Bounce

Star Wars - Jedi Exile.

Chapatrap said
So, Nautolans are amphibious, I get that. But are they fresh watered or salt watered?

It's not specified, but I'd assume most of the water on Glee Anselm (their homeworld) would be saltwater. Their name is derived from nautiloids, which can only survive in saltwater... but the Nautolans appear to be the most resilient of the amphibians we see in Star Wars given the degree to which they endure non-aquatic environments without assistance (more so if we factor in Kit Fisto's appearances from the Clone Wars movie and TV series).

So I'd assume they're at home in saltwater but able to tolerate freshwater in the same way that they tolerate being in no water at all.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile.

Youngling: The adventure continues!

In this harrowing episode, the intrepid adventuring adventurer had bravely dared the Ventilation Shafts of Mortes, the narrow bridges of Maintenance Walk, and recovered the Sacred Relic of Gortorgophlez from out of the Caverns of Portune. Note that the Sacred Relic of Gortorgophlez may have closely resembled a broken laser sight lens from off of a DC-15S and the Caverns of Portune may have more closely resembled the private quarters on board the clone commando drop ship.

Having transitioned from out of the lightsaber workout to exploring the ship again, the young Nautolan now found himself in the ship's galley. Small hands plied at the controls to the autochef as the youngling looked over a menu that, while small, still presented him with more freedom and choice than he had ever known in the Jedi Temple.

How did people decide what they wanted without being told?

There were, of course, perfectly nutritionally functional ration packs lying around... but the autochef represented a kind of rebellion from logic or functionality. He could order something that wasn't a ration pack. It was an invitation to be different for a youngling who had spent his entire childhood training to be just like all the Jedi kids around him. To meditate on command, on demand, and in harmony. To practice his Soresu on command, on demand, and in harmony. To use the Force on command, on demand, and in harmony.

Unity and harmony were really nice words. And they really, really sucked when one wasn't as good, or better, as everyone else. Zak always felt like he was behind all of the others in the meditation classes, or that he was having to wait for everyone to catch up to him in the Soresu lessons.

But to be able to order from an autochef? Not to have to wait for everyone to get their food, and make certain everything was fairly distributed or shared or no one ate before any other youngling... To be able to pick what he wanted to eat. And when he wanted to eat.

It was the most un-Jedi thing he'd come across since they'd left the Temple.

He had a meat-filled pastry stuck in his mouth, a handful of algae fritters in his hand, and was wiping a greasy palm on the front of his tunic as he emerged back into the communal hangar bay. The sight of the myriad of Jedi dressed as... well, regular people... took him for surprise in how very different the same people could look outside of their Jedi robes. Hoping back on top of a crate, the moss green youth started munching away at the meaty pastry. His short legs absently swung back and forth, as dark eyes surveyed the assembly that was preparing to depart.

Nar Shadda didn't sound like all that scary of a place to him. He'd just walked out of a whole planet of clones that had been shooting at him. If some sleemo blaster-brain thought he was going to come after the Jedi, Zak would be ready to take him down!

Well, not really.

Zak only knew Soresu. So he really couldn't take people down. But he could deflect blaster bolts until they were so tired of shooting at him that they'd fall over in exhaustion. Or something.

Okay, not that cool at all. Still, Nar Shadda didn't seem like all that scary of a place to him.

Independent Comics Universe RPG

Maybe this will help get me back in the swing of things.

Disclaimer: I spent several hours trying to talk myself out of this. This is probably going to get me banned from RPG. If it doesn't, it should. So I'm going on record now as saying I'm sorry to the many, many people I'm probably about to offend if this gets approved.

Independent Comics Universe RPG Character Sheet
Player Name: Bounce

Character: Huey Freeman (Aaron McGruder's The Boondocks)

Power and Abilities: As the founder of 23 radical leftist organizations, including the Black Revolutionary Organization or B.R.O., Africans Fighting Racism and Opression or A.F.R.O.,and the Black Radical Underground Heroes, or B.R.U.H., Huey Freeman is a ten-year old activist, revolutionary, and known domestic terrorist. He has no super powers. He has no alien technology. What he does have is an amazing gift for oration, a brilliant mind, keen wit, and skills in both Kendo and Jeet Kune Do that are above the norm for a ten year old inner city youth and have allowed Huey to spar with adults on equal footing in many cases.

Huey has demonstrated proclivities with both electrical engineering and chemistry. An avid reader, he has studied classical histories of many of the world's cultures and is known to speak Mandarin Chinese.

