and neck. It also covers the plating around her right eye, also replaced with a mechanical duplicate. She wears a long, navy blue coat that reaches all the way to her ankles. Again, an attempt to hide her cybernetic parts. A glove usually covers her left hand, and her boots are always strung to the top, even when she's relaxing. Beneath the coat, she wears a white, puffed up blouse, tucked into a pair of blue jeans. Of course, she always has her trusty blaster tucked into a holster she hides at her side. Contrasting, she has a short viroblade displayed for all to see outside the coat.
Profession: Captain of the Kepla
Equipment: Aside from her cyborg enhancements, Lysa only carries her DL-44 blaster and virobalde on her person.
Skills: Her cyborg nature gives her stamina beyond her years, though it also creates and odd disparity between what has been "enhanced" and what hasn't. Like when she's typing, her left hand goes so fast it rattles the console, while her right hand is much slower and has long, deliberate movements. Regardless of this, she has retained her sharp tongue and skill as a crack negotiator.
Biography: Born on Corellia, Lysa grew up to find she had a knack for running underground operations. As the galaxy spiraled into the mess history remembers as the Clone Wars, Lysa had amassed a good sum of credits and had a galaxy-wide network of contacts. Though, she was always hindered by a large Hutt bounty on her head, a result of a botched operation that led to her flying under the radar with a ragtag band of misfits.
Eventually, after the Empire started to "blossom", an opportunity was provided. Using her fortune and her contacts, Lysa formed her own Consortium, wanting to give the Hutts a run for their money. What came after was a war in the shadows, with skirmishes on planets few people knew of, and fleets of mercenaries blowing each other up over planets run by crimelords. Surprisingly, Lysa's weaker Consortium was able to match the Hutts blow-for-blow, able to outwit their larger forces into ambushes where their numbers meant nothing.
However, this did not last, as a betrayal from within devastated Lysa and her organization. In a move of subterfuge that would've impressed Lysa had the play not been made against her, over half of her trusted contacts turned coat and fell in league with the traitor, who then tried to kill her.
In a daring escape that left her grievously injured, her first mate dead, and the rest of her closest allies scattered, Lysa decided that she wasn't out of the game just yet. Using what little she had left, Lysa had her body rebuilt and rescued a ship from the scrapyard for her use. The past few years, the captain has been picking up the pieces, trying to start over while her enemies think her dead.
Name: Malak
Age: 45
Gender: Male
Species: Jawa
Appearance: Dark brown robes that cover up most of his body and face. Only thing visible within the hood is his golden eyes like all jawas. With a sash around his chest to his shoulder that has tons of extra parts within them and some of his tools.
Profession: Engineer
Equipment: Ion blaster to deal with droids during his stay at the sandcrawler.
Skills: Being a Jawa, he great at scavenging as well as repairing old droid bots. Able fine worthwhile things in a pile of junk to either sell or use for parts to repair something.
Biography: Malak grew up within the desert plains of Tatooine. As he grew up, he became quite good at scavenging and repairing old things and reselling them for a great price. As he grew up, life was pretty normal. Being raise to how to look for good parts and how to barter with the other locals. Though all that change one day while the sandcrawler was out on his normally run, a ship crash down within the dunes of the sands. His people quickly head towards it, believing there was something they could take.
Which their was though something else within the ship. It seem that a twi'lek child was able to survive. Either through fate or luck Malak didn't know. Though as he order his small team to salvage what they could he went up to the child. Seeing the twi'lek crying out in fear as he picks it up. Though most of his team told him to leave the child behind he couldn't. Bringing the child back with him he raise it within the other jawa's.
As she grew older, he taught her how to scavenge through junk and pick out good parts that people would be willing to buy. As well at least repair somewhat droids to resell later on. Once she was old enough, he told her how he found her and gave her the item that was on the crime lord's body. A vibro sabre, and believe she was ready to leave the nest and escape this little hellhold of a planet. Though she talk him into coming along with her. Though he didn't take much to convince him.
Age: 45
Gender: Male
Species: Jawa
Appearance: Dark brown robes that cover up most of his body and face. Only thing visible within the hood is his golden eyes like all jawas. With a sash around his chest to his shoulder that has tons of extra parts within them and some of his tools.
Profession: Engineer
Equipment: Ion blaster to deal with droids during his stay at the sandcrawler.
Skills: Being a Jawa, he great at scavenging as well as repairing old droid bots. Able fine worthwhile things in a pile of junk to either sell or use for parts to repair something.
Biography: Malak grew up within the desert plains of Tatooine. As he grew up, he became quite good at scavenging and repairing old things and reselling them for a great price. As he grew up, life was pretty normal. Being raise to how to look for good parts and how to barter with the other locals. Though all that change one day while the sandcrawler was out on his normally run, a ship crash down within the dunes of the sands. His people quickly head towards it, believing there was something they could take.
Which their was though something else within the ship. It seem that a twi'lek child was able to survive. Either through fate or luck Malak didn't know. Though as he order his small team to salvage what they could he went up to the child. Seeing the twi'lek crying out in fear as he picks it up. Though most of his team told him to leave the child behind he couldn't. Bringing the child back with him he raise it within the other jawa's.
As she grew older, he taught her how to scavenge through junk and pick out good parts that people would be willing to buy. As well at least repair somewhat droids to resell later on. Once she was old enough, he told her how he found her and gave her the item that was on the crime lord's body. A vibro sabre, and believe she was ready to leave the nest and escape this little hellhold of a planet. Though she talk him into coming along with her. Though he didn't take much to convince him.
Name: Twi'wa
Nick Name: Luna
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Species: Twi'lek
Appearance:
Standing at about 4ft , only a bit taller than most normal jawas. Her skin an extremely pale blue, due to her keeping her robes on for most of her life.
Profession: Assistant Engineer/mechanic
Equipment: Keeps hidden under her robes, the Vibro rapier and on her back is a Blaster Shotgun She also carries around a salvaging toolkit. She is also in the process of restoring a flamethrower to a working state.
