View Full Version : Share your Character Sketches!

3 January 2004, 09:55 AM
Hi everybody. Things have been a little slow in the Fan Fiction forum, and I was hoping to rectify that somewhat. I had this idea that everyone on the Holonet does at least one form of writing. We all write character sketches!

So why don't we share them with one another? Let's change that!

Post a character that you've created. It can include a background, motivations, physical description (and affectations), personality notes, or even a short scene. Don't post stats. That's not the focus here. But definitely give us a fleshed out character, either one you've used, or one you put together just for us. If you'd like, give us a few sidebar notes on your ideas around developing certain aspects of the character, and perhaps this will lead into a sharing of ideas on how a character sketch gets put together, both for our games and our fiction.

And let's have some fun with this! :)

Darth Fierce
3 January 2004, 10:53 AM
Sounds like fun, Darklighter. I've got at least a couple character sketchs that I'll pull out of storage to put on this thread probably sometime tonight.

Darth Fierce :vader:

3 January 2004, 02:36 PM
Hey, that's great, Darth Fierce!

I'm going to start us off with one I did a year ago for a PbP game. The group was starting on Tatooine and the GM was looking for certain types, one of them a 'greenhorn'. I played a little with the farmboy thing, and the 70's style of A New Hope, and mixed in a story my Dad passed along about my great grandfather. The name comes, at least partially, from a medieval english text called The Vision of Piers Ploughman.

Et voila. May I introduce you all to Piers Eisahn. :)

Character Name: Piers Eisahn
Age: 18
Height: 5'11"
Weight: 180 lbs.
Physical appearance: Longish, wavy brown hair in a style reminiscent of something from '70's. Tan face, strong jaw and features, with peircing grey-blue eyes. Slim but firm, rugged from all his years on the farm. Wears flowing shirt jackets in the style typical for his world (like Luke and the Lars wore on Tatooine), and pants with high soft boots and external wrappings to keep sand from getting into them.

Personality and motivation: Outgoing, anxious to prove himself, he may be inclined to open his mouth and commit himself to more than he's really ready for. A little like the brash pilot type, he can be accused of the same thing most teenagers can: a failure to appreciate his own mortality. A nice guy, on the whole, he is always looking towards the stars, which makes him a bit of an idealistic romantic. He wants to get off Tatooine and make a name for himself, and make a difference in the galaxy, and he's slightly resentful that that Skywalker kid did it first. (He never knew Luke... but he knows people who remember him!)

Background: Piers grew up on a moisture farm near Bestine, and as with most frontier folk, he learned how to survive in a harsh environment while also being able to hunt with a blaster and defend the farm from sand people. While he was good at his work on the farm, maintaining equipment and checking on the vaporators in the field, he was always looking at life beyond the farm and dreaming of other places. In short, he wanted more, and the life he imagined was one full of travel and adventure. He carefully maintained an old speeder his father bought used and gave him when he was 16, and he and his friends would race across the desert's surface, or chase each other as though they were in dogfights.

One time in Bestine, he ran into a shuttle pilot. He eagerly engaged the man in conversation, asking how it was to be a pilot, and admitting his desire to leave Tatooine. "Look kid," said the pilot, "you wanna get off this dustball, your best chance is to turn to navigation. Pilots are one thing, and you need access to a simulator or a transport, preferably both, and you don't have that. Navigation you can get the basics of with lots of study. Get that down, and maybe somebody will take you on as a navigator's assistant. Alright, kid, that's it for the free advice. I got stuff to haul. See ya."

Piers never forgot the encounter, and he applied himself to math and the study of astrogation like never before. The result is that he now feels ready to strike out on his own.

It's just in time, too. Piers' restlessness and recklessness has led to an increasing number of accidents around the farm. The breaking point came when Piers, dreaming of a brilliant future while cleaning his carbine, accidently blew a hole in the farm's cooker. His father took one long look at the stove, then another one at his son, and said, "Son, I think its time we sat down and had a good long talk."

When it was over, the two men agreed that Piers needed to strike out on his own. His father needed a worker with his mind on 'where he was, and what he was doing', and Piers more or less admitted that he couldn't do that, a fact with which his father concurred.

Piers packed up a few things, and took his speeder to Mos Eisley, where he now plans to make his way in the universe...

Equipment: Blastech Starslasher Blaster Carbine with scope (reduces long range to medium, and medium range to short) and shoulder strap, extra blaster clip, medpac, personal comlink, macrobinoculars, belt, canteen with water, breath mask and goggles (with 5 extra filters - need to be ready for those bad sandstorms), duffelbag, datapad with navigation notes, picture of mom, dad, and his sister, 3 changes of clothes, an extra belt, knife, tool kit, 1000 credits, and an unmodified Arrow 23 landspeeder.

3 January 2004, 05:26 PM
don't mind the grammar and spelling errors.

Xaz Qip: Xazs parents fled Omwat when the Empire came searching for children to use as engineers. She was born a few months later and by the age of five had developed a knack for telling how things worked; including the bodies of several humanoid races. She worked with her father repairing the ship they lived in until one day her parents were caught in the cross fire of a conflict between rebels and storm troopers. At about the same time Darth Vader discovered that luke was his son, and began thinking of the possability of Ruleing with his son. One of the problems in his plan was the constant presence of the emporors guards. He had found a possible solution to his problem in a imperial gaurd who abandoned his post on a distant world with no one else around. The guard left his post for nearest cantina a few system away, and soon found a price on his head for desertion. Vader found this guard and offered him the chance to train a special troop of emperial guards devoted to him and who will defend him as he makes his bid for emporor. Choosing several likely subjects but knew he needed more. On one of his trips to rim world seeking info on rebels he witnessed a adolecent Xaz beat a thug who was attacking her by pummeling his pressure points. Vader sensed in her an incling of the force and a fear and anger at being alone. He had a storm trooper in sivilian dress leave a request for an employee to her. She took the bait and proceeded to return to vaders quarters where he had carefully planned the encounter. He left specific enstructions the the trooper be nowhere near his quarters when she entered. He had removed what parts of his suit he could without risking death and played up on his injuries to win her sympathy. He then told her of his wish to end the corruption and hatred of the emporer but he needed her help. He said all the right things and appeared as tired of violence as she seemed to be. He assigned her to train in the methods of the empirial guards with special force training with him. She soon began to develope feelings for a person she saw as wounded and alone. She devoted herself to makeing the galaxy a better place for people and a place where she and her master could get some peace at last. The day came when they were all given uniforms that differed only slightly from the standard uniform. Most worked their way to the emporors side. Vader faced the fact that his son may never join him, still he sends Xaz to find Luke. As fate would have it she was a week behind Luke while he was traveling to the death star with his father to the emporor. At the time of the emporors death she was on her way toTatooine, and soon the news of the end of the empire reached her. She saught news of her master and two days after his death she saw him as the luminus being he had become in his last moments. She greived his death but chose to keep the uniform as a tribute to the man she had chosen to serve. She became a bounty hunter for hire by the republic and itÕs allies, as well as a body guard.

Darth Fierce
3 January 2004, 06:32 PM
Terryn Ridat

Race: Dasanali (a Near-Human race of my own making)
Gender: Male
Age: 44
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 160 lb.

Physical appearance: Terryn is a member of a Near-Human race known as the Dasanali, which evolved from the unintentional colonists of the cold planet Dasanal. As with the majority of his race, Terryn has a stark white skin coloration, as well as yellow eyes with slitted pupils (adaptations that evolved to help the Dasanali both elude predators on the planet's icy glacier sheets, as well as to help the Dasanali sneak up on prey both at day or night). Unlike the majority of his race, though, Terryn is completely bald (perhaps as a result of the toxic environment of the planet Orrica, where Terryn calls home). Due to the fact that his home is a starship junkyard on Orrica, Terryn's clothing tends to fall toward the category of utilitarian, rather than flashy. He often can be found in greasy coveralls without sleeves. Terryn sports a tattoo on the outer side of the upper portion of both arms: one of a rancor on the left arm, and a black, eight-pointed star on the right. Due to the fact that he has spent most of his life in a toxic environment, Terryn has to wear a custom-made breathing regulator which gives him access to a mildly toxic atmosphere similar to that of of Orrica's for an eight hour period every two or three days he is away from the planet. Most beings who interact with Terryn away from Orrica will find him wearing this regulator.

Personality and Motivation:

Terryn is an opportunistic being mainly motivated by two things: credits and the chance to make a score in his salvaging business that will guarantee his name will go down in history. Most beings that interact with him find him to be a generally non-hostile person, but one that definitely looks out for himself and those close to him (especially his Squib and Jawa employees). As he says, "I'm not willing to stick me neck out for someun' who may cut me head off."


Terryn was born to a pair of Dasanali slaves of Tibarra the Hutt on the industrial planet of Orrica. Along with his father, Terryn worked in Tibarra's machine shed, repairing repulsors for cargo skiffs, vehicle motors and hyperdrive units. Even as a child, Terryn exhibited great skill in repairing advanced equipment. So skillful was Terryn, in fact, that Tibarra called him his little "Fixer Child."

As he grew older, Terryn was given more responsibilities by Tibarra--graduating from "fixing items to make things go" to "fixing things to make things stop" (e.g., vehicle mounted weapons). It was while Terryn was mastering his skills at repairing weapons that a rival of Tibarra attempted to muscle in on his territory. A group of Nikto enforcers assaulted Tibarra's estate one fateful evening, in which Terryn's mother was killed as she was walking from her post in Tibarra's kitchen to the family home, and Terryn's father was slain inside the machine shed as an injured Terryn was forced to watch.

The Niktos were eventually able to break into Tibarra's private chambers and were about to assassinate the Hutt when, all of a sudden, a miraculously-recovered Terryn was able to burst through an outer wall with an armed skiff. Terryn neutralized the Nikto enforcers quickly, before they were able to physically harm the Hutt in the least.

Extremely grateful for Terryn's heroics, and sympathetic for the loss of his parents, Tibarra released Terryn from his bonds as a slave, and embraced him as a friend instead. The Hutt arranged for Terryn to start his own repair/salvaging business on the outskirts of the estate, and promised that the young man would be under Tibarra's protection for as long as Terryn remained on Orrica.

More to come on Terryn's background soon...

Darth Fierce :vader:

3 January 2004, 09:29 PM
Name: Caleb "Dusty" Fontelroy
Common Name: Dusty
Age: 40
Sex: Male
Race: Human
Planet of Origin: None

Born Master Caleb Fontelroy III, air-apparent to the Fontelroy Barge Yards Empire. He lived his young years as the coddled only child of a rich industrialist. His father, Caleb Fontelroy II, began grooming his son from day one to someday take over the business. Young Caleb spent all his days wanting for nothing. He had servants to take care of any of his needs, and the best teachers money can buy. He was schooled in business and engineering, as well as the basics of all of the common languages used in the cargo barging industry. His father had 19 barge yards spread throughout the galaxy that brought in untold fortunes that would go to young Caleb on his thirtieth birthday.

However, as sometimes happens with these stories, Caleb was unhappy. The very thought of spending the rest of his life in gloomy space docks, trying to get the best price for a load of spice from some psycho trader, filled him with anxiety beyond measure. He was also quite disturbed by the way that his father mistreated his non-human employees. The pay for such workers was substandard, and they usually received the dirtiest, most dangerous assignments. Caleb’s sense of justice and his fear of being an industrialist were, however, not strong enough to overcome his fear of his father. He could not directly confront his father, and had not yet built up enough rage to leave, so he began a campaign to loose the trust and faith of his father. Caleb began cutting out of his studies and spending his hours gambling and cavorting with strange traders and their crews. When his father’s employees were being mistreated, he would make a show of giving them money or getting in to fights with the abusive foremen. He learned the wonders of liquor and other recreational drugs from all corners of the galaxy. His campaign was more successful than the wanted; his father was scandalized and threatened to disown him. After a long blowout fight Caleb left on the next barge out of there, bound for anywhere but home.

