Star Wars: Shattered Galaxy

[Fishtie]

Don't get sensitive.

Sensitive? Hardly, I'm just having some fun with this.

...but your character is -completely useless-. Seriously, what is he going to do in the early stages of the RP, if, say, the party is attacked by a pack of thugs?

Besides, I wouldn't say he's -completely useless-. He's from a rural area and has some general proficiencies like any normal person. He does have a gun and knows how to use it even if he isn't a crack shot. I just didn't feel like filling up the skill entry with an infinite minute detail about how he's literate and has a small amount of experience with hover machinery.

Or, from another angle, don't think of it as being useless; think of it as being full of untapped potential. Let's say that during an encounter he is useless; that's likely to be the catalyst that causes him to no longer want to be useless, to grow in both skill and spirit. You know, character development. Yes, he isn't a soldier, or a pilot, or an engineer; but that just means he could eventually become any of them. Don't make me reference morals from children shows.

You seem to be confusing 'humble' with 'helpless'. Your character is not just a simple grocer, he's -completely boring-.

I think it is you who is making the big assumption that a grocer is helpless and boring just because he's a grocer. That had never been my plan in the least. Besides, my opinion is that boring characters become so in execution, not in their concept. But now I guess I'm getting into opinion and that's another debate entirely.

Luke Skywalker might have been a simple moisture farmer, but even he at least had interesting skills, what with bullseyeing wamp rats from his T-16 and whining about heading down to the Tochi Station to pick up some power converters.

In your example though Luke's skills as a pilot don't enter, or even get mentioned much, until the final climax. Would you say he was a boring character up to that point? As for the rest of the characterization, that all occurs in story. To match that I'd have to be able to make posts in character along with the story, something that can't really be done until the character is chosen. Unless you want me to expand the character sheet out to 12 pages (slight exaggeration) of serious examination of his entire history and psychology.

Although now that I think of it... I guess we could do sample posts.

I mean, it's your character, do what you want with him. But when time for the RP to start rolls around, it's a good bet I'm going to pick characters I actually find interesting, and probably not the characters that are incredibly dull - which includes both a grocer with no background traits and no skills and the trenchcoat-wearing bounty hunters.

Well, fair enough. It is your RP and you can pick who you want to be in. I just don't want you to pick or not pick my character for the wrong reasons. I just felt like doing something different and this is the result.

If you pick my character or not, I've already enjoyed myself on two counts. Making the character was fun, and I always enjoy a bit of intellectual discussion like this. So do what you want, I won't be hurt.

Of course, having said that, my character is hardly set in stone and I'm quite willing to edit it.

 

[ultrachicken]

Spoiler

Name: Rana

Age: 26

Gender: Female

Species: Duro

Homeworld: Duro

Profession: Refugee

Skills: Good at negotiating and generally creating peace wherever needed. That said, she does have some basic firearms skills, and is strong enough to hold her own in a one-on-one fight with someone of equal size. However, her combat experience is limited.

Possessions: Primitive knife, dirty coat, small pouch for carrying credits.

Appearance: Rana is 1.8 meters tall, standing at a relatively normal height, though still somewhat short for her species. Her skin is a pale blue, and her eyes are a fierce red. She has a thick build, with stout limbs. She clothes herself in a brown, haggard jacket and cargo pants, lending to a very destitute look.

Personality: Rana does not care for abstract ideologies. She is very down to earth, more focused on the immediate problem (for her, often survival) than any long term consequences. Her general attitude is surprisingly upbeat, often able to find the upside to any given situation. This makes her more easily able to perform an action that others would perceive as selfish, as her ability to rationalize by finding a good reason to cling to is powerful. She is more than willing to steal if it makes her life easier, but to kill requires a very good reason. Rana also finds herself very prone to taking comments from others personally; sensitive to words more often than physical pain. Because of this, she will often lie to save face. She has a sense of self-worthlessness thanks to her recent history and long term poverty.

Personal History: Rana was born into a poor family huddling in some rancid corner of an orbital city above Duro. Life has always been tough for her and her family, and their lack of political power thanks to the Duran political system, which gave only large stockholders any political sway, has ensured that she remained crawling in the mud. The lack of both political and economic freedom drained any patriotism there could have been from her mind. Her family, however, was very loyal to their homeworld of Duro, as their weak minds found it easier to love the hand that beat them than to hate it. Rana, despite her poverty, was still given a basic education, but she is still very naïve and lacks knowledge in many subjects.

