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(3 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Sathik looked down at the ground despondently with the one eye that wasn’t swollen shut when whatever magical event he was waiting for didn’t happen.  Just as he went to finish off the bottle in his hand with a final swig, the cantina door burst open. The bounty hunter looked up excitedly, a shameless smile across his bruised face with blood splatter still visible on his angular features under the dim lights hanging over the bar.

The smile quickly changed into abject horror.

Sathik quickly whirled around to face the blonde sitting next to him and swore under his breath. He strategically moved his body to hide Lola from the view of the cantina entrance.

“What is it?” Lola’s large mass of blonde curls floating around her head moved gently from the even the slightest motion she gave while speaking.

Sathik put a black-gloved hand up in a futile attempt to hide his face as he spoke in a low voice, “Guavian death gang. On the count of three, we hop over the counter and get to the back—”

A large metallic prosthetic hand that whirred with the sound of servos in motion suddenly grabbed the filthy, dark haired bounty hunter’s shoulder and spun him around on the bar stool.

Sathik frowned up at the cybernetically enhanced gangster that towered over him.

The Guavian death gang member had a completely mechanical left arm up to his bicep, cybernetic implants on the left side of his grim tribal tattooed face, and a cybernetic left eye that glowed with an ominous red light. He wore the red and black high impact Gorget armor typical of the ruthless gang. The gangster stayed arm’s reach away from the and had both hands on his rifle as he sized up the bounty hunter on the barstool with a disgusted grimace.

“I know you from somewhere, don’t I?” The cybernetically enhanced gangster asked with displeasure.  Two more armored gangsters stood silently Behind their more obviously cybernetically enhanced leader. They were faceless in notorious red masks marked only with a black swirl and held matching sawed-off percussion rifles pointed at the floor.

“I helped with the Black Sun clean up your boss did on the old Imperial Installation on Gall.” Sathik set the still frosted-over bottle he had been drinking on the bar but didn’t take his hand off it. His slender fingers dragged the glass against the wood idly in a circular motion, “I remember seeing you there. They call you ‘Grave’ right?”

“Graves.” The gangster corrected and spoke with disgust that contorted the tribal tattoos on his face, “I knew I recognized the smell. You fit right in with that Black Sun garbage.”

Sathik smugly held his gloved hands out with an unashamed shrug, “Can’t knock good camouflage.”

“So, do you want to tell me where a two-bit bounty hunter such as yourself found a girl like that?” The gangster called Graves interrogated darkly.

“That’s a girl?” Sathik pointed a thumb disbelievingly behind himself at the blonde, “Could have fooled me.”

Sathik smiled wickedly at the glare Lola gave him before looking back at the cybernetically enhanced gangster.

“You really thought that you could get away with human replica droid in plain sight?” Graves pointed his rifle threateningly at Sathik’s chest, making a motion with his prosthetic hand in Lola’s direction.

“Ohhhhhh, that’s the new Tostovin isn’t it?” Sathik gazed at the illegal percussion rifle in Grave’s hand with obvious *want*.

“Oh, yeah, you want a better look?” The gangster shifted his grip on the rifle to show it to the bounty hunter, only to change his motion suddenly and  crack it down in a ruthless swing against the side of the bounty hunter’s skull.

Sathik sat there, wincing, until turning his head to look he saw that Lola had grabbed the barrel of the rifle and stopped it mere centimeters from his ear.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, Graves.” Lola was standing now, and when the gangster tried to pull back the rifle it didn’t move from where it was held in the blonde’s flawless and deceptively delicate looking hand.

The two other Guavian death gang soldiers raised their rifles at the bounty hunter and the human replica droid.

“WAIT!” Sathik put his hands out frantically with a shout that caused everyone to pause and look.

“Fellas, look,” The bounty hunter stood with his hands still out between him and the armored gangsters, “I know you’re upset and you’re just trying to do your job, but go ahead and surrender and I *promise* you’ll get preferential, bordering on gentle…possibly even lover like treatment.”

The cybernetically enhanced death gang soldiers stared.

“No?” Sathik looked them all over and then a mischievous grin spread across his face, “Fine.”

The black-haired bounty hunter twisted away from the percussion rifle next to him as it fired and while using Graves as cover from the other two gangsters, he pulled out a large knife scarred and serrated knife that had come from seemingly nowhere. Sathik sunk the large knife into Grave’s mechanical arm and flicked a switch that sent an explosive jolt of electricity that sparked along the mechanical arm.