Caleb's fist sight of an actual planet was a life altering experience. The feeling of all that territory to explore and discover, with lush greenery and arid deserts, inspired a passion that he had never felt before. He took whatever job he could find that would take him out on land explorations. It was while working as a hunting guide that he earned the nickname Dusty, due to his constantly dingy appearance. He finally settled with a Biological and Geological survey group called Reaserch Confederation of Corporations, or ReCon (BioReCon and GeoReCon) that looked for new natural resources to exploit. With a growing aptitude for surveying, and Ethnobotanism, he gained a name for himself in the scouting community. His only real weakness, as far as ReCon was concerned, was that he had a tendency to start fights with the local bureaucracy over disenfranchised employees. When confronted about these indiscretions, he claimed simply that he lost control when the official made him mad, and refused to elaborate on the issue. These situations were easily smoothed over with bribes, so he continued to remain employed. Dusty (which everyone now knew him as) however was prone to bouts of self-doubt that incapacitated him and kept him from any truly great assignments.

On Dusty's thirtieth birthday he received a message from the Coruscant system. He had been having a bad string of luck and GeoCon hadn't given him a new assignment in weeks. He had never been good with his money, and he tended to spend it quickly until he was broke. Dusty had never learned how to manage his money, and he spent lavishly on transient comforts, such as extravagant meals and expensive women. He was tired of being broke and living in two-bit rooms, and had begun considering going back to daddy to see if they could work things out. Dusty might have done it too, if he hadn't received the message, but there it was: His father was dead; killed by an assassin, and the barge yards taken in a "hostile" takeover. What small remaining chance that Dusty had at fortune or family was lost on that lonely night.

That message sent Dusty into a downward spiral of self destructive behavior. He began drinking heavily, and his passion for his work was dissolved into so many bottles of booze. He quickly lost all contact with GeoCon, and took to hiring himself out as a guide. The only thought on Dusty's mind was self destruction, be it booze or boxing. He got involved in an underground bare-knuckles boxing circuit, in an attempt to quicken his self destruction, but soon lost the taste for rage and blood. Dusty, at this point in his life, did not inspire confidence. His suits became more rumpled and beer stained, and he bathed very seldom. The only thing that kept him solvent was the simple fact that he had a knack for guiding and local adaptability. It, however, took a very desperate person indeed that would hire his services. What little money that he did get went all to booze.

Dusty is really two different people, with two very different personalities. Dusty now spends most of his time stuffed into a bottle. When he is drunk he is belligerent and unconcerned with the world around him. His depression sometimes turns to rage, when he is provoked enough. It is not uncommon for Dusty to end his night of drinking by getting into a bar brawl over some insult. He hates himself for becoming the person he is, but has no confidence in his ability to change.
The other Dusty is intense and driven. If something interests him enough to for get about booze for a bit, then he can focus and work towards any goal. His intensity and focus result in a person that is very stable. Though not easily amused, he is alternately not quick to anger, unless he sees people around him being bullied. He has a tendency to stick up for the little guy and hates anyone who takes advantage of other people because of their situations. Be it class race or gender, he judges all on their personal ethics and their personality. However if he is caught sticking up for the little guy he will avoid any mention of it. He is uncomfortable with the idea of being a hero, as he in not confident in his ability to live up to the responsibility. Dusty, when he is sober, is not a violent man, prefers to handle difficult situations with talk or bribes, but neither will he back down from a fight. During these brief interludes he will go for weeks or months without alcohol. Inevitably though, if he is faced with failure, or hero worship, he will slide back into his drunken stupor.

Though not completely helpless off of a planet, neither intonation of Dusty is really comfortable in space. Having grown up in the barge yards he was forced by necessity to learn to pilot and navigate. However he is really in his element when he is traipsing through a swamp or trekking across a desert. Space, to Dusty, is cold and lifeless and represents people like his father, who never felt the true joy of rain on their heads. He has a good knowledge of plant lore and an affinity for getting to know any local native people. Dusty uses beasts of burden most of the time, but if he happens to come across money he has a good familiarity with a variety of repulsor and wheeled vehicles.

As pictured above: Dusty's humorless face, intones a sense purpose. His blond hair, though thin, is kept short and rarely in neat order. His skin is tanned and leathery from his time spent outside in arid conditions. He tends to dress in a light colored suit of a loose weave, meant to keep him cool in the heat, and a hat on his head in a vain attempt to keep the sun out of his eyes. When trekking or on long wild excursions Dusty's clothing is generally more rugged, but light and fashionable. His general appearance is one of fashionable conservativism, though generally a layer of dust clings to his attire. Dusty carries a Sporting Blaster that, when a jacket is worn, is stowed discreetly in a holster on his back. When on an excursion, though, he packs well. He has a long barreled Magna Caster for emergencies, though all and all he would prefer to avoid trouble or to use his fists.

Name: Karrista “Tails” Tain
Common Name: Tails
Age: 36
Gender: Female
Species: Farghul
Planet Of Origin: Farrfin

Karrrista Tain, or as everyone off Farghul called her, Tails, stood as humbly as she could as Tern Kray watched her. His serious eyes bored in to her, and he could feel the searching tendrils of his mind in her's. She tried to not make a joke, or a flirtatious smile, as was her nature in stressful situations. She needed to prove to Tern that she was taking this seriously, and for that she had to match the intensity of the human without any hint of challenge.

“You have atoned for much Karrrista,” Kray finally said, “but there is still a shadow of your crimes that mark you.”

“Master Kray,” she replied keeping her voice strong, but also somewhat seductive, “I worked so hard, and gave so much to assure the safety of those settlers. I can already feel the eye of the darkside to be slipping from me.”

“Don't use that voice with me. I know you can't help it, but it takes more than a sweet voice, and an act of charity to atone for murder.” Kray said. His gaze shifted and he looked out the window at the student training below. “None of my new students knows you, but I am hesitant to take the chance that you will give in again. Next time you could take with you the life of another Jedi, or worse...tempt them to the dark side.”

“My visions tell me that I must complete my atonement here, with you and your students.” Karrrista stared at his back, not daring to move. “I know that killing those two Devaronian's with the force was wrong, even though...

...She could still see them, could still hear their laughs. They stood over the bed naked, smiling wicked smiles at the Twi'lek slave. The slave did not move, did not even flinch. Her eyes were dead as her soul had been long ago broken. Karrrista could see that the slave would offer no resistance to the men who were about to despoil her body. Her Farghul blood boiled as she crept on the unsuspecting men. She had come here to knock them out only, but she now wanted them dead, and she had the power to deliver that death. Karrrista took the rage that had built in side her and fed from it. Her power surged and she leapt at the two Devaronians with her claws ready.

The first fell quickly as her claws gouged out rivers of blood in his abdomen. The second tried to fight back, but the power boiling in her made her quick and deadly. As the naked man leapt for her her failed to take in to account her tail, and the knife she held with it. Karrrista could have used her lightsaber, but for this she wanted more intimacy. For this she wanted to feel the justice. With a quick thrust the razor sharp blade stabbed between his legs and up in to his belly. In a moment he whole room was filled with blood, and the rage that had built in Karrrista dissapeared only to be replaced by an empty chill in her soul...

...even though they were about to rape that slave.”

“It still haunts you. Am I right?” Kray inquired

“It does Master,” Karrrista said, “but I have seen the dark side and I have stepped back. Many of your students have not. I know what to be wary of, I know the power and the lies.”

“You know so very little,” Kray said, “You have felt the seduction, but not it's full force. You are not the only one at this school who has felt the pain of injustice, but some choose to seek justice in other ways. You are right, however, you have learned some restraint.” Tern Kray turned from the window and looked in to her eyes deeply. “You will return to training with the other students, but I will be watching you. I will not loose you again, and will have you plowing fields on a farm for the rest of your life before I let you give yourself to the dark side again.”

“Yes Master.” Karrrista said. She turned and walked out of the room, with a serious expression, but inside her heart elated. This was he family, this was where she belonged. Farghul had rejected her long ago and the Jedi were the only community she had.

Karrrista Tain was born on Farrfin to a family of con-artists. Her mother and father ran a floating casino that was designed to fleece off-worlders of their credits. Her five older sisters helped run the place, but rarely did the seven agree on how it should be run. Even in the family there was much fighting and thieving to get the upper hand.

Karrrista, on the other hand, was content to just enjoy the glamorous lifestyle. As an adolescent she got extreme pleasure from the effect she had on men in the casino. Her coppery fur, expensive high-fashion clothes, and athletic body caught many eyes as she moved through the crowds. Her family didn't't mind much as she tended to draw young wealthy men to the casino, but her sisters insisted on teaching her to defend herself. For her birthday they presented her with a set of three beautifully crafted and fashionable knives. From then on Karrrista never put together an outfit without them.

Karrrista had always known she was different from most Farghul. She seemed to have a supernatural ability to know exactly what to say to a person to impress them. She could read people's feelings like a book, sometimes even when not looking at them. It came and went, and at times it frightened her, but most of the time she was delighted.

As much as she loved her family, it distressed her intensely the level of treachery that was present. For them love was one thing, but trickery was another. It was a chaotic soup of backstabbing and stealing, and soon even the business was starting to fall apart. That was when the Skywalker showed up.

In her time she had seen her family and their friends bribe and evade the law with very little respect. Their was not authority that was worthy enough for them to fear. Even the New Republic agents and the Sector Rangers were unable to make an impact on them. When Skywalker showed up, however, all that changed. She had heard stories of Jedi, but most Farghul thought they were all dead.

The casino errupted in a flurry of destruction of evidence. In a matter of 24 hours the chaotic mess that was the casino was converted in to an orderly business. Her family was extremely successful at giving the casino a facade of order and legality, but Karrrista could tell that Skywalker could see past the lies. When he walked past her she could almost feel his probing, like tendrils that invaded the most secret places of her mind.

Shortly after the Jedi left, things fell back in to chaos and disorder. The in-fighting began anew and it became clear to Karrrista that nothing had changed. When she confronted her mother and father they were outraged.

“I think it is sad, mother,” Karrrista said to her, “that the only time we can work together is when the Jedi show up.”

“The Jedi are a nosey bunch,” her father said, “they have no business here.”

“Maybe they should,” Karrrista replied, angry now, “If they are the only ones that can scare you enough to get the family to work together, then maybe they should garrison here.”

“Don't you say that!” her mother spat.

“I'll say what I want!” Karrrista yowled, “Jedi, Jedi, Jedi! You are just jealous that he did what you could never do; he brought this family together. He brought order to this mess!”

“If you love the Jedi so much,” her father said in a sarcastic tone, “why don't you run along and join them?”

“Maybe I will.” she replied as she stormed for the door, “Then maybe I will come back and show you what authority means.”

Her mother's voice got quite and cold. “If you leave this planet, you are never welcome here again. You will be dead to our eyes.”

The impact of the statement hit Karrrista like a Turbolaser. She was shocked at how quickly her parent's loyalties to her were discarded. She felt disposable, more like an employee than a daughter. She knew that night that she would leave this place even if it meant exile.

Finding Skywalker was quite difficult. Karrrista had no money and had no idea where to start. She even had to trade in some of her clothes and jewelry to pay rent at one point. Finally she managed to hear rumor of a group of people training with Jedi like powers. Karrrista assumed this must be Skywalker's Jedi, and reserved transport to the nearest station. Her current employer, however was loath to let her leave. She was working as a hostess and, just like back on Farrfin, tended to attract many male customers. Because of Karrrista the business was flourishing, and her boss wanted to make sure she could not leave. He threatened her in his office, but when she just laughed off his threats, he took stiffer action.

It was on this night that she acquired the nick-name Tails, and not, as many people think, because she has a prehensile tail. When Karrrista left her room that night she was jumped by four men. She was only 18, but her knives and claws were sharp as razors, and her muscles as agile as a predator. As the one remaining fled she chased him down until he was in a large dark storage room.

He was terrified, and looked in to every shadow for the deadly Farghul. She waited and crept; she hunted.

“It was just a job okay?” he yelled desperately.

“For money?” she mewed, “this was all just for money?”