Her kin slowly died of starvation or health issues that could not be paid for over the years. By the time she was twenty-five, all but her mother had been picked off by the cruel hand of fate. When rumors of the confederation tearing itself apart in the near future came to light, Rana decided that enough was enough. She would flee with her mother to find a better life elsewhere. Her mother resisted the idea, not wishing to abandon the planet she loved so much, but Rana managed to convince her by claiming that they could return once things had settled down. In truth, Rana was allured by the need for adventure shared by most Duros.

Once Rana reached the station, she discovered that her lack of a skill set still put her in a nasty position. Legitimate work was impossible to find, so she had to join a Duros refugee gang to make a living. While she was in this gang, she brutalized merchants, broke into apartments, and mugged innocent people. This was very difficult for her, as this was ugly work, but she comforted herself with the phrase, "everyone has to make a living somehow." However, her self-disgust still managed to grow as her work went on.

Her fellow thugs taught her to use blaster weaponry to make her more efficient. After a few months of this dirty work, Rana was told to help kidnap some children to be sold into prostitution. This was the straw that broke the camel's back. Her "friends" threatened to kill her mother if she left, but she did not heed their warnings. Rana's mother was found dead a week later, her limbs severed and scattered across the station. Rather than retaliate, Rana went into hiding; she knew that reporting the gang to the guards would result in her part in their operations to be revealed. Now her days are spent hiding from her former companions, begging on the edges of markets. Ongoing investigations into some of her previous murders and thieveries have placed her as a suspect, and she is therefore not allowed to leave the station. She is trapped in a cage with lions.

I'm sorry the sheet isn't finished, but it's currently 3:00 AM. I will complete it as soon as possible.

EDIT: Sheet's done now, let me know what you think.

EDIT 2: Did a little fine tuning.

 

[armcheesus]

Spoiler

Name: Dyos
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Species: Codru-Ji
Homeworld: Munto Codru
Profession: Doctor

Skills: Impressive medical skills and a wide knowledge of the anatomy of all species.

Possessions: Laser Scalpel, Needle and thread, Simple Brown Tunic and gloves, many Bacta Patches and Bacta Injections.

Appearance: Dyos is 1.5 metres tall with a slightly athletic build. He has dark bown eyes and hair which he prefers to keep short. All four of his arms are totally covered by long brown gloves and he wears a simple brown tunic with a belt to hold his possesions. His face is human like except for the long pointed ears and elongated mouth.

Personality: Dyos is a caring compassionate man hardened from many years of hiding. He willing gives Medical attention to anyone who needs it and has on occasion waved the fees to the desperate families he has met. His is fiercly protective of his son and will refuse to help anyone who disrespects him.

Personal History: Dyos was a respected doctor for his clan on Munto Codru. He had a wonderful life because of his lucrative position and had a loving wife Celik and a darling son Larra who was still in wyrwulf state. The Clans of Munto Codru ofter staged kidnapping to gain money or power. Being a doctor was a noble profession on Munto Codru but lacked status, during on of these mock kidnappings his wife Celik was minding the Clan leaders wyrwulfs as she often did and the kidnappers disposed of her in their haste. The loss of his wife torn a hole in Dyos' heart and he could not bear to go on. The lack of status meant to every single being on his planet his wife's life was worthless and everyone around continued on with their lives as if it was perfectly fine that this occured. Dyos could not stand to continue his life on this planet so he packed up his medical supplies and left with his son leaving all the memories and pain behind.


Dyos spent many moths working as a ship doctor for big frieght ships ,small smuggler ships even as a personal doctor on a cruiser. After many months he finally found his way to the Graveyard Station where he now works as a Doctor's assistant.He now spends most of his days helping to save people's lives and training his canine son in the ways of medicine and surgery.

Hopefully this is more to your liking, and the reason I picked Codru-Ji is because the Star Wars novel I am reading at the moment is The Crystal Star and they sounded really interesting with their werewolfesque metamorphisis. Didn't even notice the face that someone else posted a Codru-Ji character above hopefully that won't be a problem. I have no idea why it would be but please let me know if it is.

 

[Ruzzian Roulette]

Would love to reserve a spot, I'll be back to start a sheet soon.

EDIT: Nevermind, I'll be really busy the next few weeks, and I won't be able to participate to a point where my contributions would be timely and appropriate.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

Armcheesus, your character has...radical problems. The Empire has been gone for about 900 years, and galactic medicine is a little beyond herbal remedies, even with the restrictions on the flow of miracle drugs like bacta and kolto.