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(3 replies, posted in Role Playing)

[OOC] I suppose I should have been more clear about leaving an open invitation. Come one, come all! Mercs, bounty hunters, smugglers, and maybe any of you "heroes" if you dare. Let's get the party in the Cantina going! Time period is Ep 7. Feel free to come and socialize with your latest character idea as you please smile Fly casual! [/OOC]

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(3 replies, posted in Role Playing)

The dimly lit cantina was almost entirely deserted. Smoke swirled in the near stagnant air from a trio of ithorians seated in a corner. They were smoking from an elaborate device in a the center of their table. The device bubbled more loudly than the low sub sonic tones of their non-humanoid communication.

The bartender was a grizzled, gray-furred bothan with a myriad of scars and a patch over one eye. The bothan was cleaning his teeth with a large knife and occasionally drinking from a tall glass of corellian ale.

Aside from the ithorians the only other patrons were two humanoids sitting on stools at the far end of the bar.

One of the humanoids was a tall, lithe, and dark-haired human with angular features. He shook a large bottle with his gloved finger over the top. The mechanical agitation reactivated the chemical reaction within and a thin layer of ice formed around the outside of the bottle. He took took a deep swig and then exhaled with an unsurprised grimace.  A cloud of ice crystals poured from his breath.

The dark-haired human wore the typical garb of freelance mercenary: battle-scarred light armor, a filthy gray scarf hanging around his neck, and probably everything he owned strapped somewhere on his body. The most notable of his possessions was an archaic scattergun with a sawed-off barrel holstered at his thigh.

The filthy merc was also covered in blood that was in various phases of clotting and drying. His left eye was bruised and swollen shut. He moved stifly and painfully, like he had just been in a severe speeder accident

The blonde female sitting next to the filthy merc seemed entirely out of place in the grimy cantina. She sat with perfect posture, wearing a black long-sleeved dress with almost no skirt that hugged her long, flawless legs. She looked like she belonged in an upper city nightclub on Coruscant.

The female humanoid's eyes were almost entirely obscured by a huge mass of golden blonde curls that fell on her shoulders like a mantle.

"Sathik, you need medical treatment," the blonde spoke in a low and judgmental tone.

"What do you think I'm doing?" Sathik scoffed mischievously and took another drink. The merc gave a long sigh filled with ice crystals. He slouched contentedly in the barstool and leaned heavily on the bar.

"Sathik--" The blonde started.

"Sssshhhhhh." The merc put a single black-gloved finger over her full lips, "I'm drinking, Lola." He took another drink and this time had almost no grimace at all.

Lola forcefully moved the merc's gloved hand away from her face,"Sathik, you have *brain* damage."

"Probably why I'm feeling nostalgic." Sathik set the bottle down heavily with another sigh. He looked over the empty cantina with the good eye that wasn't swollen shut, "This place used to be full of the meanest bounty hunters, mercs, and assassins this side of the galaxy."

Lola inclined her head and her giant mass of yellow curls shifted as she listened to the reminiscing merc.

"You wouldn't believe what we used to get up too," Sathik grinned , "Did I ever tell you I worked with a *Jedi* once?"

Lola blinked her thick black lashes once without signs of being impressed.

"This is the kind of place where anything could happen..." Sathik glanced at the door and then downed another swig from the bottle.

[OOC] I hope you all had a happy holidays! [/OOC]

“Metzel??” Lenovar turned and called out to the downed human obscured by the retreating herd. Lenovar didn’t know the name of the field hand still covering the pirate ship with his blaster and cautiously scanning for the owner of the dewback herd.

“Metzel!” Lenovar gritted his teeth when there was no response. The Journeyman Protector had already been awarded a far too uncomfortable amount of community service for the collateral damage he had caused in his “negligence of the community” while running down lawbreakers.

Don’t be dead. Come on, don’t be dead. Lenovar groaned inwardly as he moved toward the pirate ship with his shotgun, Luci, ready and aimed up at eye level.

The sound of the freighter’s engines suddenly dying as the last two members of the pirate crew (A burly trandoshan and a one-eyed human) retreated aboard brought a pleased smirk to the Protector’s face.

“Chiss?!” Lenovar called out as well. Wait, was the boy’s name? Jrink? Brinkstin?

“Brastin?!” Lenovar called out almost entirely certain that was the blue humanoid’s name. It was when Lenovar looked away from the freighter that the HUD of his helmet blipped a proximity warning too late. He turned his helmet back towards the pirate ship just as the impossibly quick four-legged HWND droid lept and bit down on the Mandalorian’s gauntlet with crushing vibro-teeth.

Lenovar was thrown to the ground as he tried to fend off the hunting droid with his armored gauntlet. The vibro-teeth clashing on the armor made an unnatural growling noise. The Protector swung his armored boot and connected solidly with the droid’s mid-section. Momentarily the droid was thrown from its clawed mechanical feet but the powerful jaws didn't loose from Lenovar’s arm in the slightest.