On her person, she keeps a small droid she nicknamed "bubbles". He is a small DUM-series Pit Droid,who helps her out whenever she asks for it. Over the year or two she's had him, Luna has been able to improve his intelligence sos that he's not quite as stupid. He's also painted solid black as she seems to adore the color.
Skills: Being rasied by Jawa's, she great at scavenging as well as repairing old droid bots. She can also work absolute wonders with anything that's mechanical in general, learning everything she could from her tribe.
The Twi'lek is also good with her vibro rapier, practicing allot with the weapon to get good with it.
Force sensetive: Only has a bit of improved luck. a shot misses her here or there, a fall that normally might have broken her leg doesn't. She has no outstanding abilities with the force other than the bit more luck.
Speaks Galactic common, Jawanese, Jawanese basic trading, has a decent understanding of binary, even able to recreate some of the beeps and sounds. She also speaks a number of other languages, but broken in form because of only having salvaged equipment to work with.
Biography: Twi'wa was one of the girls sold into slavery, being born only a few months before the deal actually went down. She was bought by a crime lord, who intended on raising her to be his perfect little slave. That's when an ambush hit his ship, forcing it to crash onto Tatooine. The impact killed everyone aboard, save for herself.
she was found by a Jawa named Malek, raising her as if she was his own. The girl loved to work with machines, she ran around most of the time, trying to figure out how things worked, learning absolutely everything she could from all of the members of her father's clan. Time past and she spent allot of her time learning languages to help improve trade for her clan, becoming fluent with Galactic common and her time spent around droids led her to understand binary pretty well.
She was an asset to the clan that helped them flourish and become rather well supplied compared to the others. However, when she was in her early teens, an opportunity arose for her to get off the planet. She wanted to go, but didn't want to leave her father on the planet. It took about a day or two for him to make his choice, there was far more to salvage in the galaxy than by staying on the planet.
A short time after that, the two set off to the stars, looking for opportunities to put their skills to use.
Nick Name: Luna
Age: 15
Gender: Female
Species: Twi'lek
Appearance:
Standing at about 4ft , only a bit taller than most normal jawas. Her skin an extremely pale blue, due to her keeping her robes on for most of her life.
Profession: Assistant Engineer/mechanic
Equipment: Keeps hidden under her robes, the Vibro rapier and on her back is a Blaster Shotgun She also carries around a salvaging toolkit. She is also in the process of restoring a flamethrower to a working state.
On her person, she keeps a small droid she nicknamed "bubbles". He is a small DUM-series Pit Droid,who helps her out whenever she asks for it. Over the year or two she's had him, Luna has been able to improve his intelligence sos that he's not quite as stupid. He's also painted solid black as she seems to adore the color.
Skills: Being rasied by Jawa's, she great at scavenging as well as repairing old droid bots. She can also work absolute wonders with anything that's mechanical in general, learning everything she could from her tribe.
The Twi'lek is also good with her vibro rapier, practicing allot with the weapon to get good with it.
Force sensetive: Only has a bit of improved luck. a shot misses her here or there, a fall that normally might have broken her leg doesn't. She has no outstanding abilities with the force other than the bit more luck.
Speaks Galactic common, Jawanese, Jawanese basic trading, has a decent understanding of binary, even able to recreate some of the beeps and sounds. She also speaks a number of other languages, but broken in form because of only having salvaged equipment to work with.
Biography: Twi'wa was one of the girls sold into slavery, being born only a few months before the deal actually went down. She was bought by a crime lord, who intended on raising her to be his perfect little slave. That's when an ambush hit his ship, forcing it to crash onto Tatooine. The impact killed everyone aboard, save for herself.
she was found by a Jawa named Malek, raising her as if she was his own. The girl loved to work with machines, she ran around most of the time, trying to figure out how things worked, learning absolutely everything she could from all of the members of her father's clan. Time past and she spent allot of her time learning languages to help improve trade for her clan, becoming fluent with Galactic common and her time spent around droids led her to understand binary pretty well.
She was an asset to the clan that helped them flourish and become rather well supplied compared to the others. However, when she was in her early teens, an opportunity arose for her to get off the planet. She wanted to go, but didn't want to leave her father on the planet. It took about a day or two for him to make his choice, there was far more to salvage in the galaxy than by staying on the planet.
A short time after that, the two set off to the stars, looking for opportunities to put their skills to use.
Name: BOB-809
Age: 10 years
Gender: Male-oriented
Species: Combat Droid
Appearance: A veritable cornucopia of adapted personal repair work over a frame that screams military hardware. Bob is a tall humanoid machine with largely a black-on-gray exterior, meant to look like an intimidating death machine with triple-jointed limbs ending in human-like hands and feet with gripping talon-digits to allow for different stances, incredible balance and poise, and easy climbing/clinging. The alterations done to his frame are either out of necessity or to increase intimidation factors. His head has been altered to appear as a skull with several small droid-eyes in place. Added to his torso is a metal ribcage for extra protection, and the rest appears to be cases of stripping anything metal nearby and using it to fortify/replace ruined armor from previous fights. He appears to store equipment on his lower-back storage area while there are the mounted barrels of a pair of cannons on the upper-back fixed in an upward direction.
Profession: Security!
Equipment: Blaster repeater rifle, grappling gun, vibro sword, two back-mounted fixed-position blaster cannons, personal repair kit
Skills: As a combat droid, he is required to understand the use of weapons in deadly combat and perform at peak efficiency in warfare situations wherever possible. Secondary skills would be in robotic repair/maintenance and computer use. Due to this nature, however, it also follows that he can strip down an enemy machine rather quicklly and use it for materials.
Biography: And...activate!
Ten years ago, the Nemoidian trade federation ordered its best droid manufacturer to produce a new model of combat droid to succeed the "Roger, Roger!" model and the Droideika in order to compete with other robotic forms. However, they were at a loss. The business council found that they weren't really getting much out of their development team. They decided...to quietly hire an outside consultant - a human - to help with the design and programming of their newest combat machine. What followed was the birth of the TAU-809 series android killing machine, nicknamed Bob after the consultant. On the day of the unveilment, however, there was an issue that the creator had to resolve off-planet and so his associates on Nemoidia had to present the new model themselves. It SEEMED fine, at first...but at the meeting, things ended up more like this. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9l9wxGFl4k] Actually, a little more-so. During a demonstration, the TAU-809 destroyed the entire business council with its heavy cannons when a blaster was pointed at it.