And just out of curiosity, why Codru-Ji?

 

[The Zango]

Spoiler

Name: Ruu Dazon

Age: 32

Gender: Male

Species: Twi'lek

Homeworld: Tatooine

Profession: Small time crime lord

Skills: Keen intellect and proficiency with blades

Possessions: Always carries a small pouch of Giggledust, a blaster pistol and a vibroblade

Appearance: Ruu is very thin for a Twi'lek and to some, even appears to be borderline emaciated. His poor appearance has been caused by his addiction to the narcotic, Giggledust, a type of spice he sells. Despite his generally thin frame, he is quite muscular and sports a variety of black and dark blue tattoos on his dark orange skin.

Personality: Ruthless, yet personable would be a phrase most people would use to describe Ruu, as in general he is one of the most epithetic, kind and just plain nice people there are, but when people take his good nature as a sign of weakness and try to use him, he is ruthless in his dealings and thinks nothing of past ties to the individual he is destroying, be it an emotional or physical destruction, and he shows no remorse for any of his actions.

He is surprisingly free willed for a being that grew up as a slave, and as such, rules have never been his forte. Luckily, breaking rule is another knack of his, which is another reason he has succeeded so well in his field of business.

Personal History: Born into slavery to a mighty Hutt gangster on Tatooine, it was clear from the star that Ruu would never have an easy life. His master was an abusive scumbag and often ordered his slaves beaten and humiliated for his amusement, but despite all his mistreatment, Ruu stayed optimistic and never allowed his torments to make him bitter.

At the age of 22, the Hutt that owned Ruu spotted his servants keen intellect and saw that there was an opportunity to make some money out of the young Twi'lek, and so, Ruu was freed in the loosest sense of the word.

After five years of steady advancement through the Hutts criminal network, Ruu was finally given the break he had always dreamed of and was given the responsibility of running the narcotics trade in and around Graveyard station, however, the time in the Hutts crime family had made Ruu ambitious and after only a year of operations under the Hutts, Ruu ceased giving his old master a cut of his profits, exiled all those loyal to his tormentor and switched his narcotics supplier, in what went down as one of the most ambitious coups in the history of the Hutts.

This move did not go down well with the Hutts and Ruu has found himself the targets of many assassination attempts over the years, though his unnatural luck and skill have seen him through many tough spots in the past and will surely see him through more in the future.

As I said in the RP guild, I'm very interested in this RP. Please consider this character an incredibly rough draft and the finished product will possibly end up nothing like Ruu. I apologise for any inconsistencies and mistakes in this character, as I'm currently in day four of the longest hangover I've ever had, hopefully it clears up soon so I can tweak this character to perfection.

Edit 1: Character tuned to be from a less obscure race and to be slightly less of a scumbag. Further tweaks coming.

Edit 2: Mostly done now, personality is in and I've cleaned up the sheet a little more. Here's hoping I get in

 

[bad rider]

Spoiler: hope its not too late

Name: William

Age: 20

Gender: Male

Species: Echani

Homeworld: Graveyard station

Profession: Pickpocket, thief, thug whatever pays the bills

Skills: William learnt to keep out of sight from a young age to keep from people who were looking for him. He learnt to move quickly and quietly, however stealing food from the less wary soon proved a dangerous and risky business. As he grew he followed the maintenance teams observing them from afar. With a little intuition and close calls, screwing with the security systems became easier and easier. Of course on occasion there were some traditionalists who stuck to more primitive locking methods, but after stabbing at them with sharp objects he finally got the knack of how to pick a lock.
Possessions: A knife and a blaster

Appearance: Standing at 5 ft 11 inches with white hair and silver eyes. He is lean rather and has very little bulk to him, at a cursory glance you would likely miss them but his skin has knicks and scratches from his everyday activities.

Personality: Wary and aggressive. He tends to be quiet around people, but that?s more due to a lack of friends, the people he deals with wouldn?t call him talkative, but would say he was friendlier than most. However, there is a disturbing correlation between people who have mocked him and people who have woken up drugged and beaten.

That said he seems to have a soft spot for the less well off, many refugees have found him useful for procuring food and water from, well best not tell. This streak comes from his own upbringing where he too struggled.