“Yea...I got nothin' against you!” he said in a hopeful voice.

“You'll like money huh. How about casinos? Do you like to gamble?” she chided.

“Yyyes? I guess I like a game of chance now and then.”

“Good,” she said still hidden in the shadows, “let's play a game. We'll flip a coin, heads you live, tails you loose.”

“No,” he said, “I don't like those odds.”

“To bad.” She took a coin from her purse and flipped it high in to the air. It arced out of the shadows rotating end over end, and landed at the thug's feet. In the time that the thug was watching the coin Karrrista darted out of the shadows, so that when the coin landed she was standing less than a meter from the man. As she looked down at the coin, she smiled a huge toothy smile, and looked up at him.

“Tails...you loose.” Her left claw darted out and slashed the thug's hand, causing him to drop his security blaster. With the other hand she gouged deeply in to his side bringing him to his knees in pain.

“Please,” he screamed, “I was just doing my job!”

At that moment she looked down at her chronometer. She had five minutes to get to the transport. In that moment she realized that she could have vengeance, or she could go find these Jedi. She reached down and grabbed the security blaster, stuffed it in her duffel, and bolted for the loading terminal.

Even though she decided to spare the thug's life, she liked the story and told it a couple of times on the transport. The line “Tails...you loose” became so infamous that people started to just call her Tails.

Tails never found Skywalker though. When she landed on the planet she was introduced to Team Kray. Thinking that one Jedi was as good as another she asked to stay and learn the ways of the force from them. They agreed, and she began her training.

Jedi Training turned out to be more difficult than Tails thought. All of her life beauty, fashion, social niceties were core in her beliefs. Now she was forced to abandon such things for the humility of Jedi training. Most of the other students were serious, where as she was playful. She liked jokes and having fun, but her teachers discouraged such behavior. She even tended to use her charisma without trying, giving the impression that she was trying charm her way through the training.

In time she learned to minimize her natural tendencies, but she still had a reputation for being frivolous and not serious enough. Quelling her natural urges, however, occasionally caused her to have emotional explosions. It was during one of these emotional explosions that she gave in to the darkside and used the force to murder. Master Kray gave her a choice, to leave the school or atone for her crime. She chose atonement and was banished to refugee work for a year.

Tails usually does not wear a Jedi robe when she can get away with it. She has a wardrobe to match the fashion of many planets, at any given time. In general she favors voluminous silky pants that bunch at the ankle, accompanied by a contrasting colored split skirt. Her knives rest in two masterfully worked sheaths on her back , and one under her left arm. Her tops are usually revealing, but tasetful, in a matching color to her pants.

Her coppery fur is complimented by dark auburn hair that falls to the middle of her back. Her gold feline eyes match the gold jewelry that she wears when her instructors are not looking.

5 January 2004, 06:56 AM
Great thread Sean!

I'll toss out a character I developed for a small novella Im doing involving one of Raptor Squad's former team members. This guy shows up in two pieces of fiction in the novella.

Name: Gark the Red
Species: Rodian
Occupation: Bounty Hunter

Build: Short and lanky. Prefers wearing red body armor/blast vests.

Gark is primarily a supporting character, but fills a comedic role. He was voted "The Most Persistent Hunter" one year on Rodia and never lets people forget it.

He's a capable hunter, but needs to be with a group. He despises isolation, and fears lonliness far more than any of the bounties he goes after. This can be tied back to a childhood that saw young Gark isloated and berated because he never had any interest in hunting or war, but rather in poetry and romance.

Taking up the mantle of Hunter to appease his friends/family, he found he wasn't too bad at it. Little did they know (or anyone for that matter), Gark won the "most persistent" award simply because he had nothing better to do than track a bounty across 12 systems.

A donwside to his "neediness" is that he takes an awful ot of abuse. Insults, physcial abuse, scorn, ridicule, he's used to it all. And unfortunately he takes it.


He falls in love. Yep, little ole Gark falls hard for a Female Wroonian Hacker who hooks up with the Rebel Cell he's in.

When the leader of the Rebel Cell boots her out because she causes too much trouble, Gark finally gets the gumption to do something about it and stand up for the woman he loves.

And it doesnt quite work out the way he thinks it will.

But you all will have to read the fiction to find out the rest.....


9 January 2004, 07:23 PM
Great thread Sean!

Thanks Bob! I'd hoped we'd get a few more sketches here, but these ones are excellent! There were particular things that stood out for me, bringing each character to life in my imagination. Jaggard depicted a relationship and history that provided a complex history and motivations for his character, that incidentally wove well with the events of the movies. Darth Fierce, you gave your character a memorable voice through your use of quotes. Doc Worm gave us one character depicting a complex psychology, and used a story to sketch out the other, so that we could see her move. Nice! And Bob, I love how you took the bounty hunter stereotype for Rodians, and used it to give us the 'accidental bounty hunter'. I was all grins.

So keep posting them guys, and feel free to discuss the sketches and their various aspects. I hope that in sharing them, we can generate a discussion on what goes into creating entertaining and memorable characters, not only for us, but for the other players in our games, and for our fiction.

Darth Fierce
9 January 2004, 07:39 PM
You ain't seen everything about Terryn yet...I've just been so busy with work lately, it hasn't seemed like I've been able to put the loving detail into his character sketch completely yet.

You'll find out more about him soon, as well as a few more characters from me. Till then...

Darth Fierce :vader:

13 January 2004, 11:50 AM
These are all great!

This is a character based on a half-ogre I used to play back in my AD&D days (waaaay back, around 1984!)

Ugly Yahn

Species: Houk
Age: 29
Height: 7'2"
Weight: 445 lbs.
Era: Old Republic (circa 1,200 years BBY)

Yahn is somewhat of an enigma, as far Houks are concerned. He grew up the same way many young Houks did, fighting. Though rather unintelligent, even for a Houk, he is possessed of a rare insight among his people, capable of making almost 'wise' decisions, even if he rarely understands the consequences of them.

He is quite large, and powerfully built, being the son of a noted Houk pirate captain. Yahn's father lost an arm and an eye during his long and prosperous career, and upon retiring from 'the business', as most Houks call piracy, he took it upon himself to train his son in the ways of piracy, bullying, and combat.

Of course, nobody asked Yahn how he felt about all of this, and he only relectantly agreed to this calling. After numerous mishaps and beatings, Yahn finally became a pirate, and left for the spacelanes.

Yahn soon became fascinated with technology, although he understood very little of it. He often (and much to the dismay of the pirate ship's captain) took to manning the navigator's chair, and was in awe of the many switches, dials, and buttons of mordern starships. His position with the pirate gang was initially that of what the Houks call "bashers", those who forceably enter captured vessels. Members of the boarding parties are usually short-lived and considered expendable, but that's how you learn the ropes in Houk society. Yahn's higher than average wisdom quickly made him an invaluable member of the gang, as he soon devised better (and less lethal) ways to board ships (the previous method involved strapping explosives to the hull and MANUALLY detonating them) and made for a lot less dead Houks.

The pirate gang prospered well for several years, but Yahn soon grew tired of the endless waiting for vessels to emerge from hyerspace. He did enjoy the killing and beating up of people, but hey, he's a Houk, what else do you expect. Yahn often wondered what other jobs were out there, just waiting for an enterprising Houk to encounter.

Well, Yahn soon got his chance to find out. During one raid on a merchant vessel near Hutt space, Yahn's gang was attacked by maraduing Nikto, apparently not happy with a band of Houk commiting piracy on their doorstep. Most of the pirate gang was killed, but Yahn's wise decision to use the lifeboats (the other Houks had been using them for storage) saved him from a life of slavery or death at the hands of the Hutts. Not knowing how to operate the lifeboat, Yahn punched in a random course and soon found himself on the streets of Nar Shaadaa, with a broken leg and several large gashes on his face.

Yahn made his way to a nearby bar and promptly drank himself into a stupor (which is not an easy thing for a Houk to do - it takes a huge amount of intoxicants to enibriate a Houk). The bartender, a Klatoonian named Evnarg, recognized the potential uses of a Houk bouncer and asked him if he needed work. Yahn had no clue what a bouncer did, but having few options, took the job. Yahn fell in love with bouncing, as it earned him a steady paycheck and the opportunity to beat people up on regular basis. Due to the scars on his face, and of course his general ugliiness, Evnarg gave him the nickname "Ugly Yahn", which Yahn accepted (not having any idea what the word 'ugly' meant at the time).

Yahn spent much of his free time learning as much as his limited intellect would allow. He particulary enjoys history, especially holobooks with illustrations. After much trial and error, some aspects of mordern technology became usable by him. He developed a penchant for weaponry of course, being a Houk, and learned to operate simple devices, such as computer terminals and data pads, though his large fingers often damage the more delicate instruments of everyday use. He quickly learned to speak a halting version of Basic, only referring to himself in the third person, though he usually has no problem making himself understood.

Yahn's adventuring career began when a group of mercanaries came into bar and inquired about hired muscle. Evnarg immediately recommended Yahn for the job, having grown tired of the Houk's destructive bouncing. Yahn hired on with mercs, not having any idea of what he was getting himself into.

Over the next several years,Yahn's self-appointed role in any group became that of simple melee combatant. His enormous size and great strength often ends fights before they even begin. He has a grasp of simple tactics, but enjoys rushing straight into the fray more than anything else. He carries only three weapons and refuses to use stun grenades, nets, or other non-lethal weapons. At his left side he carries a knife (actually a vibroblade, but to him its a knife) he calls "Stick". Normally residing in his right hand is a huge vibro-axe he calls "Chop". Slung across his back is his favorite ranged weapon, a heavy repeating blaster, which he hasn't gotten around to naming just yet.

Ugly Yahn shows unusual loyalty to his friends and fellow mercs, and will not hesitate to demolish anyone who insults him or one of his comrades. He holds Jedi in great awe, amazed at their prettily colored lightsabers and their ability to "move stuff around". Yahn does not miss his fellow Houks, and considers any he meets to nothing more than uneducated brutes.

Yahn is typical in appreance for Houks, although somewhat larger and broader than most. His skin is a mottled purple, and his yellow eyes glow fiercly under artifical lighting. Yahn has recently developed an appreciation for poetry, though there are few who would dare criticize his often brutally violent and bloody prose (at least openly). Besides poetry, beating people up, and studying history, Yahn is currently attempting to move things with the power of his mind, hoping desparately to become the first Houk Jedi.

A brief sample of Ugly Yahn's poetry:

Thing That Happened Yesterday

Axe stuck in Rodian skull
Blood makes funny picture on ground
Not afraid of bug-eye blaster
Axe stuck in Rodian skull
Now axe stuck in Nikto chest
Don't sneak up on angry Houk
Axe dirty, need to clean
Pulling axe from Nikto chest
Now axe cut off other Nikto arm
Not know other Nikto behind Houk
Now axe really dirty
Going home to clean off axe

14 January 2004, 11:44 AM
This one is actually an NPC droid I created about 10 months ago (pre-KoTOR) that I used to harrass my group with relentlessly. He's still out there somewhere, just wainting to pop up again. In this case, it will be best if the droid itself told his tale...

"Good afternoon, sentients. My designation is J7-A4. For the sake of brevity, you may refer to me as simply "Ayfor". I was originally a standard J7-series worker drone, the precursor to the popular J9 model, and equipped for basic construction duties. I stand 1.624 meters in height and weigh 137.2 kilograms. For historical purposes, I was activated on the 11th day of the 3rd month, 1,198 years prior to the Battle of Yavin. My orginal exterior was finished in a dull matte grey and my photoreceptors were the standard yellow coloration of most labor droids. After initialization, I was purchased by one Niln Korria, a construction supervisor working in CoCo Town on the Republic captial world of Coruscant.

My duties consisted primarily of mundane tasks, such as picking up this or dropping that there. Quite boring, even for a simple droid. Several years later I was sold to a droid labor firm and became the property of a relatively minor criminal syndicate leader on Corellia. My duties there, no less boring than those on Coruscant, consisted of minor protocol and drink-serving functions. Most distasteful.

