Alright; now that we are set, would you all prefer to initiate this roleplay through the fire of combat, or during the transportation to the base of operations?
Azkott Member
The Mexican
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Stormtrooper classification: Imperial Stormtrooper.
Designation: KT-7716.
Military Ranking: Chief. (One of many commanding officers, a rank denoted by a crimson-red pauldron.)
Nickname: Kat. (Owed to her curious designation. She's typically shunned or disdained any other attempt at gaining a nickname, having been rather proud of her curious, numeric coding. However, she allows Kat for the tactical benefit of having such a call sign, as well as for the play on the number she holds so zealously.)
Race/species: Vahla.
Planetary Origin: Originally born on the planet of Mandalore.
Gender: Female.
Armor Appearance: Kat dons the standard armor of an imperial stormtrooper, with a few notable exceptions. Firstly, and most notably, is the roughened gray poncho she consistently dons on and off the field of combat; the reasons for it are unknown, though most beneath her command will tell you it's for luck. Perched on her left shoulder is an outstretched, blood-red pauldron, denoting her hard-won experience and rank. Besides this is a chest-strapped bandoleer, likely owing to her affinity for heavy weapons; a serrated vibro-knife sitting sheathed just to the left of this series of ammo pouches. To the right of her utility belt hangs an abnormally large pouch, a red cross painted against the white background likely denoting it as a medical kit. Farther below is a magnetized holster on her thigh, possessing her favored, last-ditch weapon; the DL-44. Overall, her armor seems just slightly thicker than the usual; this being likely due to her Vahla origin. Though giving her unparalleled flexibility, her cartilage-like bone structure means, without her armor, a fight wouldn't bode well in her favor. Also worth noting is the sheer amount of dents, scuff marks, and blaster burns her armor's accumulated over the years of service; some seem like they should've put her in a grave years ago. Instead of buffing them out, she's rumored to keep them, to denote her experience and loyalty.
Personality: Kat is impulsive, driven by a fierce, overzealous desire to serve the Empire in the best way she knows; combat. This brash, optimistic attitude has gotten in the way of her health a lot, and was probably the leading cause of her ultimately receiving a cybernetic replacement for an irrationally lost arm. Don't take her for a fool, though; she's a wampa with both bark, and bite. Beneath her authorative, demanding demeanor is a calm, tactically-charged individual, constantly considering outcomes and options in the heat of her favored sport: war. As such, she's best described as impatient, dominative, loyal, thoughtful, and just an all-around, experienced warrior.
Appearance: This Vahla woman stands at a mere 6'4; short, by her humanesque people's standards. Besides this gnawing, personal set back, she might be considered rather beautiful, as far as a war-needy soldier can fit that description. Short, scruffy copper hair is held back beneath her helmet, a rather fitting combination for her strikingly violet eyes. Her pale skin tells a tale of a woman who hasn't seen the sun in far too long, and her sharp, angular features speak volumes as to how badly she's fed herself; too much time on the field, and not enough time at rest. Of course, all of this is irrelevant beneath her specialized suit of armor, becoming nothing more than a proud, dutiful soldier with it on.
History: Though born on the warrior-bearing planet of Mandalore, Kat spend most of her early childhood aboard old, creaking space freighters, jumping from planet to planet. Such was the custom of her people, the Vahla; ever searching for their long-lost home, destroyed by the Jedi whom once claimed to protect the Galaxy. Raised in a culture famed for despising this ancient, force-wielding order, it was of no surprise that she too took to despising them. Her parents raised her on tales of a Republic hell bent on casting them out, telling her of the great scourges that saw many of her people killed; this would impact her deeply, and influence the woman she grew up to become.
Despite the desires of her junk-collecting parents to join them in their trade, she found her calling late one evening on the sand-swept planet of Tatooine. Walking back to their old, oxidized freighter after peddling junk back and forth through the markets, she was assailed by two, jedi-obsessed individuals, the like of which knew well of the stories many rebel sympathizers told of the “Vahla scum”, intending to channel their unused hatred on a poor, defenseless girl. They struck her knees out from under her, sending her reeling with a single, heavy-handed punch; she recalls having been slammed into a wall, before a muffled, gruff tone yelled “Rebel scum!”