Personal History: Brought to the station at an early age he found himself alone. Maybe too much time has passed or maybe he chose to forget, but in either case his parents are mystery to him. Perhaps he went missing, did they search for him, maybe they died? After a year of searching, he chose to stop caring. They were gone and he needed to survive, that?s all there was. He spent his early life working with gangs and criminals. That didn?t work out, he often found himself in hot water and decided he would work alone. That didn?t work out well either, he then had criminals and security searching for him.
Eventually he landed in the refugee sector, where he took what he could from the supplies being handed round. It was easy game as many guards turned a blind eye to children taking food. However he grew up, supplies started being cut to the refugees. He had two choices, back to the gangs or go into business for himself. So he took up his own business, stealing supplies and selling them to refugees, with the occasional more specialised job. Of course even when he was young he understood what to and not to steal. Anything shiny, permanent, inedible was a big no. Food and water the evidence hid itself. A necklace, ores, that got you into a bind. If there was a buyer though, then it became someone else?s problem then it suited him just fine.
However one day he found himself working for a refugee and he found himself working a hardened crooks game, breaking into warehouses, breaking jaws and scaring the shit out of merchants who couldn?t pay up. Soon they became one of the gangs active on Graveyard. That was until the refugee who he worked for got caught. The gang tried to fill the vacuum and he left in the commotion.
Now he is looking for a way to ship out, unfortunately he has only ever known Graveyard Station, most of the universe he took a blind eye to. Where his next meal is coming from was always a bigger priority. Now though, he searches for a ship headed to Kuat.

 

[Fishtie]

Spoiler: V.2

Name: Danlo

Age: 21

Gender: Male

Species: Codru-Ji

Homeworld: Agamar

Profession: Grocer

Skills: Danlo can understand quite a variety of languages and can speak most of them as well. He's also a moderately shrewd businessman and has above average strength. Obviously he knows quite a bit about food too.

Danlo has some experience piloting atmospheric speeders, but has no experience with space or warp travel. He also knows a few hand to hand tricks and can use a gun well enough.

Possessions: A small store located on the DC-42 deck of the lower 4th quad (I have no idea how places on Graveyard Station are designated), as well as a modest stock and good credit. He has recently acquired an old beat up blaster.

Appearance: Danlo still has heavily tanned skin for someone now living on a station. He's a red head who keeps his hair trimmed pretty short. Danlo is often comented on having a rather kind face which is accented by his brown eyes.

Danlo stands about average in height and his build is pretty well muscled, a holdover from his farm days.

Danlo tends to keep his clothing lightweight. In particular he often ends up wearing a vest without a shirt as it's easier to make additional arm holes.

Personality: Danlo is warm and friendly. A bit of an innocent, and trusting due to his young age. Danlo is still filled with the fire of youth and tends to act before he thinks, particularly against perceived injustice. However, Danlo tends to not look very far away, more often ignoring large distant matters for more immediate ones.

While Dalo is mostly cheerful, he tends to shy away from getting very close to other people on a personal level and also tends to shy away from romantic relationships.

Personal History: Danlo's young life was quite the quiet one. He was born on Agamar in a large area of farms where a wide variety of species lived and worked. It was this kind of large family environment that caused him to learn the many languages that the many people had brought with them. It also fixed in his mind that all the races of the universe were basically equal if not the same.

However, near the outer rim law and order were at an all time low. In particular Danlo's home was routinely threatened by a group of raiders who would demand most of the community's food in exchange for their lives.

After many years of being kicked around by the bandits the people had had enough, but there was no way for them to fight back. So a plan was formed, Danlo would travel to the nearest space station to hire some mercenaries who could fight for them.

Danlo traveled to Graveyard Station and was eventually able to find seven fighters who would be willing to help.

Returning with the mercenaries they worked together not only to prepare the defenses but also to teach the farmers how to fight.

Eventually though the raiders returned and the mercenaries as well as the farmers engaged them in battle. Danlo helped by flying one of the farm airspeaders that had been refitted for combat.

After hard fighting the new militia succeed in killing the raiders and destroying their ship, however not without their own casualties. Among the dead were Danlo's father and the girl he was engaged too.

With nothing left to tie him to the planet, Danlo left the farm to his brother and headed for Graveyard Station to try and start a new life.

Danlo needed to do some kind of work and quickly noticed something. Plenty of ships brought food to the station, and plenty of people ate it; but the actual distribution was pretty arduous in places. So Danlo set up a small business buying and selling food and other goods. He has recently gotten an actual shop of his own.

Notes: For the record, Danlo is lower-right hand dominant.

Edited! Hope it's no longer 'boring'.
Though if it is then be sure and tell me.