The armored weave of Lenovar’s fingertips on his free hand barely kissed his fallen slug thrower just as he was jerked savagely away from his weapon across the rough ground. The flamethrower on the side of his gauntlet was crunched down to nothing as the droid began to drag the Protector by his arm.

With a snarl of rage, Lenovar pulled the large knife from the sheath across his stomach shoved it into the droid’s canid head with every amount of force he could muster. The droid’s servos whined shrilly as they shrieked to a halt. The droid went limp and clattered loudly to the ground--without loosening the hold of its jaws on the arm of the Mandalorian. 

“Feir’fek SHEBS krif!” Lenovar let loose a slew of Mandalorian curses as he nearly dislocated his own shoulder trying to pull himself free of the mechanical jaws anchoring him to the immense dead weight of the armored canid hunting droid.

The red-headed human in the cockpit looked over a freckled nose through the set of spectacles at the proximity read out. The tiniest of lights suddenly blipped into existence in the outermost circle of the grid. The thin human damn near had a heart attack.

“P-P-Protector! Protector!!!” The human scrambled out of the cockpit shrieking.

When the ginger finally scrambled to the freighter’s landing ramp, the thin human tripped on untied boot laces; still screaming shrilly over the sound of speeder bikes and more than unhappy Dewbacks, “PROTECTOR! The Protectors are coming!”

The pirate captain raged, “What are you doing down here then?! Go start up the ship!”

Craden turned with abject horror to the horizon.

Beyond the stamping and moaning Dewbacks, the screaming speeder bikes, and the dismal gray plains; a low cloud of dust marked the approach of The Protector and the Unproven.

The rangefinder on the side of The Protectors black and shineless helmet lowered to the side of the T-shaped visor. Lenovar spoke into the pickup on the set of controls of his right gauntlet, “Lenovar on scene at the gray plains. Armed robbery in progress.”

Lenovar tore over the bleak landscape, the sparse vegetation trembling in his wake as he charged toward the pirates.

“No need for back up.” Lenovar smirked under his helmet.

The second Twi’lek was turning for a second pass at Rogan when he saw the Mandalorian in black armor. With a smile of jagged teeth, he turned his speeder bike towards the Protector and began wildly firing the blaster cannon outfitted in the front of his more than likely stolen vehicle.

Lenovar’s armored speeder bike vibrated from the blaster fire, until he returned in kind—with far more deft accuracy. The Twi’lek flew off the speeder bike like a rag doll, while his vehicle whined and then crunched uselessly to the ground.

The Mandalorian armored in black stopped his speeder bike and dismounted before he got too close to the herd of frenzied Dewbacks. He charged through the maze of lizard flesh, using the scattered Dewbacks for cover as he made his way closer to the freighter. 

Two human pirates on opposite sides of the herd moved their speeder bikes with the intent of running down the Journeyman Protector. Lenovar launched the grappling hook in his left gauntlet into the speeder bike’s front directional vanes. With an enormous two-handed pull that snapped the directional vane off, the thickly muscled Mandalorian was able to change the speeder’s trajectory enough to collide into the other human’s speeder bike in a loud clash of metal and fire.

By this time Lenovar realized he was in the sights of the immense Devaronian…and Lenovar felt an almost imperceptibly small and unfamiliar pang of regret over his current lack of a ranged weapon. He pulled the sawed-off slugthrower fearlessly from the holster at his side and steeled himself as though ready to absorb the heavy blaster fire.

The blaster fire went wild over the Mandalorian’s black helmet and the Devaronian stumbled backwards. The HUD display in Lenovar’s helmet showed where the fire came from. The reluctant mentor grumbled to himself as he walked toward one of the humans he had caused to crash writhing and screaming on the ground. Lenovar silenced the thief with a solid kick to the head. 

That was when Lenovar saw the Chiss CHARGE one of the remaining Trandoshans.

The engines of the freighter hummed and jerked violently to life.
Lenovar’s HUD showed the remaining pirates were retreating into the freighter’s massive cargo bay.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Lenovar growled to himself and forced his way through a pair of retreating Dewbacks. He fired on the human lagging the farthest behind. The slug collided with the speeder bike’s repulsor lift engine and the bike and human erupted in a fiery ball of metal flak and flesh.

Lenovar’s T-shaped visor immediately tinted itself against the flash of light and returned to the normal vision setting. The pirates were thrown forward from the explosion, the other remaining human being thrown free of his speeder bike and onto the landing pad.

The pirate captain was almost to the cockpit with his four-legged hunting droid in tow when he heard the freighter’s engines suddenly sputter and die.

“No. No. No. No. Nooo!” The pirate roared as he climbed up a set of metal stairs, “Jackdaw! You said those entry couplings would hold for another week!”