Then, it was over. When she opened her eyes, she was being whisked away in the arms of a dirtied, wearied stormtrooper, the like of which delivered her to her very doorstep with nothing but a thoughtful nod. It was then and there that, despite her parents’ objections, she joined up with the Corps.
Years of training, followed by many more years of combat, would make her a solid, well-rounded soldier, the like of which would see conflict on a massive variety of systems, before finally being told to head out to the outer rim, and take up a risky guard’s duty. A welcomed break, even for someone as willing as her.
Notes: She has a secret, unhealthy obsession for "Tales of a Mandalorian Bounty Hunter," a rare comic book published when she was young.
Her cybernetic replacement will sometimes tamper with her mind, inciting headaches or migraines, usually in the worst of times.
@Bishop - Whatever you prefer, as long as its within reason and logic. Thanks for taking my opinion into consideration.
@Bishop - My best guest is Cortosis. After some brief research, I learned it was Lightsaber resistant.
@Gat Izen - You've done your research, it seems. Great. Sounds good to me; as such, accepted.
Name: Sir Merek of Astora.
Age: 36, as far as he can recall.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: A tall, gaunt individual, the like of which is befitting of a wearied, soul-shriven undead. Maybe once, in life, he was of a handsome stock; now, he is but a shadow of his former self, a saddening fact best expressed through his ragged, blonde-gray hair, and pale, roughened face. A scratchy beard compliments his lackluster appearance, alongside his sunken gray eyes. Despite his condition, he fits well into his suit of armor, hinting at a man who’s done nothing but fight since having reluctantly arrived in this strange, decrepit land.
Armour/Clothes: The Heide Knight Set.
Personality: As many undead before him, Merek was once a hopeful optimist, a beacon of hope and joy to all he met in his extensive, tireless travels. Now, for whatever reason, he is all but at a loss. Doomed to live a miserable, eternal existence, forever incapable of death, it isn’t hard to tell that this once heroic knight is nearing the end. Hollowing. Despite his constant lamenting and dejected state of being, he still lends a helping hand to those who most require it; maybe because, somewhere, deep down, that was who he truly was. His iridescent, dimly-glowing summoning stone is typically found throughout the dark, depressive lands, willing to help those in their darkest hour; helping as no one ever helped him.
Skills: A swordsman of great repute, the name Merek had at once been feared by the foes of Astora, long before the fires had grown cold. He still wields the massive, engraved blade of Astora, albeit with less vigor and passion than once upon a time. Besides his skill at arms, this warrior once briefly delved into the Way of White’s secrets, learning Miracles from a blind, affectionate maiden of Carim he once protected. He wonders what happened to her, after all this time…
Weaknesses and Fears: He has an acute distrust, possibly even fear, of the deep. Sorceries that stem of this dark branch of magic tend to make him anxious, even defensive; the worst part about this is that, for whatever, reason, he can’t remember why it gives him the chills. It seems so innate, as if he had it when he first awoke. Besides this, he secretly fears eternal life, constantly and brashly risking himself in battle in the hopes of finding death. He knows what it is to hollow, and he wishes to die with whatever shred of honor and dignity he still possesses.
Spells: Thanks to his brief experience with Miracles, Merek possesses the ability to cast Heal, a rudimentary Lightning Spear, and the Seek Guidance spell; a cruel, cruel irony to him.
Weapons: The Astora Greatsword.
Bio: Time is convoluted, in this dark realm. This has, among other things, driven the once valiant knight Merek to the brink of insanity. He knows next to nothing of the life he left behind, save for a singular, blotchy letter he found upon waking up, coated in a neglected, thin layer of ash. It was addressed to him from… his wife. She spoke of home, a warm hearth, playful children. For what must’ve been years, Merek kept this letter close to him, his optimism and good nature likely due in part to it; like many others before him, he sought a path back to the way things were.
And, like many others before him, he failed. Now, doomed to roam the land for eternity, a taunting letter he can’t bring himself to throw away in hand, Merek slowly begins to grow hollow, silently crying for help, whispers lost in a silent wind, dead as he.