 

[jSalamanca32]

Spoiler: The Merchant

Name: The Merchant
Age: 52
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Homeworld: Graveyard station
Profession: Arms Dealer
Skills: Extremely proficient with small arms, very charismatic. Very good at keeping order. Has decent piloting skills.
Possessions: A custom blaster pistol in his holster
Appearance: A man of average build. Hooked nose and grey hair, but severe burns on the left side of the face. Wears black, tight clothing with olive drab colored pieces of armor on his shoulders, chest, abdomen, forearms, and below the knee.
Personality: A bitter cynical man. Everything he does is cold and calculated. Not political, motivated by profit, thus neutral in most wars, but very manipulative.
Personal History: Born in the dirty grimy corridors of the graveyard station, The Merchant has always lived a hard life. His parents being killed by thugs left him with a resentment of aliens and hardened his resolve. He joined the military to try to do something with his life, and soon was fighting on the front lines. After being captured by his foes, he was tortured, and his captors burnt his face with acid. This destroyed what little of his humanity he had left, and soon after making an escape, he deserted the army.

Armed with the vast knowledge of weaponry he attained in the military, he started making a living buying and selling guns to gangs, thugs, citizens who wanted to defend themselves. His business started booming, and soon he was selling old combat droids. After he had become one of the most hated and powerful criminal warlords in the graveyard, he began selling entire stockpiles of vehicles, guns, and droids to both sides of the Duro-Fondor conflict.

Despite his many contacts throughout the Graveyard, Duro, and Fondor, no body gets close to him. He is known for not hiring neither aliens or humans for his his business, but rather using droids to do his bidding, out of fear of betrayal, and for their cold, logical nature.

He is the one stop shop for death on the graveyard. He is on an obsessive quest to find a light-saber, so common in rumors and folklore in Graveyard station.

Little is known to the general public about him, and no one knows his name. He is simply known to the gossips and frightened whispers in the Graveyard as The Merchant.

 

[socialtangent]

My sheet comes along. Apologies for the long wait.

 

[The Zango]

This still going on?

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

I've got a few people I'm waiting on.

 

[CounterAttack]

Spoiler: Character Sheet - Rec Sira

Name: Rec Sira
Age: 34 standard years
Species: Miraluka
Gender: Male
Homeworld: Tatooine

Appearance: Rec stands at average height for a Miraluka, though his physique is definitely above average; he is distinctly muscular as a result of his profession and training. His short brown hair is usually covered by his armour's helmet, and his eye-sockets are protected by a wide silver band wrapped around his head. What little skin you see of Rec past the helmet, armour and headband is slightly lighter than most human skin.

Rec can usually be seen wearing his standard body armour. The armour is composed of metal plating over a fabric underlay: it incorporates torso protection; light armour across all four limbs; combat boots; heavy gloves, into which Rec's pair of vibroblades are built; and a couple of holsters for his ranged weapons.

Personality: Rec does what he does for a living, rather than for glory or personal gain. He has no interest in killing anything or anyone purely for the sake of the kill or the reward offered, although he has had to take lives in his line of work in order to complete certain jobs. Rec's chief ideal in regards to combat is "shoot them if they shoot at you".

When not out on the hunt, Rec is generally a laidback kind of person, though if provoked he will not hesitate to teach someone a lesson in manners and leave them alive.

Profession: Big Game Hunter
Skills: Rec knows his way around weapons: he prefers to work with a sniper rifle at range and his vibroblades in melee, sometimes using one blade and his blaster pistol in combination. He also knows how to patch a man back up and get him on his feet again.

Possessions: Rec has a pair of knuckle-plate vibroblades built into his armour, used in close-quarter situations with his prey or climbing particularly large targets. He carries a heavy blaster pistol and sniper rifle for taking down a foe from a distance, and wears medium-toughness armour to retain speed and flexibility as well as a decent level of protection. In addition, Rec has a large medpac for use in case of injuries or wounded.

Personal History: Rec has been quoted as saying he was "born with a blaster in his hand". From an early age he was taught the skills his father, a hunter like himself, had known, and over the years of his youth he quickly made a few close friends in the same profession. These people, a group of five - Rec inclusive - soon followed him when he left his birth-world of Tatooine with his parents' blessing and a small starship he had earned with the proceeds of his hunts.