“That was six months ago, Captain!” The ginger in the pilot seat yelled, desperately and uselessly still attempting to restart the freighter.

[OOC: Happy Thanksgiving Fett Fans!! Also, don’t be afraid to create any parts of the academy and the planet. I don’t have anything solid in mind because I like to see what everyone contributes. I feel it’s the mark of a really good Roleplayer if they can easily incorporate what others create. I hope you guys don’t mind if I create additional characters due to the current lack of players. Any character is up for grabs that doesn’t have a character sheet filled out /OOC]

The tall Weapons Keeper wore gray and dust-colored female Mandalorian armor armed with a very, very rare Mythosaur Axe in a holster diagonally across her back and (there were rumors) only one eye. None of the current novices had ever seen the face or were sure of the species of the aged female behind the T-shaped visor that stretched down into a shape that resembled a grim frown.

With inhuman speed, she quickly drew a pistol and pointed it at Jastin.

Before the Unproven Chiss could react the end of the pistol flashed red and beeped as it scanned the barcode of the mid-range rifle hanging on the wall behind the Chiss. She scanned and handed the remaining equipment that Jastin had selected like any arbitrary librarian might and waved the Unproven toward the heavily armed exit guarded with automatic turrets.

Once a novice became Unproven they were allowed all the weapons they could carry…at the Weapon’s Keeper’s discretion. However, ammunition and consumable weapons (such as grenades) were rationed according to rank…or how much the Weapon’s Keeper liked you… which was generally little to none.

Damaged or lost weapons had to be paid for in hard labor if the offender didn’t have the credits. The armory was enveloped in a paddock with an energized fence and adjacent to the barracks and the Vehicle depot. There were twenty speederbikes that ranged from near-new to messes of almost seemingly incompatible parts.

There, Lenovar latched a speederbike’s saddlebags shut after checking on the overniht gear and canteens inside. When Jastin arrived, whether Lenovar approved or disapproved of the Unproven’s selection in weapons he gave no sign.

“Grab a speeder and keep up, boy.” Lenovar revved the engine of the speederbike, “Mandalore knows, I ain’t waitin for you.”

Brink’s newly appointed mentor sped off into the bleak landscape in the direction of the coordinates given by dispatch.

Not far away, at Metzel's herd...

The sound of energy whips crackled in the air. Dewbacks groaned and stamped unhappily at being interrupted in their...Dewbackness.

While most Mandalorians held fast to a deep tradition of honor, Craden Hett was as far from honorable as they come. The two-bit pirate had been born within a day's walk of where he stood now at the foot of the ramp of the weaponized freighter that barely passed as a pirate ship. Which meant he knew exactly which poor souls were trying to make a living and how.

The dirty, bearded pirate wearing a huge trench coat to hide how thin he was and a bandoleer of grenades was little more than a thief with a knack for wriggling out of trouble like a stinging river eel.

In place of his right hand there was a curved vibrodagger.

His starving and grumbling crew were a motley of species. Two Trandoshans, four humans, and two twin blue Twi'leks were riding speeder bikes and using energy whips to herd Dewbacks toward the freighter, and an unnaturally large Devaronian with one horn broken off and a heavy blaster that could have almost passed for a canon. There was also young and very nervous  human pilot  in the cock pit of the ship with a mess of short cropped red curls and cleaning a pair of spectacles and watching the ship's sensors--ready to yell when any sign of the Protectors appeared

"Get a move on! Do you want to be here when the Protector's show up?!" Craden spat off to the side, hand on the blaster pistol at his side. Next to the pirate's muddied boots sat a four legged canid HWND hunting droid over a meter tall with vibroteeth bared and ready.

That was when the blaster fire drew the pirate's attention. Craden laughed when he saw the opposition.

"Give 'em a run for their money boys!!" Craden whooped.

The Twin Twi'leks were closest to Rogan and his field hand. They grinned with jagged-pointed teeth, cracked their intimidating energy whips and sped towards the two humanoids.

Just as the Adjudicator raised the second blue sash to announce the next Unproven, an alert blipped in the HUD of the helmets of the Journeyman Protectors. The tell-tale sound of the Protector’s proximity alert channel made Lenovar’s little dark and tainted heart start racing with giddy excitement.

The voice over the channel was sultry and obviously female even through the static. She spoke to the point in a series of dramatic sighs, “Energy discharges up by the Metzel herd west of the cliffs. It doesn’t look like it was the raiders from last night, more like it’s just thieves lookin’ to relieve Metzel of a few more lizards.”

The courtyard went silent and everyone looked to the Adjudicator with anticipation.

The Adjudicator straitened, a smirk forming on his scarred and chapped lips, “Lenovar, take your brand shiny new Unproven to the armory and get riding out there.”