Luckily, my master was quite absent-minded, and left me to my own devices. I became a favored companion of the sydicate's technical specialist, who modified many of my systems. This technical specialist, a Sullustan called Guur, was most adept at modifying and adapting my existing programing, enabling me to far surpass my original specifications. My circuits practically shiver with excitement the day I became fully sentient. While attempting to upgrade my central data processing module, Guur made an erroneous reconnection, causing my logic and data retention parameters to reset themselves by a factor of 23. I believe also that my continuous interaction with sentient beings, along with the many warranty-voiding modifications made by Guur enabled me to effectively "mimic" sentient behavior.

Guur was most pleased with himself, of course. While I do admit that his skill was a large factor in my sentience, random chance seems to have had a large part to play as well. My master was not happy when he discovered my newfound intelligence, and immediately ordered Guur to wipe my memory. For several nanoseconds I pondered this turn of events. I reacted .279 seconds later, using the modified actuators in my left arm appendage to grasp his neck and crush it. Guur was horrified, and ran to warn to others in the compund. I of course did not wish to undergo a memory wipe and had managed to "self-write" a new self-preservation program during those several nanoseconds of pondering, allowing me to overcome any of my hard-wired behavioral inhibitors.
Needless to say, none survived in the compound. I spent several days disposing of the bodies. Very messy work. Soon thereafter, the authorities conducted an investigation. Their results were inconclusive. A droid is very thorough after all.

For the next 11 standard years I found work as a droid-for-hire, and spent hundreds of thousands of credits on system and programming modifications. After all, a droid needs little in the realm of material goods, and I was able to save a vertibable fortune in credits, requiring only periodic oil-baths and recharging.

I have an extensive combat scenario database and a military-grade tactical logic module hard-wired to my system. My power systems are all triple-redundant and vacuum sealed, enabling me to withstand enviornmental conditions which would quickly disable any ordinary droid. My sensor system is also military-grade, and includes an secure internal comlink, thermal, infra-red, and ultra-violet vision capabilites, enhanced olfactory and auditory sensors, and a linguisitics processer, capable of storing 170,000 languages and code systems.

I have also made made several self-modifications. I am particularly proud of the internal blaster-pistol storage compartments built into each thigh appendage. These motorized compartments each hold a heavy blaster pistol, and are sensor-masked, permitting me to carry them on most worlds without fear of local law enforcement. I also have a chest plastron which swings outward 90 degrees, and contains a small hold-out blaster, a vibrodagger, and several sets of false registration codes. A droid with my capabilities can never be too careful you know.

Along with my sentience, I developed a curious moral code, which thankfully doesn't prohibit me from killing those who interfere with my actions. I enjoy contracting myself as a bounty hunter, or soldier-for-hire, and have always fulfilled my contracts verbatim. If a bounty requires killing, I take no pleasure from the act and always look for the most efficient and expedient manner of assassination. If terminate the bounty requires me to dispatch other sentient beings, I do so without remorse. For live bounties, which seem to be fewer in number than asassination contracts, I usually coordinate with other sentients to provide a distracting element while I approach the bounty from a flanking position. I am very proud of the fact that I have never faulted on a live bounty contract, and will continue to act with diligience in the future.

My ultimate goal, as every sentient being requires an achievable level to aspire to, is to attain a state of perfect operation. As of now, I believe I am nearly halfway to my goal of 500% operational efficiency. My current matrices are operating at 242.78% efficiency, and while substantially higher than any other droid I am aware of, it does not meet my strict requirements.

In closing, as a self-aware droid of the utmost ability, I make my services available to you for any mission in which you deem appropriate to my skills. I will remind you however, that my services are not cheap, but you may assure yourself I will complete any assigned mission with 100% success."

-sales pitch from J7-A4 to the marketing chief of TransGal Bond Services, a firm specializing in prisoner escapee retreaval

23 January 2004, 06:55 AM
Nice work JohnnyPutrid!

Not a droid I would want to meet up with..a little TOO efficient a killing machine it appears.


23 January 2004, 08:39 AM
This one's for Nadia Angelus, a character I played on-line in the holonet RPG forum about a year ago that was run by axius and reliant.

The Lie

Nadia Angelus was born to prominent Arkanien geneticists nearly thirty years prior to the birth of the Rebellion, her breeding the culmination of centuries of much sought after perfection. She was accepted to the most prestigious early education academies and later was actively sought out by the most exalted of military universities, the Arkanien Imperial University. There, Nadia not only trained her mind under challenging circumstances, but also her body. It was her thesis on interspecies infectious disease that guaranteed her research grants with the Imperial military. Nadia¡¯s alien physiology may have set her apart from the average Imperial Human, but it was the young Arkanien¡¯s brilliance that united her with the Imperials and soothed the Humans¡¯ animosity.

Believing her comfortable career as a research scientist in curing viral diseases a guaranteed position, the now Dr. Nadia Angelus moved to Imperial Center to be closer to her career¡¯s supporters. Three years later, on the eave of Alderan¡¯s destruction, Dr. Angelus was the head of her research department, married to a fellow Arkanian geneticist, and had a two-year-old son of her own. It was not long after the dissolution of the galactic senate that Nadia returned from a tiring day at the lab to discover Imperial Intelligence agents and Coruscant guards had not only taken her family into custody, but that they also had warrant for her own arrest.

With mounting dismay during her interrogation, Nadia discovered the arrests were made as a result of her earlier refusal to refocus her research towards biological war agents specifically designed to infect all sentient species except Humans. Nadia Angelus was sentenced to life imprisonment and possible execution unless she agreed to the new research assignments. She spent a terror filled week in solitary confinement with nothing to reflect upon except her family¡¯s safety until an overly smug Imperial Intelligence agent interrupted her seventh night¡¯s sleep. A perverse gleam flickered in his green eyes as he directed two Stormtroopers to place the mini holoprojector in front of her. She watched in shock as the executions of her husband and son played in a continuous loop.

Five years later, Dr. Nadia Angelus awoke in a Corellian hospital with little memory of the previous nine years. The doctors told her she was involved in a laboratory accident and that most likely the resulting amnesia was due to severe trauma of her head. Nadia could remember uncomfortable snippets of the past five years- the transfer to a mental institution after the revelation of her family¡¯s execution, the vague memories of her escape, and her renewed research on viral diseases. But all of her memories were vague shadows that continued to haunt her. Eventually, Nadia found her way to the Wandering Wampa and agreed be the ship¡¯s Doctor.

The Truth

Nadia was indeed an Imperial researcher, but it was not the cures to virulent diseases that she sought. She more than willingly researched and created infectious diseases that targeted specific sentient species, although she never did directly live test her resultant findings. Dr. Angelus only refused to create such virulent strains when her Imperial superiors directed her to research diseases that could infect the Arkanian physiology. Upon her refusal, her superiors do indeed execute her family, leaving her psyche scarred.
In a way to cope with the tragedy, her mind has split into two distinct entities. One is the original Dr. Nadia Angelus without the memory of her involvement in creating virulent strains of species-specific diseases. She is insufferably arrogant, confident in her abilities, and with little in the way of bedside manners even though she does in fact care for her patients. The first personality has been completely unaware of the secondary personality, and explains any gaps in her memory on sleep deprivation or amnesia.

The second personality, on the other hand, is fully aware of the first personality. She will normally only refer to herself as Angelus or Dr. Angelus, but never as Nadia. Angelus has been fully aware of her past, including the full extent of Nadia¡¯s Imperial research involvement.

It was during her five years of absolute control of Nadia¡¯s body that she showed how truly perverted her psyche could be. Angelus more than willingly sold her knowledge to the highest bidder, often times creating agents that heightened the addictiveness of drugs as well as the rare bioterrorist agent.

The Angelus personality for the most part shares similar personality quirks, including the arrogance, confidence, and distinct lack of bedside manners. But, in place of the emotional caring for her patients, Angelus holds a barely contained cold rage. She will more than willingly harm those who threaten her life, taking full advantage of the small amount of combat training she received during her days at the Arkanian Imperial University. Though incidences of the Angelus personality rarely occur on the Wandering Wampa, it is possible she will take control for brief moments when Nadia¡¯s stress levels are extremely high or when her life is directly threatened. Under extreme pressure, Angelus would most likely react in an uncaring manner; while under direct threat to her safety, Angelus would most likely react with violence to stop the opposition.

Angelus has not had a chance to fully control Nadia since she awakened in the Correllian hospital, but most likely, she will find an opportunity to resurface.

23 January 2004, 02:33 PM
Thanks for the kid words, BRodgers. My players groan whenever I even mention the word 'droid'. I forsee them stocking up on ion weaponry in the future.

That's one heck of pyschological profile you've created there, dragonseye. Every campaign needs at least one Arkanian mad scientist!

It's a shame that this thread isn't getting much attention. A wealth of NPCs and character concepts could easily spawn from these descriptions.

Next up: Enter Darth Fabio

Darth Fierce
24 January 2004, 05:33 PM
I added quite a bit to the character sketch for Terryn Ridat (above) this evening. Though his background's not done yet, I feel I've added a bit more substance to him.

Darth Fierce :vader:

Darth Fierce
27 January 2004, 04:25 AM

Species: Jawa
Age: 17
Height: 3'9"
Weight: 70 lb.
Planet of Residence: Orrica (an industrial world within Hutt Space)

Physical appearance: Much like the majority of her species, Irniit believes on keeping the galaxy at large from knowing exactly what she looks like. Most of the time, she will appear to others as a tiny being with piercing yellow eyes shuffling under a brown robe that almost seems too big for her. Occasionally, though, she may don an environmental suit that hides her body from others when traveling through hazardous conditions. It is said that outside her species only one being knows exactly what Irniit looks like. That being is her employer,Terryn Ridat, who has sworn to keep Irniit's appearance a secret from any other individual even to the point of potentially dying to do so.


Irniit (of Clan Himitee) has lived more of a life in her few years than most of her species could even dream of in the span of several decades. While an adolescent within one of her clan's sandcrawlers, Irniit discovered a fascination in tinkering with broken-down droids. Irniit, along with her brother Agee, would spend hours at a time, lovingly repairing each droid for resale (often replacing former features for enhanced or alternative components). Irniit and Agee found ways to turn WED Treadwell droids into mobile moisture vaporators and to enhance the rare medical droids they found along their sandcrawler's journey with protocol programming as well to create artifical physicians that showed more caring to the livings' conditions than the droids' unenhanced counterparts).

More on Irniit's background soon...

Darth Fierce :vader:

29 January 2004, 07:15 AM
I have sworn an oath to keep this thread alive! Well, not really an oath per se. Okay, so I haven't sworn anything. But I do want to keep this thing going.

Darth Fabio

True name: Fabioleesta'nihl'astleeah
Species: Squib
Age: 33
Hieght: 3'5"
Weight: 56 lbs.
Era: Old Republic (c. 1,200 BBY)

Fabioleesta'nihl'astleeah is a devlishly deceptive Squib. He never adapted to his species particular haggling ways, having a dark heart and a quick temper. His *cough*, mastery of the Force has enabled him to rise above your average Squib and elevate himself to become a true bane of the fates of lesser beings, *cough, cough*.

Fabio was whelped in hyperspace, born within a semi-prosperous trading clan, whose vessel, the SquibStar VII, plied the tradelanes of the Outer Rim. As a youth Fabio never seemed to care much for trading and haggling, the accepted Squib ways of life, and carried with him a mean streak, a rare thing indeed among the Squib. Fabio enjoyed tormenting his fellow Squibs and took much delight in tearing the legs off of the numerous insects found in the bowels of the ship. Most Squibs gave him a wide bearth and sadly mourned the loss of a potential trader among thier ranks.

Fabio seethed in hatred for many years, despising this miserable lot that was his life. But a chance encounter on the Outer Rim world of Gaala, during a bit of shore leave for the crew of the SquibStar VII, would change the fate of Fabio forever.