Rec and his followers traveled the galaxy for the next decade, seeking out the biggest and most difficult challenges to hone their skills and avoiding many a brush with the multitude of states vying for power. Felucia and Kashyyyk were the two locations Rec wished to visit, spending five years on each of the two worlds to fully search the planets for something to hunt, kill and sell to obtain cash and fuel for their ship. After Kashyyk had been thoroughly scoured for anything worth selling, Rec was of the impression that perhaps going it alone with no-one but his friends to back him up was not the way to go, especially since two of their number had died in the course of their work. They needed some form of employment. But he didn't like the idea of joining up with any of the states that were at edge with one another: he didn't want to take a risk that big and end up on the losing team.

A short debate later, Rec offered to give the rest of the group his ship and they would part ways. Having little to no piloting skill, he requested that in exchange, they drop him off somewhere where he could either learn how to pilot a ship himself, or meet up with someone who could provide that service. A droid would be no good, since mechanical beings have no connection to the Force. As such, he wouldn't know if a droid companion was present. With the terms agreed, Rec was dropped off on Graveyard Station with little more than a fair bit of money, his weapons and armour and the intention to make a new name for himself doing what he knew how to do: hunt and kill the biggest things in the galaxy.

Notes: Rec is fluent in Miralukese (his native language), Basic and Huttese.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

Alright, I'm tired of waiting. The RP begins now. I'm not closing entry yet, but you've all had plenty of time to write up sheets, so hurry up and finish before the window closes. Tick tock tick tock. If your character is in the 'Characters' section on the OP, you're in. If not, you're not.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Graveyard station could be an unpleasant place. Even at it's colossal size, capable of holding half a million people comfortably with enough docking space for every one of them, the place seemed empty and skeletal. Even when it had more people on the station than it's life support was rated to be able to handle, even when the space outside was thick with transports waiting to dock and take comfort in the relative safety of the station's hangars, it felt cold and lifeless, like the tragedy that had formed the Graveyard still haunted the station.

Valeric shivered as he walked down the hallways, shivering even under his thick coat of fur. With the life support strained already, they had apparently cannibalized non-essential heating units and converted them into scrubbers...somehow. Valeric was no technician, it wasn't really his greatest concern.

He stopped his pacing, coming to a viewport that suited him. He turned and stared out into space, wondering what he was going to do next. With Obroa-Skai out of his reach, he had nowhere to turn. In this galaxy, no one seemed terribly interested in the skills of an archaeologist.

Dark times.

* * *

"Transport LM-119 from Ord Mantell, you have authorization to dock in landing bay Theta. Follow the course we are transmitting."

"Thank you, Graveyard Station. Inbound to bay Theta."

A lone transport, indistinguishable from the dozens of others in the space surrounding the station began making it's approach to the station. Onboard were a little over three hundred passengers. Most of them would draw no attention and fit in fine on Graveyard Station

One, however, was a little more notable. A middle-aged Human woman stood tall and proud in a plain black robe, looking out a viewport at the growing station in silence. As it docked with the sound of clanks and the faint hum of magnetic clamps, she turned towards the airlock as it cleared.

"Form a line! Get out your identification and transit cards!"

She joined the line, and it quickly moved forward. A guard nodded to her as she walked up. She raised her hand, a blank sheet of paper in her hand. He looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. "Move along."

 

[blaze96]

Prenlarr was in the flight tower currently jury rigging the communications system. The constant strain on the system had caused a short that took out a few backup channels used when the mains were already full. Luckily since it was considered a non essential system he just had to get it up and running, without running a full diagnostic on the system. Luckily today was a slow day, well slow compared to most other days. The critical systems were up and running and everyone wasn't at risk of death in the next ten minutes, so it was a good day.

At least the work is challenging, if not because of the technology then because of the limited supplies. Turns out keeping this station up and running is often harder than the problems encountered in negotiations. he thought to himself with a chuckle. He finished right as yet another shuttle docked.

Looks like things will continue to be interesting. More mouths to feed means more challenges. Just when you think there could almost be a routine. With that thought he finished fixing the wiring and chip sets that had been damaged in the short with new ones made out of working pieces from previous breaks.

"Alright, you're all set." He said to the tower controller before patting him on the back and walking downstairs.

Hopefully a resupply of parts will come in soon, we can't keep this up forever as much as I wish I could. Guess I should head back to the repair bay, see what has come in. Prenlarr thought as he walked through the extremely stuffed corridors. He often found himself contorting just to walk through the hallways filled with refugees.

 

[CJ1145]

Spoiler: OOC/OP-related

It says there is too much text in the Characters spoiler to show.