The TAU prototype, realizing that it's systems had been badly configured, attempted to explain that there were several issues regarding its programming in which Nemoidian command protocols were being erroneously used in conjunction with Human programming, and that the binary was a bit of a mess altogether. However, this was not well-received as they were all too dead to care. Once this was realized, the droid realized that it was on its own here, and that the only thing it could rely on was its back-up self-preservation programming...which commanded it to jump out a window, grapple onto a passing speeder, and them smack into a wall before realizing that maaaybe this programming was not working very well either. True, it had gotten away from the scene of the crime, but it was a bit...wrong. The TAU prototype redesignated itself as BOB-809 and proceeded to find the means to repair what it had just damaged during its escape and find a way to rework its software. This was hardly easy, as it involved having to effectively rewrite its own brain.
Bob ended up working through patches to his system through trial and error, because he was a non-standard model without an instruction manual. His creators might've been able to deal with this, but somehow he doubted that the Nemoidian ones would help, and the only clue as to the identity of his human maker was "BRB". Not helpful... Bob began to attack and strip down other droids before leaving the planet to find other droid models to work on. Over the years of survival, combat, and attempted repairs, he has managed to make himself not 100% lethal to any group of people who might be holding a gun in his vicinity, which is good. However, the rest of the programming is a bit sketchy. There would appear to be moments where he might interject in the binary beeps and whirs of a utility droid, or the jovial attitude of a Huttball announcer. This was a huge contrast to his deep mmechanical-sounding voice, and definitely a weirder attitude. He has been forced to, in the meantime, apologize directly after for a faulty patch. He has been known to do mercenary work or steal for continued processing, so perhaps this smuggler ship here would be ideal...
Age: 10 years
Gender: Male-oriented
Species: Combat Droid
Appearance: A veritable cornucopia of adapted personal repair work over a frame that screams military hardware. Bob is a tall humanoid machine with largely a black-on-gray exterior, meant to look like an intimidating death machine with triple-jointed limbs ending in human-like hands and feet with gripping talon-digits to allow for different stances, incredible balance and poise, and easy climbing/clinging. The alterations done to his frame are either out of necessity or to increase intimidation factors. His head has been altered to appear as a skull with several small droid-eyes in place. Added to his torso is a metal ribcage for extra protection, and the rest appears to be cases of stripping anything metal nearby and using it to fortify/replace ruined armor from previous fights. He appears to store equipment on his lower-back storage area while there are the mounted barrels of a pair of cannons on the upper-back fixed in an upward direction.
Profession: Security!
Equipment: Blaster repeater rifle, grappling gun, vibro sword, two back-mounted fixed-position blaster cannons, personal repair kit
Skills: As a combat droid, he is required to understand the use of weapons in deadly combat and perform at peak efficiency in warfare situations wherever possible. Secondary skills would be in robotic repair/maintenance and computer use. Due to this nature, however, it also follows that he can strip down an enemy machine rather quicklly and use it for materials.
Biography: And...activate!
Ten years ago, the Nemoidian trade federation ordered its best droid manufacturer to produce a new model of combat droid to succeed the "Roger, Roger!" model and the Droideika in order to compete with other robotic forms. However, they were at a loss. The business council found that they weren't really getting much out of their development team. They decided...to quietly hire an outside consultant - a human - to help with the design and programming of their newest combat machine. What followed was the birth of the TAU-809 series android killing machine, nicknamed Bob after the consultant. On the day of the unveilment, however, there was an issue that the creator had to resolve off-planet and so his associates on Nemoidia had to present the new model themselves. It SEEMED fine, at first...but at the meeting, things ended up more like this. [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A9l9wxGFl4k] Actually, a little more-so. During a demonstration, the TAU-809 destroyed the entire business council with its heavy cannons when a blaster was pointed at it.
The TAU prototype, realizing that it's systems had been badly configured, attempted to explain that there were several issues regarding its programming in which Nemoidian command protocols were being erroneously used in conjunction with Human programming, and that the binary was a bit of a mess altogether. However, this was not well-received as they were all too dead to care. Once this was realized, the droid realized that it was on its own here, and that the only thing it could rely on was its back-up self-preservation programming...which commanded it to jump out a window, grapple onto a passing speeder, and them smack into a wall before realizing that maaaybe this programming was not working very well either. True, it had gotten away from the scene of the crime, but it was a bit...wrong. The TAU prototype redesignated itself as BOB-809 and proceeded to find the means to repair what it had just damaged during its escape and find a way to rework its software. This was hardly easy, as it involved having to effectively rewrite its own brain.
Bob ended up working through patches to his system through trial and error, because he was a non-standard model without an instruction manual. His creators might've been able to deal with this, but somehow he doubted that the Nemoidian ones would help, and the only clue as to the identity of his human maker was "BRB". Not helpful... Bob began to attack and strip down other droids before leaving the planet to find other droid models to work on. Over the years of survival, combat, and attempted repairs, he has managed to make himself not 100% lethal to any group of people who might be holding a gun in his vicinity, which is good. However, the rest of the programming is a bit sketchy. There would appear to be moments where he might interject in the binary beeps and whirs of a utility droid, or the jovial attitude of a Huttball announcer. This was a huge contrast to his deep mmechanical-sounding voice, and definitely a weirder attitude. He has been forced to, in the meantime, apologize directly after for a faulty patch. He has been known to do mercenary work or steal for continued processing, so perhaps this smuggler ship here would be ideal...
Name:Saalia Knoses
Age: 42
Gender: Female
Species: Cyborg
Appearance: Saalia stand at 5'11" and weighs about 130 lbs. She wears a dark coat the reaches to just past her waist over a simple white tank top and black jeans. She has shoulder length black hair that hangs over the left side of her face to conceal the cybernetic eye beneath. She also wears a black leather glove on her right hand to conceal the cybernetic hand. Her cybernetic eye glows blue while her remaining eye is a dark brown.
