Sep said
Plus then, when you abandon ship all your stuff goes with you!
Well, now we know which room Vor'loch will be taking.
Captain Jordan Member
My other rocket is a car
STATUS: My life has been reduced to 200 measley characters, and I can't even seem to make use of every one. 11 yrs ago
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Well, now we know which room Vor'loch will be taking.
Bounce said
Yes, but if we plan on using the ship to haul more than ourselves then we'll need the cargo space.
Then use the escape pods, I'll bet if you folded the seats down there'd be space for 2 at least, 3 if someone slept on the floor. They could even hang curtains, make it feel all home-y.
Sep said
Well I meant for it to be decided but that works too :P I will throw a post up later.
It can be decided IC, but it helps if we decide first OOCly. I've seen RPs go around and around for weeks in a character discussion about where to go, which could have been easily resolved with a bit of OOC chat. I think it's easier if we avoid that, and get straight to the plot we want to write.
Bounce said
I like the YV-666, but for the sake of tossing options out there there's also the Ghtroc 720 light freighter, which apparently has bunking for 15 (but they're stacked 5 to a room, 3 rooms, and one shared refresher). So much for privacy.
Come on, think outside the box. You can turn about anything into a sleeping quarters.
One of the cargo bays could be proportioned into rooms with dividers, or just become a dormitory-style bunkroom.
And I can totally see one of our Jedi Masters or Knights grabbing an escape pod for quarters (a la Inara from Firefly).
Sep said
In terms of Padawanship that is more up to Hex as it is an IC decision and Jacen has no real control while Vor'loch I suppose would have input, most of those are.Also the ship mission is Cabooses so... speak to him :P
Aren't you the GM?
Great, now I'm double posting.
Has anyone considered the YV-666 for a lighter, faster ship? Not too flashy, enough room to fit most of us comfortably (especially if the younglings can share a bunk), and should be available in this era. All you have to do is find one with a weak-minded owner, or someone who won't mind us jacking it from their private fleet.
Has anyone considered the YV-666 for a lighter, faster ship? Not too flashy, enough room to fit most of us comfortably (especially if the younglings can share a bunk), and should be available in this era. All you have to do is find one with a weak-minded owner, or someone who won't mind us jacking it from their private fleet.
The GMs will have to weigh in on this, but considering Bounce's proposal, I would like to see either Option 1 or 3. Although Option 2 would work if one of the padawan players decides their character is ready for knighthood (mine isn't, so I can't offer Jerek as a knight). It'd be nice to see Keilara as a Knight (considering she's our only remaining Consular), if Jaeda Fel is still around, though going by age Erin Corona is a better match.
Hexaflexagon said
And my two posts for the price of one post is finished! Field trip to the Smuggler's Moon! To help get Cabooses plans done easier becasue trying to do that all in a rough imperail troop transport might end up drawing a few eyes. lol
So we have to find something fast but inconspicuous, small but able to hold up to 12 individuals, and possible for amateur thieves such as Jedi to steal. Sounds simple!
What we really need to find is a patron of the Jedi arts —aka a sugar daddy— to fund us. Some nice wheels, a few credits to grease any palms we might need to, and a swanky hideout from which to launch our super-secret missions. You know, the basics.
"He's healing," Jerek remarked, his hazel eyes downcast as he spoke the words. The youth's hand fell from hers as he picked at the strings on his boots, the corners of his mouth turned sour as he added, "slowly."
As if to back him up, the padawans could hear the Sector Ranger, the one called Jacen, explain why Vor'loch couldn't be moved. The man didn't seem comfortable in saying so, but the end result he hinted at for moving the Noghri too soon was death, a term that seemed to have far less weight after the tragedy the Jedi had collectively experienced. Jerek had seen enough death in his young life, too much of it in the events of three days prior.