Other: Merek constantly seeks a way out of his eternal suffering. As such, he tends to risk himself in combat to a dangerous extent; whilst never necessarily a bad thing, the tendency to get himself surrounded is a bad one, to say the least.
Much like a bonfire, this old knight of Astora’s optimism and joy lies hidden within, somewhere; all it needs is to be reignited.
@Assallya - All around, rather well-done application. Congrats on actually finding a good female stormtrooper pic, too! Feel free to add your CS to the growing list.
@Gat Izen - I would recommend just changing it, due to Imperial standards. Remember that you can modify alot of the more modernized armor. While i'd usually allow it, according to the canon, they phased it out after order 66.
@Gat Izen - I would recommend just changing it, due to Imperial standards. Remember that you can modify alot of the more modernized armor. While i'd usually allow it, according to the canon, they phased it out after order 66.
@watchet - Excellent application. Please feel free to add.
Name: Sir Merek of Astora.
Age: 36, as far as he can recall.
Gender: Male.
Appearance: A tall, gaunt individual, the like of which is befitting of a wearied, soul-shriven undead. Maybe once, in life, he was of a handsome stock; now, he is but a shadow of his former self, a saddening fact best expressed through his ragged, blonde-gray hair, and pale, roughened face. A scratchy beard compliments his lackluster appearance, alongside his sunken gray eyes. Despite his condition, he fits well into his suit of armor, hinting at a man who’s done nothing but fight since having reluctantly arrived in this strange, decrepit land.
Armour/Clothes: The Heide Knight Set.
Personality: As many undead before him, Merek was once a hopeful optimist, a beacon of hope and joy to all he met in his extensive, tireless travels. Now, for whatever reason, he is all but at a loss. Doomed to live a miserable, eternal existence, forever incapable of death, it isn’t hard to tell that this once heroic knight is nearing the end. Hollowing. Despite his constant lamenting and dejected state of being, he still lends a helping hand to those who most require it; maybe because, somewhere, deep down, that was who he truly was. His iridescent, dimly-glowing summoning stone is typically found throughout the dark, depressive lands, willing to help those in their darkest hour; helping as no one ever helped him.
Skills: A swordsman of great repute, the name Merek had at once been feared by the foes of Astora, long before the fires had grown cold. He still wields the massive, engraved blade of Astora, albeit with less vigor and passion than once upon a time. Besides his skill at arms, this warrior once briefly delved into the Way of White’s secrets, learning Miracles from a blind, affectionate maiden of Carim he once protected. He wonders what happened to her, after all this time…
Weaknesses and Fears: He has an acute distrust, possibly even fear, of the deep. Sorceries that stem of this dark branch of magic tend to make him anxious, even defensive; the worst part about this is that, for whatever, reason, he can’t remember why it gives him the chills. It seems so innate, as if he had it when he first awoke. Besides this, he secretly fears eternal life, constantly and brashly risking himself in battle in the hopes of finding death. He knows what it is to hollow, and he wishes to die with whatever shred of honor and dignity he still possesses.
Spells: Thanks to his brief experience with Miracles, Merek possesses the ability to cast Heal, a rudimentary Lightning Spear, and the Seek Guidance spell; a cruel, cruel irony to him.
Weapons: The Astora Greatsword.
Bio: Time is convoluted, in this dark realm. This has, among other things, driven the once valiant knight Merek to the brink of insanity. He knows next to nothing of the life he left behind, save for a singular, blotchy letter he found upon waking up, coated in a neglected, thin layer of ash. It was addressed to him from… his wife. She spoke of home, a warm hearth, playful children. For what must’ve been years, Merek kept this letter close to him, his optimism and good nature likely due in part to it; like many others before him, he sought a path back to the way things were.
And, like many others before him, he failed. Now, doomed to roam the land for eternity, a taunting letter he can’t bring himself to throw away in hand, Merek slowly begins to grow hollow, silently crying for help, whispers lost in a silent wind, dead as he.
Other: Merek constantly seeks a way out of his eternal suffering. As such, he tends to risk himself in combat to a dangerous extent; whilst never necessarily a bad thing, the tendency to get himself surrounded is a bad one, to say the least.
Much like a bonfire, this old knight of Astora’s optimism and joy lies hidden within, somewhere; all it needs is to be reignited.
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