The excitement in Lenovar fell like a massive meteor crashing to the surface of an unsuspecting world.

“You…want...ME…to mentor…THAT?” Lenovar growled pointing an armored gauntlet at Brink.

“Better get started.” The Adjudicator angled his head and narrowed his eyes grimly.

Lenovar tightened his fists quickly until his knuckles cracked.
Even he would not dare defy the Adjudicator.

“GET A MOVE ON, CHISS!” Lenovar shouted through the voice amplifier of his helmet back at the blue-sashed Unproven as he began stalking toward the armory where the speeder bikes and a vast array of weapons were ready for use.

Yes I understand why the toy company wouldn't have taken the effort to get the actual actor, and that there are plenty of people who don't know the difference between a New Zealand accent and an Australian one. The inner snob in me refuses to allow them to get away with that mistake. tongue

I think I would love to see that expanded upon. A spin-off for Fett would be really scary in general, but I like to think of it as a chance for redemption. Authors like Karen Traviss did a really amazing job of dealing with aspects of the Clone Wars and even the Yuuzhan Vong era that really allowed me to love a lot about Star Wars again.

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(7 replies, posted in Role Playing)

MEEELLLL!!!!! So glad to see you back around the boards! I hope you have been well! Yeah, I'm finally out of the Navy and itching to get back to writing. Whatever you have time for is fantastic. It'll be exciting to meet some new writers as well.

Oh my god, I totally found that helmet in Washington...amd pardon me if I'm incorrect, but the voice sounded AUSTRALIAN rather than like from New Zealand.

Seriously?

I'm a huge snob when it comes to Fett's voice though. I refuse to watch the new editions of Star Wars because I know they have Temura Morrison's voice vice the original.

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(7 replies, posted in Role Playing)

I do think it is cool how many zombie-related RPG threads there have been (Definitely one of my personal favorite themes).

I know the chat room already has the bar scene monopolized...but I feel like a thread with a similar theme would allow more time to pass but keep on topic. It would also be a great reference spot for people to learn about character building and use without having to worry about having to fit a particular story line.

Anyone else share similar thoughts?

That really does seem to be the popular consensus. Although the idea of a mad-scientist type Sith is kind of cool. Have you read the new Plagueis book that came out?

The Training Grounds (Also known as “The Adjudicator’s Seat”) lay inside a shallow canyon with towering slate cliffs on the north side and a dismal desert cheered sparingly with low green plant life and skeletal trees to the south. Seven Journeyman Protectors stood behind the Adjudicator in the wide open courtyard. They wore red sashes and full armor clean from the rain from earlier.

One of them was named Lenovar.

Name: Lenovar
Age: 29
Sex: Male
Species: Mandalorian Human
Appearance: Lenovar was easily two meters tall (6”) with dark tan skin and darker hair. His dark hair was kept short in practical military fashion. His clean shaven face showed his skill with the large knife the size of his forearm that he kept in a sheath horizontally across his broad stomach and above his belts of slug thrower shells. He had a deep scar just below the center of his bottom lip that very nearly resembled a narrow patch of hair. His armor is dark gray. On his right side he wore a large slug thrower with the barrel almost entirely sawed off and the name “Lucy” engraved elegantly on the side.
Brief History: The son of the wealthy Governor Purton, Lenovar has always been privileged to finer weapons and armor then most laymen. His crudeness and general lack of social niceties were only made up for by his skills in the arts of violence. He is honored and respected among the Protectors for his abilities and accomplishments in dealing with criminals, Devaronian raiders, and even a band of galactic pirates seeking shelter on the wrong planet. While effective, some consider his actions “excessive” in the name of the Law.

“Jastin Brink!” The Adjudicator snarled loudly with only the slightest trace of a smirk belying his pride for the Chiss as he tied the blue sash around the Unproven’s waist. He bound the thick cloth tightly firmly.It had no hanging elaborations to get caught or tangled in battle. It was such a simple thing. Truly, it resembled little more than a colorful belt – but on this world, it was quickly recognized with respect and a healthy amount of fear.

Journeyman Protector Lenovar nodded to himself at the sound of boy’s name being called out.

“The boy is functional enough in a battle,” he admitted grudgingly to himself, “…Even if he is a Chiss.”

Lenovar, of course, still had yet to find out that he was going to be the one put in charge of mentoring the three new Unproven Protectors.


[OOC: Welcome Kynreaver! Glad you could join!

On another note, I totally made a mistake but will fix it in my previous post. I said that the roaming Journeyman Protectors wear brown, but that was before I had the chance to look at some old pictures and see that Boba Fett actually wears the red sash. So, Protectors (Which are Concord Dawn’s equivalent of a Sheriff) that are assigned to a particular territory will be the ones who wear the brown sash.