The fact that Vor'loch was still alive was the source of the only hope the padawan still felt. As they had escaped, flying away from his childhood home, the enclave that had become a tomb to his dearest friends and teachers, Jerek missed the chance to see the temple for the last time. It had burned, he was told, blackened and scarred from the weapons of the invading troopers. No, as the gunship receded from their lost home, Jerek's focus had been consumed by the well-being of his master, Vor'loch, over the wounds the Noghri had sustained. The boy was grateful for the Sector Ranger's refusal to move his master, averting the padawan more uncertainty.
Whether the thought of his Noghri master prompted him, or the familiar touch of his master's mind in his, Jerek didn't know. All at once, he found himself standing, and he glanced down at Erin. Suddenly cheery, the blond youth chirped, "Want to come see him?"
As if to back him up, the padawans could hear the Sector Ranger, the one called Jacen, explain why Vor'loch couldn't be moved. The man didn't seem comfortable in saying so, but the end result he hinted at for moving the Noghri too soon was death, a term that seemed to have far less weight after the tragedy the Jedi had collectively experienced. Jerek had seen enough death in his young life, too much of it in the events of three days prior.
The fact that Vor'loch was still alive was the source of the only hope the padawan still felt. As they had escaped, flying away from his childhood home, the enclave that had become a tomb to his dearest friends and teachers, Jerek missed the chance to see the temple for the last time. It had burned, he was told, blackened and scarred from the weapons of the invading troopers. No, as the gunship receded from their lost home, Jerek's focus had been consumed by the well-being of his master, Vor'loch, over the wounds the Noghri had sustained. The boy was grateful for the Sector Ranger's refusal to move his master, averting the padawan more uncertainty.
Whether the thought of his Noghri master prompted him, or the familiar touch of his master's mind in his, Jerek didn't know. All at once, he found himself standing, and he glanced down at Erin. Suddenly cheery, the blond youth chirped, "Want to come see him?"
"Jerek, come here. I want to show you something."
The voice, much like his own, drifted through the trees growing in the artificial sanctuary, a green respite planted in the heart of the Jedi Temple, interrupting the thoughts of the young boy sitting beneath them. Scrambling to his feet, Jerek kicked off the shaded knoll where he had laid and went in search of the voice. The grove of trees was one of many within the Temple's lake level, ringing the outer perimeter of the five story conservatory. Its centerpiece was the multi-level lake from which it derived its name, the water nearly as green as the grass surrounding it, with its massive waterfall and calm beaches that made the lake the perfect spot to steal a relaxing moment. One could always find something new and interesting here. The problem was, the new and interesting always seemed to interrupt Jerek's thoughts.
His curiosity grew as the boy loped through the trees, breaking out into the grassy field before the lake. He searched in earnest for the speaker, circling the area where the voice had come from. The sandy-haired boy called out as he went, passing familiar landmarks, like the stone carved with the initials of generations of younglings, or the nest of particularly defensive Alderaanian swans that had somehow found their way into the temple in the distant past. Just when he was about to reach the lake, Jerek heard a small rustle, the overgrown shrubs moving as if they had a mind of their own. The boy reacted all too late, turning just in time to see a blurry shape form out of the shrubs and collide into him, knocking him to the ground.
Jerek's twin brother, a few minutes older and still a few pounds heavier, giggled in ecstasy as the boys wrestled on the ground. It wasn't very amusing to be tackled, but Jerek was too busy trying to trun the grapple in his favor to be annoyed. Bushes grabbed at his arms and legs, scraping skin and staining his youngling tunic and leggings with their sap. Sticky and sweating, Jerek finally managed to gain the upper ground and grinned as he squatted on top of the squishy form beneath him, only to feel his arm dampened a moment later by a very wet attacker. The thinner boy wrested his arm from the piercing clamp of his brother's mouth, and inspected it, relieved by the lack of any permanent marks from the bite. His distraction provided enough time for his opponent to gain the ground he had lost, and Jerek found himself on his back once more, his twin's arm at his throat and a satisfied grin on the older boy's face.
"Gerrof me, Elias!" Jerek cried, squirming under his brother's restraint, kicking futilely with his legs.
"Gerrof me, Elias!"