 

[ultrachicken]

Rana sat slumped against the docking bay walls in a half-sleeping stupor. Her thoughts were hazy and incoherent, jumping randomly through memories and figments of her imagination. The chill air bit at her through the thin, strung together tatters which formed her meager clothing. Her belly ached for a warm meal.

The dissonance of the transport slamming against the dock's metal floor shook Rana awake. Her dull, red eyes sprung to life. She had been waiting for this; hundreds of people concentrated into a small area, perfect for begging. Rana stumbled clumsily to her feet and slogged towards the line currently being filtered across the deck. In truth, she felt capable of bounding lightly towards her destination, but such a performance would not aid her search for charity.

Rana cupped her pale blue hands and held them outwards, subconsciously repeating pleas for credits as though she were an automaton. She felt the occasional depression in her palms of a coin landing, but so far the spoils were few.

A few minutes later, one of the men in charge of the line, a burly human, caught on to the weary Duro. "Get out of here before I call the authorities!" he hissed maliciously. Rana fled immediately, though not before catching a glimpse of the mysterious cloaked woman. However, she paid no mind, as she had more pressing matters at hand.

Rana flopped back down into her sitting position and wearily counted her earnings. Enough to get by for the next day or two, but that hot meal would have to wait. She viciously cursed the station under her breath and resumed dozing off, clutching her loot tightly as she did so.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

They were here. The ones she had traveled so far, so long to find. The Force had brought them together. The Force was still with her, even after all this hardship. The thought brought a faint smile to the cloaked woman's face, a spring to her step. She had not failed.

As she walked, she felt her gaze shifting to a Duros, one of perhaps a dozen or more beggars making their rounds. None of them were likely to get much. A refugee transport isn't exactly bringing high-stakes gamblers and businessman, it's bringing refugees. Still...this one Duros managed to somehow persuade the weary and desperate people in the transport to part with a small handful of credits

"Credits will do you no good here." She knew the situation in Graveyard already. The people were shouting it so loud in their minds it was difficult to -not- hear it. Beyond that, she had eyes to see and ears to hear, and what she saw and heard was desperation. The air was cold, with a musty taste to it. It didn't take her long to guess the origin of the problem - heating units being scrapped and modified into scrubbers. They tended to do a poor job, but in this situation, a bad job is better than mass deaths from oxygen deprivation. Beyond that, she could sense the fear, the desperation, the fact that this station was packed with seven hundred thousand men, women, and children, with life support intended to support perhaps eighty percent of that.

What a charming situation.

The beggars were quickly chased away by one of the docking authorities, but something was special about this Duros. She was one of the bright spots. She couldn't sense them across the station, but when she could see them...yes. She was one.

Under other circumstances, the woman might have been surprised at a pitiful beggar having a special destiny, but the Force had mysterious methods. She turned to follow the Duros at a safe distance, waiting for her to stop and go into a doze against the hangar facility's walls. Just waiting for the next ship to beg for aid.

It was a trivial trick to let the girl slip from a doze into a proper sleep. Long enough for an examination. The cloaked woman reached out a hand and touched the Duros on the scalp, sending a probe into the girl's mind. If she did this right - and she was - the girl would be aware of nothing except a vague tingle in her mind.

The voices. She could hear them in the girl's mind. The quiet whispers, too quiet and strange to make out. The voice of the Force, whispering to her the special destiny. Her mind was too loud, too chaotic to even notice them.

"You're the first one."

She removed her hand from the girl's head, then pulled her out of her sleep, waiting until her eyes open and fixed on her.

"Hello...I'm here to offer you a chance at something more than a slow death on this station."

 

[The Zango]

"Listen here, there is no frakking reason to go about killing them, we got out shipment back and the boys taught a lesson to those schutta, I've taken their wills, I'm not taking their lives"

Ruu Dazon was a fair being, the levels of kindness he displayed towards others varied, but he was always fair, never taking more than he was due, or delivering punishment where it was not deserved. This fairness was one of the reasons he had done so well on Graveyard station, after all, its always harder to kill a drug runner when he is protected by a tide of good will and loyal help, than a two-bit backstabber without a friend in the galaxy.

However, sometimes this fairness made things difficult, as it was a hard concept to grasp for the less intellectually able beings in his small, but profitable organisation, some of his underlings didn't grasp the concept of fair and even treatment and it made his job difficult at times like this. He didn't blame them though, as most of the beings working for him hadn't been treated fairly in their lives, as was the sad truth of the galaxy.