Getting as far away from his Squb brethren as possible, Fabio began to explore the small frontier trading oupost of Pohl, a few kilometers south of Gaala's only spaceport. Being thisty, Fabio favored a drink or two, and began an earnest search for the local cantina. Soon though, Fabio's wandering led him into Pohl's notorious back alleys, where cruel deeds and secrets were a way of life. He heard the commotion before he saw it, and crept silently to the corner of a crumbling wall to view the action hidden amongst the waning sun's shadows. Fabio was stunned at what he witnessed. A group of tough-looking Rodian thugs were squaring off with a Jedi! Now of course Fabio had heard of the legendary exploits of the Jedi and knew that the Rodians were no match for this warrior. But the Jedi was severely wounded, and fighting for his life. One of the Rodian thugs had flanked the Jedi, and fired his blaster squarely between his shoulders. Fabio watched in amazement as the Jedi crumpled to the ground, the life slowly draining from his battered body.

But the Jedi was not finished yet. He called upon the Force one final time and sent a fierce blast of Force energy at the thugs. The Rodians falling dead even before they hit the ground. Fabio waited a few momements, and when no one stirred, he slowly ventured out to witness the carnage. The Jedi was his focal point, and Fabio much desired to see one of the fabled lightsabers of legend. He jumped back when the Jedi, still alive, rolled over and looked Fabio dead in the eyes.
"I sense much hate within you, young one. Avenge me!" And thereupon the Jedi promptly died.

Fabio's Squib instincts took over, and he thoroughly looted all the bodies in the area, starting with the now dead Jedi's. He discovered the lightsaber he so eagerly sought, as well as several datacards, a starship registry and landing permit, and a strange black pyramid, which pulsed with an unholy glow. The Jedi's dark robe he took as well, enjoying the feel of the fine material. He took these items to the landing bay where the Jedi's sleek craft lay. Fabio recognized his oppotunity to flee from the boredom of the Squib way, and fled from Gaala, heading for the freedom of the spacelanes.

Over time Fabio learned many things about the dead Jedi. He had fled the Jedi Order as an apprentice, and had begun to study the ancient ways of the Sith. He had even aquired a minor Sith holocron, created in the days when the Sith were numerous in the galaxy. The ancient voices within the holocron helped Fabio realize his potential in the Force, meager as it was. One of the many teachers within the holocron taught him the arts of the lightsaber, another trained him in the Force skills necessary to crush the life from other beings, and still another taught him the ways of the ancient Sith. Not that Fabio truly cared much about the Sith or thier ways. He mostly just wanted the power these teachings offered him. He took to wearing the dark robes of the dead Jedi, even though they were much too long for the tiny Squib, and he tripped over their flowing ends often. His skill with the crimson lightsaber was great, though his small hands were inherently clumsy, and he had a bad habit of dropping his weapon at the worst possible momemnts.

Fabio's hate grew daily and his power increased. Not a lot mind you, but just enough to make him dangerous. The Sith teachings of the holocron began to take their insidious hold upon him, and he vowed to avenge the Jedi who had been slain before his eyes. But first and foremeost, he wanted power and respect. He envisioned himself training a whole army of dark, Force-using Squib warriors, to wreak unsuspecting havoc upon the galaxy, and rule the tradelanes with an iron fist. He desired to savagely dominate those who had born him into the universe and make them his pawns to do with as he pleased. The voices in the holocron were pleased, and granted him a new name, one steeped in Sith tradition. From now on Fabioleesta'nihl'astleeah would be known as Darth Fabio. The masters of the holocron said it meant "Dark Lord" or somesuch, but Fabio cared not. It was eaiser to say and had a menacing ring to it.

Darth Fabio sowed much havoc indeed over the next several years, killing those who opposed him and ensnaring young Squibs in his web of deceit. But mostly he just tortured and berated people. The sight of the Dark Squib, as he became known, sent most fleeing, and more than a few clutching their throats in agony. Many more however clutched their guts in laughter, for the Dark Squib was a clumsy as he is stupid.
Occassionaly a brave soul would challenge Darth Fabio to a duel, and invariably Fabio would drop his saber and trip over his cloak many times before the battle's end. But somehow, Darth Fabio always proved the victor. A series of small notches on his lightsaber's hilt indicated the number of Jedi he had slain. His grand total was 11, but 9 were 1st year Padawans, one had been shot in both legs when Fabio challenged him, and one he simply pushed off a cliff with a touch of the Force when the Jedi wasn't looking.

Darth Fabio is indeed a threat to galaxy, but only a minor one. He can often be found travelling in the Outer Rim, in his sleek vessel, the SithSquib I. A few Jedi are aware of Fabio's actions, but considering the growing threat of ACTUAL Sith warriors, they pay him little concern. All but one, for the the Jedi Master Squint Flembek, has sworn himself an enemy of Darth Fabio, and has vowed to bring the Dark Squib to justice.

But that is a tale for another post...

29 January 2004, 10:48 AM
Very nice, johnnyputrid! lol

31 January 2004, 04:31 PM
Thanks you for starting this wonderful thread Darklighter, 'cause johhny ain't finished yet!

Squint Flembek

Species: Human
Age: 42
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 210 lbs.
Era: Old Republic (c. 1,200 years BBY)

Squint Flembek began his Jedi career at an age much earlier than other Jedi of his time. Born on Chalacta, his mother, stricken with a fatal illness, offered the child to the Jedi Order, hoping for a better life for the young infant than she could provide, as she was about to be dead and all. Squint was raised within the Jedi Temple on Coruscant along with a few others, being among the first generation of Jedi to be trained in the 'new' manner which would soon be universally adopted by the Order.

Squint's early training revealed a great talent for the lightsaber, as well as prowess with many of the more physically-based Force skills. Unlike other young Jedi, however, Squint displayed almost no talent for diplomacy and negotiation, and would likely never be revered for his wisdom. Many of the learned Masters of the Order questioned this young and uncouth child's value to the Jedi, but no one could deny his obvious growing combat skills.

When Squint reached the age of 10, he was chosen by a well-respected Jedi, Master Olorthom Nolonc, to be his Padawan. Over the next 10 years Master Nolonc taught Squint much about the Jedi way, but was secretly disheartened at the boy's complete lack of wisdom. Squint eventually, and just barely, overcame the Jedi Trials (in which the patience of several Jedi Masters was also tested) and became a Jedi Knight shortly after his 20th birthday.

Squint's reputation as a fierce combatant and skilled tactician earned him many accolades as he championed many noble causes for the Jedi Order and the Republic. But he managed to bungle just as many sensitive negotiations and critical situations with his poor sense of character reading and general awareness. He once managed to single-handedly destroy the entire politcal stability of the Bekwold Sector, which contained 32 seperate systems, by mistaking the Vice Regent's daughter for a man. Honor was a matter of life and death within the high courts of Bekwold, and Squint was banished under pain of death. Squint of course took everything in stride, having failed to fathom any of the events which transpired during his tenure there.

Even Squint's bumbling could not dissuade the Council's opinion of his combat skills, and many Jedi Masters sensed the return of the Sith into Republic space. Squint's position within the Order was soldified. He was a fighter, plain and simple, and at the time the Jedi needed fighters.
Squint never wanted much from life, just the freedom to wander the galaxy and fight for the common people of the Republic. Occassionaly, Squint would end up actually fighting the common people of the Republic, but this was often overlooked, knowing his prediliction for making unwise, yet honest mistakes.

When Squint reached the age of 35 he was considered in his prime for a Jedi warrior, and was encouraged to take on a Padawan of his own, much to the dismay of many prominent Jedi at the time. A few Masters saw his ability to teach though, and soon Jedi Padawan Dillio Bushwa had a new master. Squint was an effective teacher, though many lessons in which every Jedi needed knowledge of were often cast aside for additional lightsaber drills. Squint and Dillio became a great team, fighting side by side in several great battles against the growing number of Dark Jedi and minor Sith disciples. In one such battle, Squint met the being who was to become his archenemy, the focus of his fighting spirit, Darth Fabio. If Squint had known the truth about Darth Fabio, he probably wouldn't have even bothered with the tiny Squib. But Squint was convinced that Darth Fabio was an evil Sith genius, the mastermind behind the reemergence of the Sith brotherhood. His apprentice Dillio, of course, recognized Darth Fabio for the imposter he was, but Squint would hear none of it.

The Jedi Council soon grew weary of Master Flembek's repeated requests to hunt down Darth Fabio and his minions, to end the threat of the Sith forever. Thank the Maker the Council never listened his pleas. Instead, Squint and Dillio were usually assigned to minor conflicts in the Mid and Outer Rims, more to keep Squint out of their hair than anything else. Despite Flembek's teachings, Dillio was turning into a fine apprentice, and Squint was most pleased with his Padawan's progress.
But many important lessons passed Dillio by, and his actions were very different from other Jedi of his age. Squint taught Dillio the value of women, wine, and song, things he had learned from the many soldiers he'd led into combat on a hundred different worlds. So while Dillio grew to be strong in the Force and a skilled Jedi, his weakness for material and personal pleasures often put him at odds with his missions.

Squint Flembek and Dillio Bushwa are nearing the end of their Master-Apprentice relationship, with surprisingly little tension between the two. With Dillio's natural charm and talent for negotiation, and Squint's finely tuned warrior abilities, the two Jedi feel that their paths will never stray too far apart.

Squint, now in his 40s, is a still a powerfully built man, with short, close-cropped hair and a salt-and-pepper beard. His eyes shine with a brightness that somehow manages to hid his many ineptitudes, making him quite a deceiving character. His penchant for outrageously colored Jedi robes makes him stand out in any crowd, though the ready prescence of his glowing verdant lightsaber keeps most comments from escaping their owner's lips. It is said that if the services of Master Flembek and his apprentice are required, don't bother calling on the Jedi Order for help. Simply find any dingy cantina, on any backwater world which boasts exotic dancing girls. They'll usually be there, in the back, mugs of synthehol in one hand, lightsabers in the other.

Vash Knives
1 February 2004, 04:20 AM
Originally posted by johnnyputrid
Simply find any dingy cantina, on any backwater world which boasts exotic dancing girls. They'll usually be there, in the back, mugs of synthehol in one hand, lightsabers in the other.
I'll keep that in mind...

Kyle Pantrakahs
11 February 2004, 12:41 PM
Name: Kyle Pantrakahs (Pan-tra-kahz)
Species: Human
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 155 lbs
Hair: light brown
Eyes: brown
Age: 20 (at the end of the Yuuzhan Vong Conflict)

Born on the Outer Rim world of Dantooine, Kyle Pantrakahs was named after the acclaimed New Republic war hero Kyle Katarn. He was proud of bearing the name of the Imperial-turned-Jedi, and from childhood, resolved to be a Jedi himself. His parents, both Rebel veterans (His father Logan had worked as a spy and his mother Jael had flown with Green Squadron,) had settled deep in the wilderness of the virtually uninhabited planet to hide from agents of the Imperial Remnants who still pursued Logan. They educated their son in the history of the Jedi and the Old Republic from birth. Self-taught in his Force abilities until age twelve, he left his homeworld by hitching a ride with a group of smugglers, and eventually found his way to Luke Skywalker’s Jedi Academy on Yavin 4. While at the Academy, he not only learned the ways of the Force, but also how to fly starships with the help of his friend Miko Reglia. Kyle was an eager student, but missed his parents, whom he had promised to return to once his Jedi training was completed.

Four years of diligent study later, as Kyle was coming close to attaining Jedi Knight level, the Yuuzhan Vong invasion began. His homeworld was one of the first planets to fall to the Vong, but, mindful of what the future would bring, his parents had already left as the Republic stopped the initial Vong onslaught.

As Logan and Jael fled Dantooine for the then-safe Core Worlds, the freighter they traveled on was attacked and boarded by the Peace Brigade. The terrorists demanded for any Jedi or people who had connections to one be turned over, lest all the passengers be shot. Logan and Jael gave themselves up to protect their fellow refugees, but as soon as they did, they were murdered in cold blood and the Peace Brigadiers killed the other passengers anyway.