The words were muffled by the weight of his brother's body on top of his face. It felt lighter than usual, though no less suffocating. Jerek squirmed, kicking and clawing at his brother. To his surprise, the pressure vanished as something sailed through the air, hitting the wall with a slight 'poof' and sliding to the floor. The youth sat up from his makeshift bed blinking, staring at the pillow that lay on the floor of the sleeping area. He crawled forward, retrieving the pillow from where it landed, and took it into a tight embrace.
It was just a dream, he told himself, but the blond-haired boy just hugged the pillow tighter. No mere dream, in fact, but a memory. That was all he had left of his brother now, just the memory of Elias to keep him safe, just the memory of Elias to share his thoughts and fears with, just the memory of Elias to be friends with. The bundle of cloth and stuffing in his arms was an ill substitute for the real thing, yet for once, Jerek reveled in the tangible nature of the pillow. It was hard thing to hug a memory.
Jerek glanced about the empty room, his neighbors already awakened and occupied with the day's activities. It was better to be alone, the boy decided. Were he back at the temple, no one would have excused a padawan learner in his second year of apprenticeship to lay around in bed all day. Vor'loch, especially, would not be pleased, but the Noghri Jedi was stuck in a bacta tank until he healed. Jerek had spent the first night there, beside his master in the tank, the blue glow of the bacta made it easy to stay awake in case something went wrong. The next morning, once Vor'loch had awakened and been pronounced stable by the medical droid, the Noghri had shooed Jerek away to rest.
The padawan didn't want to spend all of his time resting, or meditating, like the other Jedi were. He wanted to do something. His frustration betrayed him, escaping his mouth in an angry yell as he pushed the pillow back to the floor. The boy stood, shaking the blond mop on his head in the physical act of clearing his mind. Grabbing his tunic, still marred with holes from the attack on the temple, Jerek pulled it over his head and winced at the still-tender bruises, all that remained of his injuries from that fateful day.
With only a few surviving members of the attack, the starship was mostly hollow as the sandy-haired youth stalked the halls. The massive spaces looked big enough to house a full company of Clone troops, and the markings on the walls and floor betrayed that as their very intention. Jerek scuffed at the floor with his boots, creating an echo that reverberated throughout the cavernous hanger bay. Thoroughly spooked, Jerek moved on in his search to find the other Jedi.
He found them in original hold, still dominated by the blaster-damaged LAAT that had provided escape from the temple. The Jedi knights and masters were seated around one of the strangers flying the ship, discussing something. Something important, it seemed. He found a familiar face sitting near the outskirts of the circle, a padawan who had helped him defend Vor'loch in the temple's hanger bay.
"I hardly recognized you without your lightsabers," the boy joked by way of greeting as he sat down next to the brown-haired padawan, eying the expert stitching of her grey robes compared to his pockmarked tunic. "I'm not sure we ever formally met, especially after all the...you know. I'm Jerek Zenduu."
The voice, much like his own, drifted through the trees growing in the artificial sanctuary, a green respite planted in the heart of the Jedi Temple, interrupting the thoughts of the young boy sitting beneath them. Scrambling to his feet, Jerek kicked off the shaded knoll where he had laid and went in search of the voice. The grove of trees was one of many within the Temple's lake level, ringing the outer perimeter of the five story conservatory. Its centerpiece was the multi-level lake from which it derived its name, the water nearly as green as the grass surrounding it, with its massive waterfall and calm beaches that made the lake the perfect spot to steal a relaxing moment. One could always find something new and interesting here. The problem was, the new and interesting always seemed to interrupt Jerek's thoughts.
His curiosity grew as the boy loped through the trees, breaking out into the grassy field before the lake. He searched in earnest for the speaker, circling the area where the voice had come from. The sandy-haired boy called out as he went, passing familiar landmarks, like the stone carved with the initials of generations of younglings, or the nest of particularly defensive Alderaanian swans that had somehow found their way into the temple in the distant past. Just when he was about to reach the lake, Jerek heard a small rustle, the overgrown shrubs moving as if they had a mind of their own. The boy reacted all too late, turning just in time to see a blurry shape form out of the shrubs and collide into him, knocking him to the ground.