Profession: Gunner
Equipment: Two heavy blasters at her side and a vibro-knife tucked into the top her boot.
Skills: Saalia is skilled with the blasters she keeps at her side as well as the knife in her boot. She has some experience repairing larger ship classed cannon's as well as their batteries.
Biography: Saalia was born on Nar Shadaa in 46 BBY. Due to the pollution of the planet, and her mother's dependency on spice, had caused her left eye to be underdeveloped. For the first few years of her life, while her mother worked as a dancer for a local Hutt, and her father as a dockworker, She had to mainly take care of herself. She grew up quickly learning how to survive in one of the worst places in the galaxy.
During her teenage years she took to breaking into warehouses on bet's and stealing anything her opponent asked for. Eventually, she started doing it for just straight up credits, usually for who ever wanted something from a warehouse or docked ship who's owner wouldn't sell. During one failed attempt, the owner a Rhodan, had decided a thief would get a thieves punishment a cut off her right hand. After all her work, she had enough saved up to afford cybernetic parts, for her eyes and hand, as well as a few other parts of her body, mostly internal organs to keep her healthy. This was 24 BBY
Withing the next two years she began to save more and more, taking on jobs from those with more credits among Nar Shadaa, including one Goma the Hutt, which she had her steal blueprints for a new droid model. She succeeded and was paid handsomely.
When the war started she joined on with a another smuggler that took more jobs from Republic Senators, mostly to help with the war effort, bringing supplies in to refugees, or to encampments of Clone troopers. Occasionally they would ask for some art piece or shipment of sand. One or twice even to take plans to the Separatists, they did them all. When the republic fell. The Smuggler she worked with went underground. He kicked off most of the crew, save his droid, on the nearest space port and they never saw his sorry hide again. Saalia has been hoping from job to job ever since hoping one day to be able to get back at the empire for ruining what had previously been a good life.
Age: 42
Gender: Female
Species: Cyborg
Appearance: Saalia stand at 5'11" and weighs about 130 lbs. She wears a dark coat the reaches to just past her waist over a simple white tank top and black jeans. She has shoulder length black hair that hangs over the left side of her face to conceal the cybernetic eye beneath. She also wears a black leather glove on her right hand to conceal the cybernetic hand. Her cybernetic eye glows blue while her remaining eye is a dark brown.
Profession: Gunner
Equipment: Two heavy blasters at her side and a vibro-knife tucked into the top her boot.
Skills: Saalia is skilled with the blasters she keeps at her side as well as the knife in her boot. She has some experience repairing larger ship classed cannon's as well as their batteries.
Biography: Saalia was born on Nar Shadaa in 46 BBY. Due to the pollution of the planet, and her mother's dependency on spice, had caused her left eye to be underdeveloped. For the first few years of her life, while her mother worked as a dancer for a local Hutt, and her father as a dockworker, She had to mainly take care of herself. She grew up quickly learning how to survive in one of the worst places in the galaxy.
During her teenage years she took to breaking into warehouses on bet's and stealing anything her opponent asked for. Eventually, she started doing it for just straight up credits, usually for who ever wanted something from a warehouse or docked ship who's owner wouldn't sell. During one failed attempt, the owner a Rhodan, had decided a thief would get a thieves punishment a cut off her right hand. After all her work, she had enough saved up to afford cybernetic parts, for her eyes and hand, as well as a few other parts of her body, mostly internal organs to keep her healthy. This was 24 BBY
Withing the next two years she began to save more and more, taking on jobs from those with more credits among Nar Shadaa, including one Goma the Hutt, which she had her steal blueprints for a new droid model. She succeeded and was paid handsomely.
When the war started she joined on with a another smuggler that took more jobs from Republic Senators, mostly to help with the war effort, bringing supplies in to refugees, or to encampments of Clone troopers. Occasionally they would ask for some art piece or shipment of sand. One or twice even to take plans to the Separatists, they did them all. When the republic fell. The Smuggler she worked with went underground. He kicked off most of the crew, save his droid, on the nearest space port and they never saw his sorry hide again. Saalia has been hoping from job to job ever since hoping one day to be able to get back at the empire for ruining what had previously been a good life.
Name: Narissa
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Appearance: Narissa stands around 5 and a half feet tall, with a slim but muscular build. She has blond hair, cut to just above the top of her neckline, which combined with her figure, gives her a somewhat masculine appearance. She has bright green eyes, and generally wears a somewhat faded and worse for the wear brown Jedi robe over her darker brown vest and tan leggings, in order to conceal her equipment. Her skin is fairly tanned, and she has a number of scars on her body, although asking about them is a good way to get her to draw her knife.
Profession: Navigator
Equipment: blaster pistol, vibroknife, various computer interfaces, hacking tools
Skills: Narissa has a great deal of knowledge about the underworld, and where the hidden places in the galaxy are, along with the stealthiest path to various places. On ground, she is a skilled slicer, able to break through most electronic security and gain access to various systems. On the more violent side, should she become seen, she has proven deadly with her vibroknife through years of practice.
History: Narissa has...a troubled history, to say the least. She grew up on Nar Shaddaa, the daughter of a male law enforcement officer and a female small-time business owner. However, when she was 14, her mother's true colors were revealed, as she arranged for her husband to accidentally fall into one of Nar Shaddaa's many pits, taking her daughter and teaching her the trade of espionage, her mother using her small-time business as an information front. Unfortunately, not all information is safe to handle, and only two years later, a rodian that had been left ruined by her mother's information dealing took lethal revenge, taking the sixteen year old kid as his own...well, no one is really sure. All that is known is that 7 years after that incident, the then 23 year old slipped aboard the Kepla, offering up her connections as an information broker. When that failed, she instead decided to use her connections in a different way, finding paths where none were seen, and found her place aboard the Kepla.