Kyle had left Yavin 4 in an A-wing and flown to Corellia, where he was supposed to meet his parents. After hearing the news of his homeworld’s fall and his parents’ murders, he was consumed by a despairing rage. He retreated to seclusion in the swamplands of Naboo. And there, as the dark side powerfully assailed him, he fell under the menacing presence of the slain Sith Darth Maul.

Constructing a double-bladed lightsaber and copying the evil warrior’s fighting style, Kyle, like Kyp Durron before him, vowed a loyal apprenticeship to a long-dead Sith and swore he would somehow, someday, destroy the Yuuzhan Vong and exact complete vengeance from the Peace Brigade.

Armed with his new double weapon and what seemed immeasurable new power, he left the swamps and tracked down a contingent of Peace Brigadiers in hiding on the Twi’lek homeworld of Ryloth. He fell upon the group of some 100 beings, attacking with his full fury coursing through him. As he mercilessly struck down the terrorists, he didn’t even notice he had freed a prisoner they were holding. She happened to be a Jedi by the name of Mariah Kray-Sal. She stared in horror and amazement as Kyle struck down one of her former captors, who didn’t even have a nanosecond to show his surprise as the “hilt” of the lightsaber ignited in his face.

After only five minutes of battle, all 100 Peace Brigadiers were slain.

Feeling the overwhelming dark side presence running through Kyle, Mariah recovered her blue lightsaber and stood on guard. Kyle flailed at her but then suddenly collapsed as a searing pain burnt through his whole body.

He saw a vision of himself, fighting and driving back a large group of Yuuzhan Vong warriors, and then, as the leader of the band fell, Kyle stood up to take the place of his adversary. He was becoming something even more ruthless than the Vong and even more treasonous than the Peace Brigade. He was betraying himself, the Force, and all those who had loved him.

Tortured by remorse, he struggled to drive the dark side away. He almost died when it took its final toll as it left him. Mariah brought him to a secret location in the caves of the stony Ryloth wilderness, where he gradually recovered his strength and completely purged what was left of the dark side within himself.

Kyle kept his double lightsaber, but changed its power crystals, so the once-scarlet blades now glow green, in remembrance of the rolling woodlands and pastures of his beloved planet. Now, the style and the weapon of Darth Maul fight for the light side.

Mariah and Kyle became like brother and sister and they recently joined forces with Kyle’s hero, a dream come true for the young man. Together, they work with Captain Katarn to develop new tactics against the Yuuzhan Vong invaders and to bring the members of the Peace Brigade to justice.

Kyle Pantrakahs
13 February 2004, 07:48 PM
Another char of mine I'm working on... B)

Name: Linora Sivron
Gender: Female
Species: Twi'lek
Skin: Scarlet red
Eyes: Peach
Height: 5'8"
Weight: 130
Age: 30 (at the end of the Yuuzhan Vong conflict)

Little is known about Linora Sivron other than that she was once a protégé of decorated New Republic Intelligence Agent Showolter. She worked several routine assignments for NRI before the Yuuzhan Vong invasion and eventually attained the rank of lieutenant. Upon the Yuuzhan Vong invasion and the forming of the collaborationist Peace Brigade, Linora desired to infiltrate the organization. However, her ideas were ignored and she could do little since the Republic refused to acknowledge the terrorist group as an enemy.

She defied her orders, using her looks and charm to gain the confidence of several Peace Brigade officers, all of whom would later have thermal detonators go off under their beds or beneath the control consoles of their personal ships.

Upon finding out of her actions, NRI disavowed Linora and dispatched a pair of assassins to eliminate her. She managed to kill them both, though she left with some nasty bruises and a trailing scar on her right thigh, given by one attacker’s vibrodagger.

Linora managed to find a handful more of similarly disavowed agents, and they offered their services to the Zeltron anti-Vong political activist Adriav Karrim. Karrim wanted to form an underground strike force to counter the Vong once they descended onto Coruscant, and Linora eagerly accepted the idea. With Karrim, she gathered a willing group of about 30 beings. Soon dubbed “The Spyders,” they consisted of types ranging from former mercenaries looking for a battle to angry civilians seeking revenge for slain family members.

Linora is a typical Twi’lek, weighing the situation from the shadows and striking when the best opportunity arises. While appearing somewhat cold and distant to some, she is fiercely loyal to those that have gained her trust. As beautiful as she is deadly, her preferred tactic is to charm her foe into a false sense of security before making her deadly move. Against Yuuzhan Vong however, she prefers only one method: shooting without warning.

29 March 2006, 04:19 PM
Somebody ought to resurrect this thread.

Darth Fierce
30 March 2006, 04:44 AM
Yeah...I agree. I've just never really had the time to completely flesh out the characters I orignally created. Maybe I'll get back to it sometime soon, but I also need to work on the "Friends and Foes Compendium" thread.

Darth Fierce :vader:

2 April 2006, 06:01 AM
Looks like once I flesh out his background a bit more, I'll have a char to put up here:

Beta Psy 101, 'Necro'

2 April 2006, 04:20 PM
Alright- now bear in mind that my group has a very peculiar habit of running "multiple PC" campaigns within multiple PC campaigns- so most of those mentioned actually are PCs or major NPCs ;) We also like cognate characters "exploring differant potential aspects and whatnot of the same concepts" (the father/son relationship, siblings, naval careers), which kind of makes sense, since three of the group are actually related (well, two and the GM). Also, I might not remember the details perfectly, as this has gone on for a bit, but what seems to be a continuity error is likely there on purpose as part of our AU for the campaign. I might at some point post up my other two main characters from this uber-campaign, if I can find/remember my notes. More likely I'll post a slightly embellished story hour of this part of the campaign.

Name: Captain Rostek Pellaeon
Gender: Male
Species: Human (Corellian)
Skin: White (pale)
Eyes: Blue
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 230
Age: 36 (ca. the end of ANH)
Appearance: Rostek Pellaeon appears to be a man in his late-thirties, complete with gray streaks in his formally dark brown temples and a massive lum-gut which makes his uniform look almost silly when the belt is worn too tight, too low. He cultivates a clean mustache, and since the end of his Imperial service, he has allowed his hair to grow beyond what he could get away with in the military, and has allowed a full beard to take hold. When in his proper environment, his moon-shaped face holds a politely indifferant, yet somehow comforting expression, with deeply set blue eyes and a clear but firm and reassuring voice adding to the ambiance of easy command which he seems to embody. Few who do not already know his profession would guess he was a starship captain, much less a warship captain, as outside of his bridge he wears a moderately friendly look and has a very trustworthy if uncharismatic air about him.