Alignment: Chaotic Good

Character Notes [Established Rogues, NPCs, etc]: Robert Jebediah "Grandad" Freeman, Riley Freeman (aka Escobar, aka Young Reezy, aka Louis Rich...), Tom DuBois, Sara DuBois, Jazmine DuBois, Hiro Otomo, Michael Caesar, Uncle Ruckus (no relation), Cindy McPhearson, Principal Williams, John Petto (all from the comic strip). If permitted, I may also borrow Bushido Brown, Ed Wuncler, and Colonel Stinkmeiner from the television series.

Background and Story So Far: I am not a prophet. I'm just a kid from the streets of Chicago. Or, I was a kid from the streets... until my grandad got custody of me and my brother, then brought us out to Woodcrest, Maryland. I don't know what he sees about this place or why he would want to retire here. It's like the junction of White America and Upper Middle Class. The kind of place where everybody wants to show off the money they want you to think they have, while mounting up debt and backstabbing each other with gossip.

In this kind of environment the life of a black, vigilante superhero is not for the faint of heart.

To start with, everything the government has told you has been a lie. Reaganomics, affirmative action, 9/11... But this didn't start with America. People have been doing this since the beginning of civilization. It all boils down to the need to control society. The Crusades were nothing more than an avenue by which nobles, placed in fear by the number of former soldiers crowding their cities, could conveniently get rid of a perceived threat to security while potentially increasing their territory. Need more convincing? If the goal was to re-take the Holy Land, then why did the Crusaders sack Constantinople -- a Christian city? Everything you think you know is smoke and illusion, the convenient application of iconic imagery and censorship to achieve systematic control of thought and belief.

Let that sink in.

You know what? The truth hurts. Not the pretty truth. The truth that makes people angry. Angry enough to get up and do something about it. I'm not sure that kind of truth even exists anymore. And even if it does, can you imagine the response? The truth is that the world is a hard and lonely place, and no one gets anything for free. And you know what else? One day, you and everyone you care about is going to die. Go ahead. Take the blue pill. Go back to your Real Housewives of DC or getting force-fed whatever tripe they're serving up on The Doctors in the guise of news. The sanctuary of your ignorance, the bastion of societal apathy, the buttress of cultural myopia is the very foundation of the white elitist power structure that claims responsibility for all of Western civilization without having done a damn thing besides riding on the backs of working class people.

That is the foundation that I have come here to destroy.

Sample Post (At least 3 well thought out paragraphs as well as some dialogue):

I'm staring down the barrel of a .45.

Ask me anything about the gun. Every scratch, every nick in the brushed metal finish is burning itself into the back of my eyes. I want to take a step back, but he's shouting at me not to move. Move? I'm too afraid to breathe right now.

And why? Why am I afraid? I'm an unarmed, black, ten year old kid who has done nothing wrong. If we look at this situation objectively, there's no reason to be afraid. The gun is unnecessary in this situation. There's no reason for the cop to pull the trigger.

...who do I think I'm kidding?

The cop behind the gun is trembling. He's shaking so badly that I can't keep my eyes focused on the gun any longer. It's moving too much. He's a greasy faced, red headed, whitebread patrolman who probably spent his whole life in Woodcrest. He's totally going to pull the trigger. Why? Because I'm the first black youth he's seen that hasn't been on TV. Everything he thinks he knows about me he's gleaned from re-runs of Gangstalicious: Resurrection and YouTube videos of Kanye West's public spectacle at the MTV Music Video Awards. He's going to pull the trigger because the fear of not knowing what happens if he doesn't pull that trigger outweighs the fear of what happens if he does.

'Shooting while white' isn't a crime in or of itself. Getting shot while black? That's reasonable doubt. Why did the black kid get shot? Who needs facts to answer that question? Society has force fed people enough stories so the facts become less important. We can just fill those in. Gangs. Drugs. Gangs and drugs. Mix and match. You know you do it. You read the one paragraph news blurb in the paper about the black kid who got shot, then turn the page without batting an eye.

I'm about to become that black kid you read about. You'll spare a sentence about how the cop is on paid leave pending an investigation that will never be written about. No one will report on a story when everyone can conveniently contrive their own facts from skin color alone. You'll read my one paragraph story and then flip the page so you can check out when the premiere of Real Housewives of Topeka, Kansas airs.

So that leaves me just one choice. Do or do not. And the moment I realize what it is I'm about to do, is the moment when I realize: I'm in a nigga moment.

Man, how did it come to this?

Star Wars - Jedi Exile.

Got my internet fixed today, so I'll have a brat post up in a bit.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile.