Age: 25
Gender: Female
Species: Human
Appearance: Narissa stands around 5 and a half feet tall, with a slim but muscular build. She has blond hair, cut to just above the top of her neckline, which combined with her figure, gives her a somewhat masculine appearance. She has bright green eyes, and generally wears a somewhat faded and worse for the wear brown Jedi robe over her darker brown vest and tan leggings, in order to conceal her equipment. Her skin is fairly tanned, and she has a number of scars on her body, although asking about them is a good way to get her to draw her knife.
Profession: Navigator
Equipment: blaster pistol, vibroknife, various computer interfaces, hacking tools
Skills: Narissa has a great deal of knowledge about the underworld, and where the hidden places in the galaxy are, along with the stealthiest path to various places. On ground, she is a skilled slicer, able to break through most electronic security and gain access to various systems. On the more violent side, should she become seen, she has proven deadly with her vibroknife through years of practice.
History: Narissa has...a troubled history, to say the least. She grew up on Nar Shaddaa, the daughter of a male law enforcement officer and a female small-time business owner. However, when she was 14, her mother's true colors were revealed, as she arranged for her husband to accidentally fall into one of Nar Shaddaa's many pits, taking her daughter and teaching her the trade of espionage, her mother using her small-time business as an information front. Unfortunately, not all information is safe to handle, and only two years later, a rodian that had been left ruined by her mother's information dealing took lethal revenge, taking the sixteen year old kid as his own...well, no one is really sure. All that is known is that 7 years after that incident, the then 23 year old slipped aboard the Kepla, offering up her connections as an information broker. When that failed, she instead decided to use her connections in a different way, finding paths where none were seen, and found her place aboard the Kepla.
Name: Frann'Ko
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Species: Twi'lek/human natural hybrid
Appearance: Pretty normal looking except for 2 things: The small protuberations on his forehead are practically non-existant and his skin tone is very human caucasian-like with a shade of orange. He wears headwrapping like females and and ammo belt on his chest hidden by a cloak. I should have a sketch one of these days
Profession: Sniper and scout.
Equipment: A modified Blastech DLT-20A with interchangeable barrel to work as a sniper. His field equipment generally includes militar rations, different cells (ion, plasma, acid), explosives, tracking devices and survival kits in his backpack, concealed under a cloak. He also has a hold-out blaster and a small vibroblade in his knuckle just in case.
Skills: Not force sensitive. To quote HK-47, he can actually make the 100 km shot to the knees. He have used long range artillery and custom ion snipers to take mechs and such from further. He's no expert in demolitions but he can strap explosive charges and count backwards. Last, but not least, he's an expert at guerrilla fight and recon., with some knowledge of first aid and tracking.
Biography: The following narration will be in-character:
"So, what're you looking for, capt'n? My story? Hah, it's not that good, but since you paid the drinks, why not? Lets see, I'm...what's the word...a bastard, the fatherless kind I mean. I was born on Sleheyron as, guess it, a slave. I served a ball of fat commonly known there as Thero the Hutt, small time, sadistic monster. I served that breathing butt for 13 years until mom died. The same night I stole a thermal detonator from a bounty hunter, hid in his meal and run.
Almost inmediatly I was "recruited" into Sleheyron's Resistance, who by the way were doomed from the start, but had nice equipment. Their leader Ranna...she was kinda my mentor, I'm pretty sure she liked me in her own psycothic way. She taught me everything I know. Demolitions, survival...killing...I mean I already knew how to do that, but only she could slip a heat localization device inside a palace and use a custom sniper to blow the head of a hutt through the wall, and she taught to me to do the same. It was a sad day when a conglomerate of those gangsters butchered all the movement. I survived the masacre hiding under corpses.
After that I escaped the planet. I was...17 I think. That means I've spent the last 10 years doing odd jobs. Bartender, duelist, mercenary, assassin..."Reconnaissance Expert Consoultant", heh, for a military job. Saved a lot of green recruits of dying of fever and wild animals that time. So yeah, it's been a bumpy ride. Yeah, that's about it, the abridged version anyways. Do I match your profile capt'n?"
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Species: Twi'lek/human natural hybrid
Appearance: Pretty normal looking except for 2 things: The small protuberations on his forehead are practically non-existant and his skin tone is very human caucasian-like with a shade of orange. He wears headwrapping like females and and ammo belt on his chest hidden by a cloak. I should have a sketch one of these days
Profession: Sniper and scout.
Equipment: A modified Blastech DLT-20A with interchangeable barrel to work as a sniper. His field equipment generally includes militar rations, different cells (ion, plasma, acid), explosives, tracking devices and survival kits in his backpack, concealed under a cloak. He also has a hold-out blaster and a small vibroblade in his knuckle just in case.
Skills: Not force sensitive. To quote HK-47, he can actually make the 100 km shot to the knees. He have used long range artillery and custom ion snipers to take mechs and such from further. He's no expert in demolitions but he can strap explosive charges and count backwards. Last, but not least, he's an expert at guerrilla fight and recon., with some knowledge of first aid and tracking.
Biography: The following narration will be in-character:
"So, what're you looking for, capt'n? My story? Hah, it's not that good, but since you paid the drinks, why not? Lets see, I'm...what's the word...a bastard, the fatherless kind I mean. I was born on Sleheyron as, guess it, a slave. I served a ball of fat commonly known there as Thero the Hutt, small time, sadistic monster. I served that breathing butt for 13 years until mom died. The same night I stole a thermal detonator from a bounty hunter, hid in his meal and run.
Almost inmediatly I was "recruited" into Sleheyron's Resistance, who by the way were doomed from the start, but had nice equipment. Their leader Ranna...she was kinda my mentor, I'm pretty sure she liked me in her own psycothic way. She taught me everything I know. Demolitions, survival...killing...I mean I already knew how to do that, but only she could slip a heat localization device inside a palace and use a custom sniper to blow the head of a hutt through the wall, and she taught to me to do the same. It was a sad day when a conglomerate of those gangsters butchered all the movement. I survived the masacre hiding under corpses.