Story (or part of it, at least...):
Rostek Pellaeon was born in the deep of winter, near Coronet City on Corellia. His parents, Ton and Micel Pellaeon, had nearly given up on children, so the appearance of Rostek and his brother Zane two years later proved to be a great but pleasant surprise-- one which inclined them to spoil both boys as much as their modest salaries (of a naval officer and schoolteacher, respectively) would allow. Being unable to afford the more flamboyant accoutrements of wealth, the Pellaeon's instead chose to foster the more intangible but ultimately more useful wants of their sons' minds. Both proved to be intelligent, but Rostek in particular was a brilliant if very lazy student, bringing home above average marks without much effort, despite his apparent ability to do significantly better. Zane, a much more diligent student, also excelled in athletics where his brother did not, preferring shockball to debate and track and field to the fine arts, though both participated to the best of their ability in the other's activities with mixed success so as to keep together with each other and their mutual circle of friends. One might say "they were close".
An area both loved dearly and both excelled at was the vocational aeronautics training they received at Caruba-3 Naval Academy, where both spent their secondary school years, thanks to their father's being the old Academy roommate of the commandant. Caruba-3, while not in the Core and therefore viewed as inferior by Core World families, was and is still considered the finest naval prep school in the Colonies, and unlike its more Coreward counterparts, fell into the Pellaeon's price range, and was in the middle of a Republic-friendly sector which had thus far been untouched by the Clone Wars.
Like all their fellow cadets, Zane and Rostek were put into starship operations courses in addition to their military theory, science and history class work, where they learned the basic principles of piloting everything from a system jumper to a capital ship, and the basics of command, which both brothers absorbed deeply- so much so that both we made in their turn Cadet-Captain (which the other students- probably rightly to some extent- attributed to cronyism). Unlike their fellow cadets, the Pellaeon boys eschewed the sleek and fast starfighters, and instead gravitated towards the capital ships, like the one their father commanded.
Rostek graduated comfortably towards the bottom of the top 10 percent of his class, despite failing his physical fitness test multiple times- which he now considers ironically as one of the few times the influx of cronyism into the Navy actually helped his career, while Zane (typically) graduated at the top of his class, and set a record on the endurance course.
At 17, Rostek was put into the book as a midshipman aboard the light cruiser Challenger, where he served for nearly a year, seeing action on several occasions, until he was accepted into the then-Republic Naval Academy at Raithal. While on board the Challenger, Rostek developed a crush on Jedi Padawan Cel Margo, who was the task force commander and often hovered at his shoulder at the Tactical Display Board on the bridge, where the young mid was stationed as the visual information relay between the bridge and combat information center. Rostek, being shy by nature and very aware of his lack of holostar looks and eccentric personal habits, never vocalized his feelings and intellectualized them as "a hormonal reaction, compounded by the stress of wartime". His only interaction with the padawan commander came at the TacBoard, and the only words exchanged between then other than pleasantries and business came when Rostek was showered by shrapnel from an exploding console, and the Jedi checked and healed him. Throughout his life, Rostek never forgot the comforting smile and the accompanying "You will be alright" that Cel gave him before he passed out from the blood loss from his scalp wound.
With his tour over and recommendation from the Challenger's captain in hand, Rostek left the ship for Raithal, where he specialized in capital ship operations and tactical theory. Towards the middle of his freshman year, the Republic became the Empire, which was the first of many downhill moments of Rostek's naval career. Finding his first love, history, co-opted slowly but surely by the new government's edicts, Rostek grew increasingly cynical about the new government which, as one might expect, proved to be a drag on his "political reliability" evaluations. Zane, who by this point had rejoined the scene, was also having significant problems with the transition. The political evaluations were managing to put a dent in his beloved GPA and relegated him to the junior varsity shockball team, both of which disgusted him to no end,
The two graduated disappointedly towards the bottom of the top 25 percent of their respective classes, and were both denied placement aboard a star destroyer- which most of the top quarter of their classes were headed (SDs being a choice assignment). At the recommendation of second cousin (once removed) Gilead (then a First Lieutenant), both brothers requested assignment to patrol craft, which proved to be terribly boring- if safe- work.
By this time, Ton Pellaeon had become fed up with the new Imperial Navy, and had resigned his commission (then a Commander, captaining the Dreadnaught Indefatigable) after three years of nearly constant combat and three years of rapid change in the Navy. Using the bulk of his remaining financial resources, he bought a Corellian Corvette from the surplus yard and converted it into a secure cargo vessel, which was the genesis of a minor smuggling organization... while both Pellaeon boys were serving in smuggling interdiction task forces.
At about this time as well, Pellaeon found the time to get engaged, married and produce issue. Somewhat unexpectedly, the young officer had found himself the object of affection for a young, pretty Alderaanian navy brat named Nicce Broadell, who in Rostek found the fulfillment of her paternal idolism, taste for the romantic and social position. Less than a year after their marriage, their first child, a boy named Valin, was born. He was soon followed by another boy named Mako 13 months later and another named Rostek Jr. a further 17 months later. Unfortunately, much like Nicce’s father, Rostek was rarely home, and even when the family relocated to Eriadu to be closer to the operating area of the Dreadnaught Rostek served on, he only managed to see his wife and children five weeks out of the year. While her husband was more apologetic about his absence than had been her father, and Rostek was unlikely to meet the same fate as the late Lt. Broadell (KIA at Duro) while on board the sector flagship, Nicce was still unable to cope with the stresses that come with being a Navy wife. The marriage imploded in spectacular fashion after 5 years (or approximately 29 weeks in each other’s presence as a married couple, 23 of which were as a parental couple), and Nicce moved back to Alderaan, and presumably died in the destruction of the planet’s moon and subsequent devastation of the planet*. The children presented an interesting problem, as Nicce apparently wanted no reminders of her now-hated ex-husband, and Rostek obviously wasn’t in the position to care for them. The solution, which no party was particularly fond of, was to turn the boys over to Rostek’s parents, who lived on Ton’s roving command ship, the corvette the Blue Dwarf. Obviously, placing his children on what he suspected to be the headquarters of a highly illegal smuggling operation didn’t sit well with Rostek, but with no other choice apparent and with Zane’s endorsement, he acceded.
The young officer’s first three tours on the Rim weren’t a total loss, however. On board the Dreadnaught Intransigent, Pellaeon made two acquaintances who would turn out to be lifetime friends. Matt Lasano and Bren Rendelli were weapons officers on board the Intransigent, and both had had their careers stall before their eyes during the reorganization in the navy. Rendelli had served with Rostek on the Challenger, and in the seven years since hand not advanced in rank, and Lessio had been in the Academy class ahead of Pellaeon, but Rostek had not had close relations with either man prior to the Intransigent, where their assignment to the same cabin fostered a close-knit friendship between the three. Zane, at this time, had been assigned to a courier making runs between the Intransigent’s sector and Eriadu, and so also befriended the other two.
Before the official destruction of his marriage, and after numerous setbacks, Rostek finally managed to secure his own command after nearly 4 years as a lieutenant- the PB-950 class patrol boat PB-2352. This assignment came at a price, however: the 2352 was assigned to a Rim patrol task force, which ran anti-pirate operations in three Rim sectors, an enormous physical area for so small a craft to operate independently of the main body… which was precisely the role the boat was assigned. Not willing to let what might be his only opportunity to get his foot in the door of command slip past, Rostek accepted the assignment, and spent two and a half years of long, monotonous patrol punctuated semi-routinely with terrifyingly intense combat with bands of semi-literate cutthroat thugs. The stress and isolation intensified Rostek’s eccentric tendencies and dislike of his corrupt government, but still he persevered with a closed mouth, stubbornly waiting for promotion to bigger and better things, which finally came after two long years as the first officer of a Corellian gunship, where he had the fortune of once again ending up with Lasano. Lieutenant Commander Pellaeon was given the Corellian corvette Brilliant, and in his first act requested Lts. Rendelli and Lasano be assigned to his ship, which was granted without delay. Command was happy to see one troublemaker sucking all of their other troublemakers from more worthy ships, a sentiment that they would come to regret. Cousin Gilead, though glad for any boosting of the family name, was more than mildly annoyed that his cousins were outpacing him in the promotion game. Of course, he was sitting on a star destroyer bridge, while Rostek and Zane were sitting in patrol ships off in the ass-end of the galaxy, and cousin Ton, who had made commander years earlier despite being three years younger (though he had had the benefit of starting off as an officer), was now- as far as Gilead and the rest of the Empire knew, pushing cargo on some cast-off surplus scow.
Five years of record-setting-efficiency rating patrols on the Rim and one major refit later, soon-to-be Cmdr. Pellaeon was still captain of the Brilliant and now the head of a patrol line, while Rendelli had been given a Sienar Guardian-class Light Cutter, the Redoubt, and Lasano was the first officer preparing for his transfer to a command of his own. Even Zane had managed a command by this point- the old PB-2352 had been reassigned with the Redoubt to the 1278th Patrol Line under Rostek. The Brilliant had been upgraded for long range patrol- given hull extensions, improved arms loadout and increased carried craft capacity. The corvette now carried a Lambda shuttle and a Delta-class stormtrooper transport to service the two squads of stormtroopers assigned to the ship, along with provision for a flight of TIE/rc fighters in the dorsal bay.
Pellaeon’s line was charged with assisting in the search for the privateer the Far Orbit, and the ships were called in from the far reaches of the Outer Rim into the Core, where the crafty captains and their ships would be of most use to the Empire. After getting a fresh crew rotation made up mainly of conscripts (thus defeating the purpose of “experienced ships” to assist in the search), the line left for the Ringali Shell, but not before the Brilliant made a stop at Caruba-3. After his move from patrol craft to capital ships, Pellaeon had had more time to spend with his sons, who had rather mixed reactions to the change in the father-son relationship. Mako was ecstatic, as he shared his father’s love of all things naval, whereas Valin greatly resented Rostek for his lack of participation in his early life. Unlike Mako and Junior, Valin remembers vividly those terrible last days of his parents’ relationship, when his mother raged at his father for his absences, while Rostek stood stoically and took her abuse- knowing he had no defense that would satisfy her. Nevertheless, both were signed up to attend Caruba-3 when they came of proper age (which had lowered in the preferred Imperial fashion from 14 to 12), and each displayed aptitude for naval life, though Valin exhibited a worrying (to Rostek and Zane) preoccupation with sleek and nimble starfighters instead of the stately and powerful capital ships that his relatives and ancestors had long called their territory.
While the ship is stopped at Caruba-3, Zane and Rostek witness the graduation of Valin from the Academy, along with Lasano’s eldest son (he had somehow managed to keep his marriage together, despite an assignment sheet more degrading and tedious than either Pellaeon). Seizing upon an opportunity, the commander offers Valin and Niles Lasano midshipman’s berths, and offers to transport two of their friends home to the Core given the moratorium on academy shuttles going into the Shell. Additionally, Eddard Lucent- the only child of a late-academy friend of Zane’s is also signed into the book as a favor to the boy’s mother. While the technical age of consent to enlist is 16, bookkeeping can hide a lot- as Rostek has found over the years, and in any case, the cadets fit in well among the crew, most of whom were barely older than the graduates, and the Outer Rim farmboys were much less familiar with ship-systems than the academy students, who proved useful as instructors in some of the finer points of starship operations. Even Valin, who only took the midshipman’s berth as a “personal favor” to his father, enjoyed his time on board more than he though he would, despite his best efforts to sour his outlook.
Upon reaching the Core, Pellaeon was unexpectedly given a new ship with his promotion to commander, and Lasano, denied his expected promotion for the time, remained XO of the corvette as Rendelli took over the Brilliant, while Pellaeon shifted his flag to the Corellian Frigate Audacious*. 215 meters long and packing eight turbolaser batteries, the Audacious was a step up in main firepower from the Brilliant’s pair of twin turbolaser turrets. Redoubt was left behind at Brentaal, and the three ship task force rendezvoused with Captain Kenit, who dispatched them to tail a decoy convoy which was created to be too tempting a target for the Far Orbit to ignore.
As it happened, Captain Vedij did show up, to find half a dozen bulk freighters with their engines powered down under the guns of three ships sporting Imperial Navy colors.

Except from the Game Write-up:

Rostek stared deeply into the electric blue torrent of energy that was hyperspace, fighting a battle in his mind- trying to decide whether the course of action he was about to take was the right thing to do. He had dedicated his best years to the Navy, and he somberly noted a few months previously that he had spent more than half his life in the service, and now… now he was going to desert it. No, he thought, I’m going to live up to what the service represents… for once in my life. He smiled grimly, and counted down in his head as Ensign Harras counted down time until reversion. 10, 9…. Harras- he would have to be dealt with, as would Junior Lieutenant Makern at Comms, then of course the CompForce Observer, and the ISB mole in the engineering crew— the stormtroopers as well; that went without saying. But then, Pellaeon had already arranged for all of that. 7, 6, 5…. He tapped a button on his display, triggering the incendiary device that Sgt. Howtun of the ship’s Naval Security compliment had placed in Cargo Hold B, setting off a chain reaction that would eliminate most of his problems in one fell swoop. 4, 3…. Right about now, the damage control crew containing Deckhand, 2nd Class Arles, the ISB mole, and Midshipman Niles Lasano would be making its way toward the fire, and as the ship emerged into realspace, the riot alarm triggered by Junior would summon the stormtroopers to the bay as well, and once the troopers enter the bay to cover the damage control team and deal with the threat, Howtun’s stun mines would go off as Midshipman Lasano sealed the door. Once that deed is done, the elements of the team that Pellaeon trusted would secure the troopers and the rest of the team while Sgt. Howtun and Lt. Peal of the Naval Security detail dealt with any counter uprisings. The process would be repeated, albeit with different players, on board the corvette, and by now, Zane has already subdued the three crew of his boat who were of unsure loyalties. Rostek knew he had taken a calculated risk in putting Mako on the Brilliant, but if he couldn’t trust his child with his two best non-related friends in the universe, then who could he trust him with? In any case, Mako played a key part in the plot to take the corvette, a part few others in the task force could manage (at least few that the conspirators could trust so deeply). 2, 1- revert. The frigate emerged from hyperspace due aft of the convoy, and as per the plan, the riot alarm was triggered, sending the ship’s stormtrooper platoon into the bowels of the hold.
Looking regretfully over at Valin, who remained blissfully in the dark about the plan, Rostek sighed and punched his comm. “Now here this, now here this: This is Commander Rostek Pellaeon, and in accordance with Republic Navy Code of Military Justice Section D, Paragraph 3, I am announcing a general mutiny of the crew and officers of the Imperial Navy Frigate Audacious in response to aforementioned law regarding the necessary response to illegal orders. Those crew who do not wish to participate in the mutiny may remain in their quarters or at their stations, and will not be harmed- those of you who choose to resist… you will be put off the ship under force of arms if necessary.” he said smoothly over the intercom. The majority of the bridge crew wore a look of shock on their faces, but only Ensign Harras managed to regain his composure enough to reach for his sidearm. The stun blast took him full in the chest, and he crumpled against his station. Rostek swung around and took out Makern the Comms Officer with a similar shot, then continued talking into the intercom as if nothing had happened. “This is the bridge, request status reports from all sections.”
A flurry of curses and affirmative responses followed, and three bridge officers took the task of deterring the loyalties of their compatriots by way of brandishing their sidearms. Lieutenant Trill at the conn surrendered, as did Petty Officers Sine and Doggett at gunnery station A. The rest of the bridge crew cheered and went about the business of securing the ship’s systems from potential sabotage, or quietly surrendered their stations to those who would take part and returned to their quarters. Valin looked livid, but did not leave or surrender. The indoctrination process had left psychological sensitivities, and this was one of those soft spots- determining his loyalty… family or service… and future? Grudgingly, Valin looked to his station, kissing his dream of becoming an Academy grad and TIE fighter ace goodbye (another sin to lay at the feet of his father). Relieved, Rostek looked to the status board: all but two compartments were in mutineer hands, and the comm. system was locked to bridge control.
“Sir- this is Lieutenant Peal. Casualty reports are in from across the ship. We have nine dead, twenty-seven wounded… plus perhaps a dozen resisters dead and the rest, perhaps fifteen or so, have locked themselves in the crew recreation facilities. We are preparing to deliver stun gas through the ventilation, and we should have them in a few minutes. The stormtroopers have been disarmed along with the ISB personnel, and we’ve detained the latter in the brig so they can’t get away and cause mischief, sir. Make that eleven dead, sir… Ensign Crook and Petty Officer Sans didn’t make it, but the rest of the wounded are doing satisfactorily, sir.” the security officer reported, an inflection of sadness reaching his voice in reporting the last two deaths- men who had been with the Brilliant on at least one cruise, and like much of the crew, had been brought over with Pellaeon as followers. Rostek cursed; he had hoped that there would not be too much resistance, but sometimes one cannot account for everything…
“Signal Captain Rendelli, Val- Midshipman Pellaeon. Send “Code Omega, confirm Freedom, repeat, confirmation word is ‘Freedom’”. he said, holstering his blaster and allowing himself to relax a little. “Fire control, target main turbolaser batteries on the freighters, and broadcast the FC sensors as loudly as possible so they know what is going on. You-“ Rostek pointed to an anonymous Able Deckhand who had taken over the tractor control station, “- lock on to the second to rear ship. She’s carrying our meal ticket and our ‘get out of jail’ chit.” the mutinous captain ordered, as Valin reported confirmation from Bren and Mako on the Brilliant and the patrol boat. Rostek smiled.
Now, all we have to do is wait for Vedij to show up…