I am trying to keep this RPG as canon as I can make it. However, I will be taking some artistic freedoms. I have trouble visualizing Journeyman Protectors as a bright clean and shiny organization. Concord Dawn is a wild frontier on the outer rim and life is a struggle. It’s dirty, battle-scarred and doesn’t always match. I really love that grungy feel of the original trilogy so I’ll be holding as close to that as I can. If anyone is bothered by something, let me know and I’ll see about fixing it.

I am drawing inspiration for this thread from Tales of the Bounty Hunters and Wookiepedia (For your referencing pleasure) /OOC]

Chewbacca. By far. I really respect an actor who can handle that strong of a role without speaking English or the ability to use facial expression. He was really fantastic.

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(31 replies, posted in Fans)

I love Love LOVE Breaking Bad. It is such a well written show. I am currently following Walking Dead as well (Because I have a huge zombie fascination). Firefly, of course, is one of my all time favorites. I also love Farscape, Star Trek Voyager, Doctor Who (Almost, seriously as much as Star Wars), Fringe is fantastic, and the very classic Who's Line Is It Anyway holds a special place in my heart.

I absolutely believe that is what they have alluded to in the prequels. I read somewhere that Anakin only became limited in his ability because of less actual biological components (Which meant an overall smaller amount of midichlorians). I haven't read the book on Plagueis but I'm sure that is somewhere along the lines of where it leads to.

Its an interesting concept but I don't feel "The Force" ever had to be explained and that the theory of midichlorians cheapens is some.

CONCORD DAWN WANTS YOU TO BE A JOURNEYMAN PROTECTOR!

It was a cold, gray morning in the courtyard where the current novices stood in their training armor. Their  "armor" was little more than weighted training clothes (Actual Mandalorian armor was hard to come by and   was only awarded to Protectors). The motley assembly of adults, small children, and awkward teens stood in formation yawning, with tired and hollow eyes.

It had rained hard the night before, during the raid.

The Adjudicator who presided over the Protectors was a grizzled and gray-haired Mandalorian human with a face as weathered as the faded armor he wore.

“After the events of last night, three new Protectors have been named – to ride as Unproven,” The Adjudicator growled through scarred vocal cords. He wore the tell-tale sign of a Protector – A red sash cloth under his gun belt. Protectors who were awarded specific territory wore red. Brown sashes went to the Journeyman Protectors. Journeyman Protectors were not limited by “jurisdiction” and roamed the uncivilized landscape enforcing the law, hunting fugitives and keeping the peace of Concord Dawn.

It was a somber graduation ceremony. The only decorations in place were the dark bloodstains across the faded gray pavement; from raiders and novices alike that had been killed the night before. After the trials and training they had endured, they would have felt cheated…that is if they had been able to feel anything beyond utterly exhausted.

“You have earned your weapons. You have earned your armor. You have earned the cloth of the Protector!” The Adjudicator raised a long blue cloth – The sash of the Unproven Protector. It was theirs to wear as they rode alongside and were mentored by a Proven Journeyman Protector until they earned the honor to wear the red or the brown… or merely proved they were unworthy of being Protector at all.


[OOC: Welcome to Concord Dawn! Come join the struggles and hardships of the wild frontier of this uncivilized world in the Outer Rim! Join as one of the newly appointed Unproven Protectors (3 openings only) and describe yourself as you select your Mandalorian armor and weapons from the Armory and hit the road with your new mentor.

You may also play as farmer or settler of Concord Dawn and get your own homestead going. Play as an established Protector and sheriff over your own town and territory or as an offworlder with your own unique story and agenda.

Just try to not get eaten alive by the harsh creatures, the elements, or those sentient species cutting out a life for themselves on the uncivilized world of Concord Dawn, or worse, those that keep the unforgiving laws of it.

Be sure to fill out the following character sheet:

Name:
Age: (Protectors may be chosen at any age but must be able and strong enough to work as a field hand, wear Mandalorian Armor, and handle a myriad of melee weapons.)
Sex: (Yes! Females can be Protectors!)
Species: (Concord Dawn is a largely unpopulated world and any species looking to carve out their own life are welcome to try their hand.
Appearance:
Brief History: (The majority of Protectors come from humble origins; either orphaned from unfortunate circumstances, unable to find work or from a family with simply too many mouths to feed – Though only the exceptional survive the rigorous training of a Protector)

I plan on this being a slow and steady RPG as the boards don’t seem too active. I know you guys get busy so just feel free to just post what you can. If you’re inactive for too long I can bypass the story around you until you get the chance to start writing again.

Rules: No flaming, no controlling others characters without permission and feel free to ask me questions or for help getting started if you need it.