After that I escaped the planet. I was...17 I think. That means I've spent the last 10 years doing odd jobs. Bartender, duelist, mercenary, assassin..."Reconnaissance Expert Consoultant", heh, for a military job. Saved a lot of green recruits of dying of fever and wild animals that time. So yeah, it's been a bumpy ride. Yeah, that's about it, the abridged version anyways. Do I match your profile capt'n?"
Name: Zanoo Suvik
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Species: Rodian
Appearance: Green mostly. Okay okay. Zanoo isn't especially remarkable in appearance for a rodian. He wears unremarkable and worn standard spacer clothing that looks like it was either scavenged or picked up very cheaply, which is correct on both counts. The only notable piece of clothing he wears is a red scarf that although quite dirty, looks as though it may have been worth quite a bit before he got his hands on it, the material looking to be considerably finer than the rest of his mismatched ensemble. The only other thing of particular note about his appearance is a huttese slave tattoo on his upper left arm, but this is usually covered by his clothing, so it's unlikely many of the crew bar the captain have seen it.
Profession: Chemist/Cook
Equipment: Chem kit, assorted stims, datapad, vibroknife, blaster pistol.
Skills: Fluent in Rodian and Huttese, competent in Basic, capable of reading and understanding it, although speaks it in a broken fashion as he's not as accustomed to using it. Very good with chemicals and more than capable of making stims given the materials, also surprisingly good at cooking.
Biography: Zanoo was born a slave in hutt space. Once old enough to work in the narcotic factories of his hutt masters, it was soon discovered that Zanoo was something of a savant when it came to formulas, when it was noticed he was deviating from the instructions given to them for the manufacture of the batch of drugs he was working on. Zanoo's mixture, when inspected by the hutt's overseers (while Zanoo was recieving a beating for the disobedience, was discovered to be an improvement on the original recipe in various little ways. This resulted in his beating to be paused until his hutt master arrived when the improvements of the anomolous batch were reported to him. When asked by his master why he had dared to defy his master, the rodian replied. "Because I could do better. Why have good, when you can have better?" Such an answer amused his master enough to elevate him to work alongside those in charge of devising new mixtures for the hutts drug markets. It was work he enjoyed much more than the drudgery and frustration of mixing what he saw as incorrect or substandard formulas, but there was still the odd beating and he was still property confined to a huttese drug lab. Still, though his curiousity wondered about the world beyond the cold durasteel walls and the smells of chemicals, he was happy enough with his formulas and chemicals to not make a fuss, maintaining a cheerful demeanor. Except for the beatings. Those he could do without.
Freedom came in an unexpected fashion one day, as the lab and factory was bombarded during one of the many skirmishs between hutt clans, crimelords mercernary crews and Lysa Estor's consortium. The factory went first, the many vats of chemicals igniting and turning much of the factory floor and the workers therein into so much burning chemical slurry.
Those in the development labs, Zanoo included, were luckier, having enough time to make it to the shuttle bay before the fires spread to the dev. labs and managed to flee off world in the aftermath of the attack while those involved were still too busy cleaning each other up. He did hear some of the hutt's forces screaming over the shuttle coms about who they were up against before the shuttle was out of range though. He made a point to remember that.
After his escape, Zanoo found that his obsession with formulae also afforded him much enjoyment in preparing recipes and made most of his money working in cantinas, preparing food and mixing drinks, strange as the idea of a rodian in the kitchen might sound. That said though, many don't care what race the person behind the cantina bar is, as long as they get their damn drink.
One such night in a cantina somewhere, he heard tell that a certain starship captain was among the crowd. This was excellent news for Zanoo, as he'd also heard tell her organisation had fallen apart. Upon finding her, he offered her his most sincere thanks for his freedom. and offered his services as a chemist..or a cook aboard her ship if she'd have him.
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Species: Rodian
Appearance: Green mostly. Okay okay. Zanoo isn't especially remarkable in appearance for a rodian. He wears unremarkable and worn standard spacer clothing that looks like it was either scavenged or picked up very cheaply, which is correct on both counts. The only notable piece of clothing he wears is a red scarf that although quite dirty, looks as though it may have been worth quite a bit before he got his hands on it, the material looking to be considerably finer than the rest of his mismatched ensemble. The only other thing of particular note about his appearance is a huttese slave tattoo on his upper left arm, but this is usually covered by his clothing, so it's unlikely many of the crew bar the captain have seen it.
Profession: Chemist/Cook
Equipment: Chem kit, assorted stims, datapad, vibroknife, blaster pistol.
Skills: Fluent in Rodian and Huttese, competent in Basic, capable of reading and understanding it, although speaks it in a broken fashion as he's not as accustomed to using it. Very good with chemicals and more than capable of making stims given the materials, also surprisingly good at cooking.
Biography: Zanoo was born a slave in hutt space. Once old enough to work in the narcotic factories of his hutt masters, it was soon discovered that Zanoo was something of a savant when it came to formulas, when it was noticed he was deviating from the instructions given to them for the manufacture of the batch of drugs he was working on. Zanoo's mixture, when inspected by the hutt's overseers (while Zanoo was recieving a beating for the disobedience, was discovered to be an improvement on the original recipe in various little ways. This resulted in his beating to be paused until his hutt master arrived when the improvements of the anomolous batch were reported to him. When asked by his master why he had dared to defy his master, the rodian replied. "Because I could do better. Why have good, when you can have better?" Such an answer amused his master enough to elevate him to work alongside those in charge of devising new mixtures for the hutts drug markets. It was work he enjoyed much more than the drudgery and frustration of mixing what he saw as incorrect or substandard formulas, but there was still the odd beating and he was still property confined to a huttese drug lab. Still, though his curiousity wondered about the world beyond the cold durasteel walls and the smells of chemicals, he was happy enough with his formulas and chemicals to not make a fuss, maintaining a cheerful demeanor. Except for the beatings. Those he could do without.
Freedom came in an unexpected fashion one day, as the lab and factory was bombarded during one of the many skirmishs between hutt clans, crimelords mercernary crews and Lysa Estor's consortium. The factory went first, the many vats of chemicals igniting and turning much of the factory floor and the workers therein into so much burning chemical slurry.