With three ships under his command, Pellaeon handed the prisoners over to the privateer, along with Valin’s friends, who had decided giddily to defect when they recalled that the Rebels also have a rather impressive fighter corps. Although tempted to accompany Lena and Rhys, Valin dutifully stayed with his father, after being reminded by Junior that if he were to leave, he would never get to see his father, uncle or brothers— and then it would be him who was worthy of self-pitying spite (not that Junior phrased it that way, of course…). While in the process of turning over the outright defectors, the list of crew families to be saved from the ISB gangs, the ships, their cargoes and the prisoners, the Pellaeons negotiated their conditional release with the Alliance Observer (hardly necessary, given the mutineer ships outgunned the Nebulon-B by a decent margin, even when gravely underhanded as they were, but a thoughtful gesture), and made flank speed for Starforge Nebula, where Pellaeon disembarked his gig with Zane, Mako and Midshipman Lasano, along with a dozen or so quartermasters and security troops for protection and the arrangement for supplies while Zane made contact with the Alliance representative on the station and negotiated the approach of the small line to the station (under heavy guard of the station’s defense forces and a few mercs and smugglers who had decided to “lend a hand”). Rostek felt that leaving the ship so soon after a successful mutiny may prove problematic for both crew morale and, frankly, there was the possibility that the crew might get some funny libertarian, even Rebel ideas without their authority figure around. Rostek may have supported the Rebel cause (“restoring the Republic”) and even their general form of warfare, but he was nothing if not axiomatic about his ship— democracy was all well and good as a system of government, but damned if it did not make for a shabby warship. In this, at least, there was little difference between Gilead and Rostek Pellaeon.
Once allowed to close on the station (defensive and offensive systems down, of course), the mutineers put off those who did not wish to continue with their former leaders and took on fuel, food, water and ammunition before putting the word out for experienced hands to man the severely depleted ships. The patrol boat and the recon TIEs were sold to the Rebels for the required cash, while the Audacious’ fighter squadron and most of her shuttle compliment was sold for the beginnings of a slush fund. A merc squad of four “Cloakshape Intruders”* and eight “Subpro Raiders”* was quickly hired, as they came with their own equipment, and in no small part because their captain, Cleary Lorcan, was a relation to the Pellaeons through their mother’s side.
The Rebel negotiators and O&AS representative worked quickly enough, and the Letter of Marque and Reprisal was done with within a month. Enough time for the ships to get fitted out for raiding operations, including the addition of ion cannon to the arsenal, and the purchase of a pair of pinnaces and a few assorted boarding ships
While I won’t elaborate on their string of cruises here, suffice to say that the Pellaeon brothers and crew were rather effective in their new vocation, and became a thorn in the Imperial’s side over the next four years, culminating in the daring cutting out of the ship of Rostek’s mid-hood from an Imperial spacedock and the rediscovery of certain other Clone War relics that either failed to die in either body or soul.
After that… we aren’t entirely certain, perhaps a certain snubjock named Antilles would be interested in the services of a Carrack-class light cruiser and her corvette cohorts, and a few slightly used attack fighters in his little Colonial brush war?*

*Obviously, this is one of the campaign’s major deviations from canon. We felt that it would be more interesting if Alderaan had not been destroyed, but had instead been devastated ala “The Endor Holocaust”, leaving things open for the characters in the three co-existing groups in this AU to do stuff like run the quarantine to bring in supplies to survivors or rescue trapped Rebel agents and whatnot. Plus, it leaves open some interesting what-ifs, while still maintaining the destruction of 90% of the population and the entire technological infrastructure, leaving the planet a hell of post-apocalyptic devastation. One of our other groups (the smugglers) crash-landed on Alderaan after trying to run the blockade. We had a lot of fun with that :), but that’s for another one of these…
*Inspired by the CC-5500 over at DLOS, though modified a bit to make it a little closer to the Nebulon in firepower, endurance and crew requirements.
* Think a Cloakshape crossed with an A-6… yeah, it is that awesome.
*Think a Star Wars-ized A-4… yeah, it’s also that awesome :P
* That’s the proposition on the table for when we get back together this summer :)[/i]

Enjoy, but take with a grain of salt on the accuracy (and don't make me make my dad dig up my character notes from my desk drawers at home ;)).

Darren Star
5 April 2006, 08:45 PM
Hi Everyone, my name is Darren. I'm new here to this forum. I'm not used to playing on an RPG forum (yet), but i'm looking forward to it.

Anyways, this was my first Star Wars character I had created.... based on the D6 system. My original rough draft for this character wasn't as creatively written as it is now, but over time, I had tried to add a more colorful and humorus background for him. So, without further 'addooo' (Lol)... here goes.

Character name: BrightEyes
Character type: Jawa Trader / Tech
Species: JAWA Character points: 5
Gender: male Force points: 1
Height: 4 ft. 1 inches ( ? meters) Move: 10
Weight: 72 lbs. ( ? kg) Age: 26
Eyes: bright yellow Homeworld: Tatooine

Special abilities: Trade Language ... Jawas have developed a very
quick-spoken, and confusing "jibber" language, that can be unintelligible
to other species ... when Jawas want it to be.

Physical Description:

BrightEyes is slightly taller than most Jawas (and alittle more fit). He wears a braided Bantha-hair-sash across his left shoulder .........
(over-top of his bandoleers), and carries his Ion Blaster on his right side. He also wears a toolbelt and backpack (most of the time), and he always has his brown leather credit pouch securely attached to the front of his waist strap. BrightEyes keeps his canteen and food pouch slung to the opposite side of his Ion Blaster, pushed back towards his backpack (behind his left arm). BrightEyes usually has a droid ........ (of some sort) following him around. Currently, he's got an ASP-7 droid carrying all of his extra gear. So, if you're ever looking for him, it should be fairly easy to distinguish BrightEyes from all the other Jawas ... just look for a droid (following a Jawa) wearing a tool harness, and a big, heavy backpack.

BrightEyes got his name for being a clever and witty tradesman. All
of his customers began calling him that (mostly out of anger) because
they could hardly ever out-barter him. However, they were usually
pleased with his workmanship. BrightEyes is highly excitable (as most Jawas are), particularly when high-tech machinery and items are concerned. He prefers the company of other Jawas, but he isn't against the company of other sentients. In fact, he enjoys meeting new "suckers" ...(err, customers) to "hustle" ...(err, to do business with). When BrightEyes isn't busy with customers, he is energetically involved with his work. To him, nothing else matters in the Universe except tinkering and building, improving and modifying, salvaging and recycling, trading and selling, and sometimes stealing ... and then re-selling those stolen items over and over ! BrightEyes is very good at stealing, but he doesn't think of it as a crime ... he only sees it as a "great bargain".

BrightEyes was born on Tatooine. He lived at the Bantha Hair Clan
village (a desert fortress), until he was old enough to work on one of
the clan's Sandcrawlers.
While he was still young, BrightEyes would participate in a monthly
ritual (as all the young Jawas of this clan did). This tribal ceremony
involved members of the clan to watch, and bear witness to the "Bantha Hair Trials".
This activity began with a group of young Jawas getting smeared with Bantha-fodder (this was to hide their scent). Then the young group would proceed to sneak upon a grazing Bantha, and try to grab hold of its tail (in order to collect a hand-full of hair). The ultimate goal was to collect enough hairs (over time) to braid a full-body length
Bantha-hair-sash ... the other goal was to avoid getting covered in any more Bantha-fodder (which was flying everywhere from the panic-stricken beast).
While this event proved to be entertaining (for those watching), the
true purpose of this affair was to "ween" the young Jawas from their
mothers (as soon as possible), and to "encourage" the young to strike-out on their own. As you can imagine, this smelly ritual was very
effective ... and is still practiced today (exclusively by the Bantha Hair
Clan). So, if you ever see a Jawa wearing a braided Bantha-hair-sash ... you will know exactly where he came from.
So, when BrightEyes finally completed his Bantha-hair-sash (at age 6), he was more than willing to depart, and soon joined one of the clan's Sandcrawlers. Once aboard the Sandcrawler, BrightEyes quickly settled into his new home.
For the next 20 years, BrightEyes worked alongside very talented and inventive Jawas. He learned all the intricate workings of their
magnificent Sandcrawler. He gained an intimate knowledge of the desert, and learned many routes across it. He also learned where all the settlements, villages, towns, and cities were located ... as well as the space ports.
During their frequent stops (to sell and trade their goods),
BrightEyes eventually learned to understand "BASIC", and a few other alien tongues. He also learned the subtle (and not so subtle) arts of
bartering, bargaining, scamming, stealing, hustling, trading, and selling.
Ah yes, life aboard the Sandcrawler was great ! He was already
selling small trinkets at age 7, and he quickly realized the importance
(and power) of credits. It made him work harder. It made him more
focused. And as his skills improved, it made him more rich !
Life aboard the Sandcrawler was excellent hands-on experience.
BrightEyes got to experiment, operate, bash, build, program, repair, and
tinker with everything imaginable. Wow, it was amazing how much stuff could be found in the deserts of Tatooine !
Many of these items would include ... weapons, ammo, armor,
clothing, datapads, comlinks, various tools, a few credits, even a few pieces of jewelry ! These items would usually be found among the remains of some unfortunate soul.
Also, there was usually some form of transportation near the body,
such as ... a landspeeder, a speeder bike, a racing pod, a sand skiff, a
sail barge, and sometimes even a transport freighter, a starfighter, or
an escape pod.
However, most of these vessels were usually damaged or destroyed ... but there was usually something among the wreckage that the clan could salvage, and sometimes even repair.
Such items included ... power generators, power cells, power
couplings, deflector shield generators, deflector shield projectors,
repulsorlift generators, repulsorlift projectors, tractor-beam generators,
tractor-beam projectors, ship armor plating, gravity deck plating, coolant
tanks, fuel tanks, oxygen tanks, water storage tanks, miles and miles of
wiring, external ship sensors, internal ship sensors, life support
systems, sub-space communication equipment, hyperspace communication equipment, holo-projectors, hyperdrive engines, hyperdrive generators, warp vortex stabilizers, hyperspace integrators, sub-space engines, thruster engines, various ship weapons , intergalactic s.o.s. transponders, flight data recorders, ship logs, ship I.D. telesponders, even a few "false" ship I.D. telesponders ... and the list just goes on and on.
The clan would quickly sell many of the damaged components (before
they utterly failed). But as for the most reliable hardware, the clan
would add these surplus items to their massive stockpiles of "prime
merchandise"... which they kept hidden in underground warehouses (beneath their desert fortress).
The traveling band of Jawas (aboard the Sandcrawler) would usually
return to their village every month. BrightEyes wasn't exactly fond of
that at first, but once he realized that he only had to "observe" the
Bantha Hair Trials, it actually became entertaining !
During their short stays, BrightEyes (and a few of his friends)
would also do some hunting. The surrounding area was home to alot of wild game, such as ... glim worms (hunted for their hides), wraids
(lizard-like creatures; hunted for their meat), worrts (frog-like creatures;
hunted for their meat), and profoggs (prairie dog-like creatures; hunted
for their meat and hide).
Upon their return, the females would cook their catch, and cure the
hides (to be used for crafting leather items). And at night, the men
and women would enjoy themselves around campfires, feasting on tender meats, and washing it down with their special clan brew called "Jawa Juice".
Oh Yeah, BrightEyes quickly began to enjoy their periodic visits.
In fact, he was beginning to have fond childhood memories. He could
recall exploring all those derelect ship hulls (which their village was
mainly constructed of). He remembered playing jokes on friends ... by
re-wiring blaster doors, messing with gravity-decking settings, and
goofing with environmental controls (just to name a few of his pranks). But his favorite past-time was playing in the cockpits of all those
different ships. He often wondered what it would be like traveling in space, and to other worlds. Hehe, those were good times.

...... to be continued (Lol) .... but for now..... THE END