/OOC]

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(7 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Sounds like fun, I'll get an introduction going!

20

(7 replies, posted in Role Playing)

I'm not familiar with the story line of the star wars 1313 game. I'll have to google that one. Episode 7 or a go at the Fett spin-off aren't bad ideas either.

One idea that I had a while back was for a Journeyman Protector school setting for an RPG that would explain how Fett ended up there and what his experiences were like.

I picture it like a hardcore military-style academy for the Lawmen or Sheriff equivalent on the world Concord Dawn, but I haven't done research on what has been made canon about the topic yet.

The school setting would be interesting. It'd be easy for players to pick to be students, or more experienced writers for instructors. I would start it with an aptitude test course where they could introduce themselves in how they complete the challenges, a brief boot camp, and then hands on missions where the characters are divided into groups and shadow a fully trained "Protector."

I think the hardest part of threads that contain canon characters though, is that everyone here usually wants to be Fett. smile

21

(7 replies, posted in Role Playing)

Anybody interested in either reviving an old RPG or starting a new one?

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(3 replies, posted in Creative)

Love the dialogue. There are some really clever conversations in here.

I feel a spin off is inevitable but I have absolutely no idea how they will go about it. As long as they don't turn it into a sappy love story or whiny orphan thing I could be happy. I just want more bounty hunters, and like...space pirates.

[OOC] Werda Verd you might have better luck contacting via pm or their email if its on their profile. Come play with us man! This isn’t D&D with dice and turns or nothing! Come just have fun!

Hey Mel, hope you don’t mind, but I still hope you’ll get the chance to post eventually. I heard you were having your baby, so we’ll be sure to keep your character around. Congratulations! I hope everything goes okay![/OOC]


As the heavy dust settled, Nell crossed her arms and eyed the one-handed human smiling next her. He looked like he hadn’t smiled in a very, very long time.

Nell angled her head to the side and pursed her lips, “I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“Perhaps.” Demarq’s sun-blinded smile quickly hid beneath the dark shadow his long unkempt hair cast. He turned over to where Nossk and Red regarded each other coldly.  The huge red-orange lizard leered down with his good eye, teeth bared and a menacing growl forming low in his throat.

The trandoshan stared back unflinchingly, rocket launcher still secure in his clawed hands. The force dragon inhaled deeply, snorted, then went over to what was left of the rancor and used the opportunity to **** on the carcass. Not really seeing any reason why he shouldn’t, Nossk went over and joined Red holding the missile launcher with one arm atop his shoulder.

“So where exactly do you get off on not trying to kill me?” Nell moved in closer, exposing her pale neck shyly. Demarq felt the charric press against his gut before it clicked as it was set to the highest setting. The female corellian made big, vanilla caramel caf eyes up at the pirate, “Is because I’m just a little helpless and petite female?”

A slow grin crossed the one-handed pirates face completely devoid of any intimidation, “Not in the slightest sweetheart.”

“Care to explain?” Nell jabbed the charric more forcefully, her tone leading quickly to anger.

“Well, you’re definitely not one of the prisoners, and since a good portion of your weapons aren’t even lethal you aren’t a mercenary.” Demarq tried to lean away from the weapon pushing against what must have been a broken rib but continued talking, “Which means you have your own ship, more than likely a grudge against Gerba, like ourselves, might I add, and you’re Corellian.”

“So?”

“Corellians always make the best pilots, and well, I need a pilot.”

“Since when do I care what you need?” Nell’s narrowed.

“I’ve done a good amount of dealing with Gerba,” Demarq waved his stumped hand about as if forgetting there was a hand there to flourish his smooth talking, “I know the way around the palace, the security, and the traps. Once we get in of course.”

Nell set her jaw when he made a valid point.

“Besides, you wouldn’t kill a cripple would you? That’s just heartless.”

Nell rolled her eyes and holstered the charric.

Many creatures such as reptiles in the universe possess the ability to silently communicate large amounts of information through pheromones and body language. But Nossk was still surprised when started “talking” to him.

Nice kill. Red shook off some pieces of debris, What are you anyway?

[OOC]Sweet the gang's all here! It's a party now![/OOC]


The whole world was spinning as Nell felt herself ebb out of unconsciousness. A hot liquid was dripping down her ear, and her pale hand revealed it to her as blood dripping from her somewhere on her head. The corellian was pinned on her side under stone against and against Red’s tough scaled stomach.

Nell lifted her other hand to find her fingers caught in a death grip around her Charric. The delicate and rare weapon seemed undamaged. Her knuckles were white from the strain, but her stiff fingers were unable to open and she struggled to pry them apart. When her hand finally came loose it smashed into a piece of stone.