Those in the development labs, Zanoo included, were luckier, having enough time to make it to the shuttle bay before the fires spread to the dev. labs and managed to flee off world in the aftermath of the attack while those involved were still too busy cleaning each other up. He did hear some of the hutt's forces screaming over the shuttle coms about who they were up against before the shuttle was out of range though. He made a point to remember that.
After his escape, Zanoo found that his obsession with formulae also afforded him much enjoyment in preparing recipes and made most of his money working in cantinas, preparing food and mixing drinks, strange as the idea of a rodian in the kitchen might sound. That said though, many don't care what race the person behind the cantina bar is, as long as they get their damn drink.
One such night in a cantina somewhere, he heard tell that a certain starship captain was among the crowd. This was excellent news for Zanoo, as he'd also heard tell her organisation had fallen apart. Upon finding her, he offered her his most sincere thanks for his freedom. and offered his services as a chemist..or a cook aboard her ship if she'd have him.
I apologize to everyone who made the effort to make these entertaining sheets above this post and didn't make it in. As I started working out the crew dynamic and how jobs will play out, I realized that it would just be too difficult to follow if I let everyone in.
I'll make a group for the crew right now and start the journey in just a couple of hours.
"Once we're certain where they'll try to hit us next, we'll set up the asteroid traps in those locations, as per our usual strategy, and obliterate them. Before they can react, we'll strike at the minor holdings in Hutt space while a few of our agents head for Nal Hutta and Nar Shadda to stir up trouble. This will no doubt draw focus from our outer rim movements, where we can move with impunity."
Lysa stared at the map of the galaxy before her, clusters of stars and faint arrows hovering above a beautifully furnished chamber. The consortium had come a long way since its creation, the first meetings cramped on board the Tiberius seemed like ages ago from the comfortable housing of their state-of-the-art space station. "And that's when you'll hit Tatooone?" Lysa spoke to the imposing man on the opposite side of the table, his long, white hair flowing down to his shoulders.
"Of course, Jabba will never see me coming."
"Sto-!" Lysa gasped as she snapped out of her slumber, sweat sticking her hair to her face and neck. The captain took a moment to breathe in order to calm herself, matching her breath to the rhythm of the Kepla's engine. The fact that she woke up on her own accord without her cybernetics alerting her meant that the ship must still be in hyperspace, or that someone had broken the navicomputer, again.
With a groan, Lysa began her "morning" routine with a few stretching exercises while she ran a pre-programmed diagnostic on her cybernetics. Sometimes, she did it even though she knew she shouldn't. Even on a daily basis, she could feel the disparity in her body taking its toll. Her mechanical parts metaphorically tugging on the aging pieces of her that just wanted to go back to bed. Today was one of those days, giving Lysa a good reason to reach for her private stash of alcohol earlier than usual.
With a little shock to the system giving her a spring in her step, Lysa got dressed and pulled out the notes she had for the crew's new job. "Ah, yes, the Scrapheap..." Lysa nodded to herself as she went over the details of what she had planned, the Kepla had a streak of bad luck on the job front, flying around for a couple of weeks with little to do beyond cargo-hauling just to keep the ship fueled. However, once Lysa found work...it was a doozie.
Flicking on the intercom she kept by her desk, Lysa made a ship-wide announcement. "Rise and shine everybody, meeting in the galley in ten minutes." Captain Estor heard her voice echo about the ship before flicking the intercom back off, smiling as she thought about what the others would think over their newest mission.
Lysa stared at the map of the galaxy before her, clusters of stars and faint arrows hovering above a beautifully furnished chamber. The consortium had come a long way since its creation, the first meetings cramped on board the Tiberius seemed like ages ago from the comfortable housing of their state-of-the-art space station. "And that's when you'll hit Tatooone?" Lysa spoke to the imposing man on the opposite side of the table, his long, white hair flowing down to his shoulders.
"Of course, Jabba will never see me coming."
"Sto-!" Lysa gasped as she snapped out of her slumber, sweat sticking her hair to her face and neck. The captain took a moment to breathe in order to calm herself, matching her breath to the rhythm of the Kepla's engine. The fact that she woke up on her own accord without her cybernetics alerting her meant that the ship must still be in hyperspace, or that someone had broken the navicomputer, again.
With a groan, Lysa began her "morning" routine with a few stretching exercises while she ran a pre-programmed diagnostic on her cybernetics. Sometimes, she did it even though she knew she shouldn't. Even on a daily basis, she could feel the disparity in her body taking its toll. Her mechanical parts metaphorically tugging on the aging pieces of her that just wanted to go back to bed. Today was one of those days, giving Lysa a good reason to reach for her private stash of alcohol earlier than usual.
With a little shock to the system giving her a spring in her step, Lysa got dressed and pulled out the notes she had for the crew's new job. "Ah, yes, the Scrapheap..." Lysa nodded to herself as she went over the details of what she had planned, the Kepla had a streak of bad luck on the job front, flying around for a couple of weeks with little to do beyond cargo-hauling just to keep the ship fueled. However, once Lysa found work...it was a doozie.
Flicking on the intercom she kept by her desk, Lysa made a ship-wide announcement. "Rise and shine everybody, meeting in the galley in ten minutes." Captain Estor heard her voice echo about the ship before flicking the intercom back off, smiling as she thought about what the others would think over their newest mission.
Twi'wa, or Luna, as she preffered to be called by the rest of the crew, save for her father; got up out of bed as she usually did form living most of her life on Tatooine. That was to say, she got up and was already teeming with energy; there's not much time to waste when you're scavenging and working on robots. She made sure she didn't hit her head on the bunk above her, then pulled down her goggles. She slept with them on as they were somewhat of a comfort to her, as well as the scent of her father nearby.
Standing up, her entire face was blackened, save for the small reflections of her eyes from the lights of the ship. the only thing hanging out of her hood were her lekku's, which were covered in black cloth. pulling her little pit bot out from underneath her bunk, she tapped it's eye to 'wake it up' so to say. She checked on her father, to make sure he was still alright, then after a few more beeps and whistles, the two of them were off.