"They stole a shipment of giggle! They disrespected you and your going to let them walk away with nothing but a slap on the wrist?" replied Tezin the Zabrak, one of Ruu's more violent underlings, a good person to have on your side, but a hard person to control.

"The leaders wont be 'walking' any time soon, I think thats more than a slap on the wrist" joked Ruu in response, as he tapped some giggledust onto his table infront of him into a small line, looking up at Tezin impatiently once a sizeable line was laid out.

"We're done here, take no further action"

"If you say so Ruu, but when people start hitting us cuz we are soft targets, I'll be there to say I t-" began the Zabrak, before he was silenced by the sound of a loud snort, followed by a small cough.

"Goodbye Tezin"

Ruu span around in his chair a couple of times, before stopping it in position to face the holoscreen to the right of his desk. The giggle dust was already beginning to take its effect when Ruu tapped a few buttons on his desk, causing the screen to light up and display his favourite comedy holo and so, as the screen lit up with the same vid that had been played a thousand times before, Ruu's office began to echo with loud, resonating laughter.

Spoiler: OOC

Thanks for allowing me into the RP, heres hoping for a long and engaging RP. However I have an issue, I'm heading off on holiday today and I'm not sure if I can secure an internet connection where I'm going, so my character might have to be auto'ed until next friday when I get back. Sorry guys :/

 

[CounterAttack]

Rec Sira, Miraluka game hunter, sat in the one remaining cantina of Graveyard Station, having accepted the offer of a meeting with someone who claimed to be an associate of the Republic of Fondor, and had mentioned employment in his line of work. Rec was surprised to find that the owner of the place had decided to remain in business, after hearing second-hand that all of the others had left the space station. The supposed associate was human, and with him came oh-so-human flaws: greed, money, power. Rec had been born into a family that stuck with the traditions of the Miraluka race: nothing they did was selfish, miserly or greedy.

He felt something strange about this man; knowledge of his connection to the Force, the idea of which he had accepted since he was a small child, explained some feelings he got occasionally, and this one was similar to others he had seen. Experience told Rec that this man was a cheat, intending to swindle him out of either his money, weapons or both.

"I'm telling you, this is the opportunity of a lifetime," the human pressed, leaning forward slightly as he spoke. Rec did not see this movement: rather he 'saw' the change in the faint aura of the Force that surrounded the blunt - slang among his family back on Tatooine for a non-Force-sensitive - man. "You'll be working alongside some of the finest troops the galaxy has to offer. You could be sergeant of your squad in a month; second lieutenant in three. So what d'ya say, buddy? Up for a life better'n anything you'll find here?"

Rec paused, turning his head slightly to properly face the slightly dirty - though he couldn't see that - man, and spoke in a voice almost devoid of expression, as he normally did when negotiating. "You promised me employment as a game hunter. That is not the proposition I am hearing. And I am not your 'buddy'. You offered me a soldier's job. Let me assure you I have considerable skill with my weapons of choice: I could kill you right now and no-one would see a thing. That hand you have under the table, presumably curled around a blaster pistol, will do you no good. Don't think I don't see it." The threat of death was a bluff on his part: Rec never took the life of a sentient being unless he was forced to, or attacked with intent to kill.

"I believe we are done here. Your offer is ludicrous and I will not have contact with you again." Not bothering to grace the swindler with an 'excuse me' or 'goodbye', Rec slipped out from the shabby booth in which the meeting had taken place, got up and made to leave the cantina. He was stopped by a sudden hand reaching out to impede him, and a quiet threat in Huttese. "You'd best be reconsidering what my friend has to say. Kevad doesn't suffer fools gladly." Hired muscle. Easily intimidated by a blade or pistol.

In response, the game hunter lifted his left hand and flicked the wrist. He was rewarded with the familiar snick as the vibroblade in the gauntlet extended, and the faint buzz of the vibrations within the weapon. "And nor do I," Rec stated in the same language, the faintest hint of menace in his voice. "If you don't want to lose the functions of one of your vital organs, you'll move out of my way."

The muscle retracted his hand and allowed Rec to leave, which he promptly did, having no intention of staying any longer. He began to thread his way back to his living quarters through the packed corridors of the space station, ignoring the pleas for money, food or countless other things that he had heard many a time before. Pickpockets were aplenty on Graveyard Station, but Rec had long since learned to hide his valuables where a thief or looter would least expect to find them.