I'm still here and want to keep going.

I can't post much at the moment though because a massive power surge killed my ADSL (phone, modem, much appliances in the house) and so I'm limited to using my cell to get online while the electricians un-screw what's left of the house wiring.

Musical inspiration

I have playlists for each character I write, which is usually defined by something about the character. A woodland elf is instrumental music with a focus on strings and flutes. A starfighter pilot is heavy rock/metal to give emphasis to the concept of an 8-second life expectancy in combat. If it's a very complex character, I may even have separate playlists for different types of posts or moods. In the case of a character from the 1960's, I even had a playlist of 50's and 60's music so that I had a reference for what that character would think of or listen to.

So I'd say I change what I listen to based on what it is that I am writing.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile.

On Zak, I shot a PM about a week ago to Hex asking if Master Sorni would be interested in being his master (Sorni knows Shii-cho <3 ) but have not heard from Hex on that.

If SJ winds up going to Nar Shadda, I can write him as an NPC like Caboose does Deja while Zak has adventures with the Sector Rangers or whatevs.

I'm cool with whatever.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile.

Jakeozzy said
Bounce... Was that a 'The Men Who Stare At Goats' reference on the end of your last post? ;3

maybe...

:)

Star Wars - Jedi Exile.

The young Nautolan got a welcome respite away from the Anzati when the youngling padawan had gone to see the protocol droid about a change of clothing. All the while discussing different options for what he could do for a padawan braid. It was obviously something Sor-Jan put a great deal of thought into, making it somewhat starkly contrasting for Zak to realize just how little thought he'd put into his own advancement. He'd been Jedi for as long as he could remember. Growing up in the temple. Learning their ways. Committing their traditions to memory. He knew that he would have to prove himself in the youngling trials sooner or later, but it had never been about that.

Zak didn't wear Jedi robes. He knew some aquatic Jedi did, such as Master Fisto, but the loose, flowing fabric garments weren't intended for wear underwater. Instead, he wore Mon Cal, Quarren, or Nautolan tunics which were made of a water-repellant leather and sleeveless, so to leave the arms free for swimming. This allowed him the freedom to move between land and water without need to change clothes. A broad belt cinched the simple garment at the waist, from which the training lightsaber hung. That is, until his hand moved up to touch it.

The cylinder was cool to the touch. The metal inviting, as the crystal inside seemed to bait his subconscious mind. He was like an addict cradling a favorite drug. The presence of the lightsaber was reassuring, and yet, simply touching it was not enough to satisfy the need that he felt. Before he'd even been aware of what he'd done, the training saber was unclipped and held in his hand.

It's weight felt good. Good in a way that was numbing to the concerns and anxieties that he had been feeling. As he twirled the metal cylinder in his hand, all doubt seemed to melt away.

He just wanted to serve. Youngling, padawan... The titles weren't important to him.

With a distinctive snap the lightsaber was brought to life. The vibrant blue blade reflected in the black eyes of the aquatic youth. The training device sang out in song as the youth idly spun the blade, letting one motion flow naturally into a second, as the speed and intensity of the sound building in the air gradually grew into a masterpiece crescendo.

Maybe that was why Sor-Jan's attitude bothered him. A title was something so trivial, but being a padawan obviously meant so much to Sor-Jan. It was an honor to be a padawan, but a padawan's place was still to learn and to serve. That wasn't much different from the Jedi initiate, except now Sor-Jan would have a personal tutor. So why didn't Zak feel the same?

Except all of the teachers were dead, weren't they? So, even as a youngling, Zak would still need to attention of a particular Jedi to learn. There wasn't a clan. There was only Zak now. So he supposed he was a padawan without the title, because there was no one else to teach him and no one else to be taught.

So if he was a padawan by default, did that make it mean any more? Did it mean any less?

Throwing the live blade behind his back, the young swordsman nimbly caught the blade in his other hand and transitioned seamlessly into a Soresu guard, blending the guard into an orbit, and then letting the motion -- letting the emotion -- flow through his body as he let go and allowed the Force to shape his movements.

No, it still didn't matter. He just wanted to learn and to serve. Particularly now. The galaxy needed Jedi now more than ever.

Star Wars - Jedi Exile.

Nar Shada is where most of the PCs will be going. The mostly NPC Sector Rangers and the 9 year old PC (Zak) will be going elsewhere.

So it's up to you, but you'd get more PC interaction in the Nar Shadda group.

Edit: And there's a Zak post. It's not exactly random though. I'll try to be more random next time.