Nell sucked in air between clenched teeth and angled her body so she could put the precious Charric back into its appropriate holster. Damn thing was expensive.

Nell coughed from the thick clouds of sand and dust still filtering the air. She peered up from the awkward angle at the height she had fallen from, and felt even less motivated to move. There was no way she had survived that, not without a broken neck or something.

She had been “dead” for three months.

Eventually, Nell dared to move…slowly, her lips parting, teeth clenching, and eyes shutting tighter for every new hurt as she struggled against the heavy stone and red-orange scales, until she managed to snake her way out and free.  The non-lethal stokhli spray stick holstered to her back got her stuck more than once, and the half meter long weapon was more than likely the major source of the more painful of her bruises.

“Red? Come on Red, you better get up now too.” Nell climbed onto the unmoving beast, leaning against his side and the dorsal spines on his back. She pulled on a spine weakly trying to shake the large creature awake. The huge lizard had managed to take the brunt of the fall. She pulled harder when she couldn’t feel him moving, or breathing

“Come on, get up!” Nell’s face twisted as she tried to keep herself from crying, “…please…get up.”

The blonde corellian leaned her forehead against the unmoving creature and closed her eyes tightly.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Nell turned abruptly to the side to see right next to her, a human male, his ruffled hair and devilish, cocky grin identifying him as the typical corellian smuggler to most people.

“Kale?” Nell gaped with disbelief.

Brother?

She never blinked, but then as quick as her brother had come, he was suddenly gone. 

Before Nell could mentally digest what just happened she heard an angry roar on her other side. An angry, wounded, and dust-covered wookie threw off the stone on top of him. The thick furred mercenary stumbled to his bare feet, and raised his hand toward Nell as if it were supposed to be currently holding a blaster…that he noticed unhappily to be missing.

Nell angrily and clumsily grabbed at the blaster pistol at her thigh (now twisted around to almost behind her hip) and unloaded almost an entire blaster pack on the wookie merc before he finally went down. Nell stood up with one hand still holding to Red’s dorsal spine for support and shrieked, “Are you crazy?! I’m trying to GRIEVE over here!”

Red growled like an old wampa woken early out of hibernation as he stood up on all fours and shook off stone and dust.

“Force Red! Why don’t you take your sweet time next time.” Nell kicked the one-eyed lizard solidly in the side, not affecting the hardened creature but was still smiling with relief.  The field was still clearing from the chaos of the sudden death of Nelba the Shell Hutt and the showering death hail of stone from above that left a few crushed bodies in its destructive wake.

Red limped slightly, bearing the equivalent of reptile bruises, and one of the dorsal spines on the lower end of his back had been crushed and partly broken off. Some of those remaining alive got down and hid as the huge lizard moved past, unsure of how to deal with this new threat, others just started shooting. 

Nell held onto Red with one arm with her bantha hide boots pressed into his side as the one-eyed lizard suddenly charged at three sullustans while dodging fire.  He trampled/impaled two with his massive talons, running through them like an Aratech vibromower on a grassy field and leaving them in just as many pieces.

The third duro sighed and looked up toward the heavens with relief, and didn’t see the huge powerful scaled tail whip coming at him like a sonic charge…silent, then BOOM, no more thankful duro.

A mandalorian in black armor with a red mythosaur skull on his shoulder piece managed to dive out of the way at the last second. If Red hadn’t been sprinting like a runaway grav-train while dodging blaster fire he might have gone back and finished the job. He knew the smell of mandalorian all too well.

Nell was too busy holding on to try and take out more of the battledome competitors with aiding blaster fire. Her arms were growing more covered with cuts and gashes from the sharp scales. She cursed herself for leaving her handler jacket and gloves on the ship. An exotic animal dealer with as much experience as herself should have known better…

That was when Red ran right into and through a huge towering pillar on his blind side. The huge monolith shuddered from the force of the hit, but didn’t fall. The hssiss reeled dizzily for a moment in almost a full circle, and shook his head trying to regain focus.

A jet pack slammed to the ground with a musical surprisingly cheery clang as it was rendered completely useless.  Nell regained her footing back on the lizard’s side and climbed up onto Reds back between the spread out dorsal spines.

“You okay, Red?”  He didn’t answer out of hurt pride and embarrassment.

The lizard reeled again in the direction before he finally started running and picked up speed again. Nell leaned down as close to the lizard’s ear slit as she could get, “Let’s find Kale.”

Nell tried to keep low away from any blaster fire that may come their way, and pointed in Red’s line of sight, “See, over to those buildings? Lets start there.”

Kale was always more at home in civilization.

“Let me know when you smell Katray.” Nell held her hand against the charric by her thigh, ready for whatever was coming next as the mock village structures loomed closer.