The duo arrived at the galley and Luna took a seat, letting the little robot pick up her usual food. While bubbles was fetching her the usual dried meat and cup of water, she fetched the can of lubricant on her belt. Bubbles returned, setting down the food as Luna flipped open a little hatch on his 'head' and poured a bit of lubricant into it. She closed it and the little bot sat across from her.
Then proceeded what was probably another entry in Luna's series of oddest scenes in the galaxy as Luna enjoyed her breakfast while whistling and beeping, clicking as well, holding a conversation with bubbles. Laughter drifted out of the galley as she and her little bot were able to hold a fairly structured conversation in droidspeak. It had taken a while, but was totally worth it to get bubble's capabilities to this point in luna's opinion.
Standing up, her entire face was blackened, save for the small reflections of her eyes from the lights of the ship. the only thing hanging out of her hood were her lekku's, which were covered in black cloth. pulling her little pit bot out from underneath her bunk, she tapped it's eye to 'wake it up' so to say. She checked on her father, to make sure he was still alright, then after a few more beeps and whistles, the two of them were off.
The duo arrived at the galley and Luna took a seat, letting the little robot pick up her usual food. While bubbles was fetching her the usual dried meat and cup of water, she fetched the can of lubricant on her belt. Bubbles returned, setting down the food as Luna flipped open a little hatch on his 'head' and poured a bit of lubricant into it. She closed it and the little bot sat across from her.
Then proceeded what was probably another entry in Luna's series of oddest scenes in the galaxy as Luna enjoyed her breakfast while whistling and beeping, clicking as well, holding a conversation with bubbles. Laughter drifted out of the galley as she and her little bot were able to hold a fairly structured conversation in droidspeak. It had taken a while, but was totally worth it to get bubble's capabilities to this point in luna's opinion.
Saalia sat up from her bunk absentmindedly scratching where her skin met the metal on her face. It was something the quacks on even Nar Shadaa and warned her away from doing, and for the first few years she had 'em, she did. Now it was normal routine: sit up, scratch metal eye, grumble, and float through the day on the hopes for some credits and a chance to blast some poor Imp bastard in ass before bedtime. Not really something important in the grand scheme of things but Saalia was happy.
After running her the system check on the cybernetic parts and happy her cybernetic liver was still going strong, Saalia yawned and pulled on her boots. Still enough time to get some grub before the captain get's all antsy. She thought jogging towards the dining hall. Less than a few minutes later Saalia arrived in the galley, chewing a piece of dried bantha and a glass of water in her hand.
After running her the system check on the cybernetic parts and happy her cybernetic liver was still going strong, Saalia yawned and pulled on her boots. Still enough time to get some grub before the captain get's all antsy. She thought jogging towards the dining hall. Less than a few minutes later Saalia arrived in the galley, chewing a piece of dried bantha and a glass of water in her hand.
Malak was sleeping peacefully on his bunk bed until the alarm was ringing in his ear for him to wake up, though usually louder then normal. Jumping up frighten as he calms down a bit. Being a Jawa he was a bit easily to scared. Climbing down from his bunk bed he and his daughter shared as he see that she was already gone. Smiling as he always found her youthful energy amusing. He never really found any of the other Jawas so eager to get to work.
He pull his cloak above his head and set out to see where his daughter would be. Heading towards the mess hall as it seem the likely spot for her to be in at this hour. When walking into the galley he found her eating and chatting with that bot of hers. Sighing, he never understood why she kept that thing around.
He grab his food as he goes to the table his daughter is at. "Good morning Twi'wa " He said in Jawaese to her as he sits down beside her. "Why do you still keep that bot around? It's so old and useless. He was always telling her. Though in truth he didn't mind to much as he does it to tease her some. "We can get you a better one now. One that doesn't mess with my alarm!" He accuse the droid of doing.
He pull his cloak above his head and set out to see where his daughter would be. Heading towards the mess hall as it seem the likely spot for her to be in at this hour. When walking into the galley he found her eating and chatting with that bot of hers. Sighing, he never understood why she kept that thing around.
He grab his food as he goes to the table his daughter is at. "Good morning Twi'wa " He said in Jawaese to her as he sits down beside her. "Why do you still keep that bot around? It's so old and useless. He was always telling her. Though in truth he didn't mind to much as he does it to tease her some. "We can get you a better one now. One that doesn't mess with my alarm!" He accuse the droid of doing.
Zanoo was already awake when the announcement sounded over the coms. He'd made a habit of rising early to get some manner of food ready by the time most of the crew were getting up.
Today it was soup. This in itself was another sign that the Keplar wasn't exactly raking in the credits at that very moment. Soup was a good way to get a lot of milage out of dwindling supplies. It was good soup at least though. That's what counts. It was almost ready too. Needed just a little something else though, he thought, sniffing at it and trying a little bit.
A bit more spice perhaps? Looking around and finding the spice he was looking for not on the kitchen top, he headed to the dining room via the lift tube to grab the container from the table there. Upon his return to the galley, he noted that a few of the crew had since arrived.
"Good morning! Sleep well, yes?" he asked cheerfully, before turning his attention back to the pot of soup and adding the missing spice, stirring it through the mixture. "Want soup, anyone? Fresh made!"
Today it was soup. This in itself was another sign that the Keplar wasn't exactly raking in the credits at that very moment. Soup was a good way to get a lot of milage out of dwindling supplies. It was good soup at least though. That's what counts. It was almost ready too. Needed just a little something else though, he thought, sniffing at it and trying a little bit.
A bit more spice perhaps? Looking around and finding the spice he was looking for not on the kitchen top, he headed to the dining room via the lift tube to grab the container from the table there. Upon his return to the galley, he noted that a few of the crew had since arrived.
"Good morning! Sleep well, yes?" he asked cheerfully, before turning his attention back to the pot of soup and adding the missing spice, stirring it through the mixture. "Want soup, anyone? Fresh made!"