Jerek's twin brother, a few minutes older and still a few pounds heavier, giggled in ecstasy as the boys wrestled on the ground. It wasn't very amusing to be tackled, but Jerek was too busy trying to trun the grapple in his favor to be annoyed. Bushes grabbed at his arms and legs, scraping skin and staining his youngling tunic and leggings with their sap. Sticky and sweating, Jerek finally managed to gain the upper ground and grinned as he squatted on top of the squishy form beneath him, only to feel his arm dampened a moment later by a very wet attacker. The thinner boy wrested his arm from the piercing clamp of his brother's mouth, and inspected it, relieved by the lack of any permanent marks from the bite. His distraction provided enough time for his opponent to gain the ground he had lost, and Jerek found himself on his back once more, his twin's arm at his throat and a satisfied grin on the older boy's face.
"Gerrof me, Elias!" Jerek cried, squirming under his brother's restraint, kicking futilely with his legs.
"Gerrof me, Elias!"
The words were muffled by the weight of his brother's body on top of his face. It felt lighter than usual, though no less suffocating. Jerek squirmed, kicking and clawing at his brother. To his surprise, the pressure vanished as something sailed through the air, hitting the wall with a slight 'poof' and sliding to the floor. The youth sat up from his makeshift bed blinking, staring at the pillow that lay on the floor of the sleeping area. He crawled forward, retrieving the pillow from where it landed, and took it into a tight embrace.
It was just a dream, he told himself, but the blond-haired boy just hugged the pillow tighter. No mere dream, in fact, but a memory. That was all he had left of his brother now, just the memory of Elias to keep him safe, just the memory of Elias to share his thoughts and fears with, just the memory of Elias to be friends with. The bundle of cloth and stuffing in his arms was an ill substitute for the real thing, yet for once, Jerek reveled in the tangible nature of the pillow. It was hard thing to hug a memory.
Jerek glanced about the empty room, his neighbors already awakened and occupied with the day's activities. It was better to be alone, the boy decided. Were he back at the temple, no one would have excused a padawan learner in his second year of apprenticeship to lay around in bed all day. Vor'loch, especially, would not be pleased, but the Noghri Jedi was stuck in a bacta tank until he healed. Jerek had spent the first night there, beside his master in the tank, the blue glow of the bacta made it easy to stay awake in case something went wrong. The next morning, once Vor'loch had awakened and been pronounced stable by the medical droid, the Noghri had shooed Jerek away to rest.
The padawan didn't want to spend all of his time resting, or meditating, like the other Jedi were. He wanted to do something. His frustration betrayed him, escaping his mouth in an angry yell as he pushed the pillow back to the floor. The boy stood, shaking the blond mop on his head in the physical act of clearing his mind. Grabbing his tunic, still marred with holes from the attack on the temple, Jerek pulled it over his head and winced at the still-tender bruises, all that remained of his injuries from that fateful day.
With only a few surviving members of the attack, the starship was mostly hollow as the sandy-haired youth stalked the halls. The massive spaces looked big enough to house a full company of Clone troops, and the markings on the walls and floor betrayed that as their very intention. Jerek scuffed at the floor with his boots, creating an echo that reverberated throughout the cavernous hanger bay. Thoroughly spooked, Jerek moved on in his search to find the other Jedi.
He found them in original hold, still dominated by the blaster-damaged LAAT that had provided escape from the temple. The Jedi knights and masters were seated around one of the strangers flying the ship, discussing something. Something important, it seemed. He found a familiar face sitting near the outskirts of the circle, a padawan who had helped him defend Vor'loch in the temple's hanger bay.
"I hardly recognized you without your lightsabers," the boy joked by way of greeting as he sat down next to the brown-haired padawan, eying the expert stitching of her grey robes compared to his pockmarked tunic. "I'm not sure we ever formally met, especially after all the...you know. I'm Jerek Zenduu."
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