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The Prequels are badly written and don't make any sense or stand up to any kind of examination, film at eleven.
Sorry, Ark, we're full up on Waterbenders.
In
Star Wars: Echo Squadron [The Great Galactic War in Rogue Squadron Dogfight Style]
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11 yrs ago
Forum: Advanced Interest Checks
I'm in, sheet in progress.
A slender, dagger-shaped craft emerged from hyperspace, flanked by a quartet of slender fighters with broad, angular wings, angling to approach the distant, massive form of Graveyard Station. A moment later the comm waves were filled with, "Graveyard Station to unidentified approaching vessels. State your intended course and identify yourselves."
"This is shuttle Mortrax on approach. Transmitting identification codes now."
"Shuttle Mortrax, you are cleared for docking bay seven."
All around similar events were taking place, Jedi in single-man fighters and representatives in diplomatic corvettes alike trickling to the station, one after another. The station itself was titanic, a titanic spar eight kilometers long holding hundreds of docking bays, with a massive, wheel-shaped habitat capping it. In sheer mass Graveyard Station was the size of a large battle fleet. Over a million beings called it home, and hundreds of thousands more passed through in the massive refugee fleets from the wartorn territories. It was a city, a hospital, a refuge, a sanctuary in space, nestled among the ruins of the world that had once been much the same.
A melancholy pervaded the place, and from the small cabin he had in the main structure of the station Jedi Master Aldoran Kell stood, he could feel it. A thousand years ago a world had been here, billions of lives snuffed out in an instant by the dark side. The wound in the Force from that tragedy had healed, but it was still a fragile spot in the Force, suffused with all the lost potential from the untimely deaths of billions.
It was a peculiar choice for a conclave of Jedi, but not one he had made without cause. The spectre of the Dark in this place would, he prayed, gather the minds of his fellows to a singular cause, and allow them to ignore their divisions until the greater threat was dealt with. At that thought he clutched the datapad in his pocket, the crucial shards of intelligence needed to sway the Jedi to action.
One by one, the Jedi continued trickling aboard. The Conclave had begun.
"This is shuttle Mortrax on approach. Transmitting identification codes now."
"Shuttle Mortrax, you are cleared for docking bay seven."
All around similar events were taking place, Jedi in single-man fighters and representatives in diplomatic corvettes alike trickling to the station, one after another. The station itself was titanic, a titanic spar eight kilometers long holding hundreds of docking bays, with a massive, wheel-shaped habitat capping it. In sheer mass Graveyard Station was the size of a large battle fleet. Over a million beings called it home, and hundreds of thousands more passed through in the massive refugee fleets from the wartorn territories. It was a city, a hospital, a refuge, a sanctuary in space, nestled among the ruins of the world that had once been much the same.
A melancholy pervaded the place, and from the small cabin he had in the main structure of the station Jedi Master Aldoran Kell stood, he could feel it. A thousand years ago a world had been here, billions of lives snuffed out in an instant by the dark side. The wound in the Force from that tragedy had healed, but it was still a fragile spot in the Force, suffused with all the lost potential from the untimely deaths of billions.
It was a peculiar choice for a conclave of Jedi, but not one he had made without cause. The spectre of the Dark in this place would, he prayed, gather the minds of his fellows to a singular cause, and allow them to ignore their divisions until the greater threat was dealt with. At that thought he clutched the datapad in his pocket, the crucial shards of intelligence needed to sway the Jedi to action.
One by one, the Jedi continued trickling aboard. The Conclave had begun.
You're both good.
Okay, we have a glut of waterbenders. You're free to make more if you like, but I'm only accepting three of each element and a maximum of ten people.
Think Deus Ex Human Revolution with a dash of Shadowrun.
Name: Kyla MacAlastair
Age: 17
Godly Parent: Ares
Years at Camp: 6
Ability: Kyla is superhumanly strong, capable of tearing down doors, smashing through walls, and lifting extreme weights.
Skills: Kyla is a superhuman swordswoman, extremely adept at pankration (Greek Wrestling, but far closer to modern MMA) and quite capable at the forge, although no match for even a novice child of Hephaestus. She runs a mean game of D&D, too.
Weapon of Choice: Kyla's self-forged claymore.
Appearance:
Kyla is tall and heavily muscled, she's built like a tank, although her muscles are natural rather than steroid induced, she maintains a feminine appearance. She has a rather ample figure when she has her armor off, sharpened by the contours of hard muscle and sinew. Her hair is black, eyes gray, and she has an extremely fair complexion, dotted with freckles along her nose. She wears her hair long and free, and in battle it protrudes underneath her war helm. In combat she eschews the common ancient greek-styled armor in favor of something slightly more modern, fourteenth century heavy plate with a barbute styled after Corinthian armor. The armor has a red-gold enameling across it, although it is scratched through to show steel at a number of points.
Personality: At first impression you wouldn't take Kyla for a child of Ares. She's kind, even amicable. Kyla's almost always got a smile, she's always ready to help out those in need, she's honorable in battle, gracious in victory and humble in defeat. The biggest signs of her lineage are her skill in battle and rather imposing size. In a lot of ways she behaves as though she's a medieval Knight, or one out of a fantasy story. This is less her natural behavior and more of a persona she has constructed to contain her Father's influence, pushing herself into the role of a Knight so she does not become a brute.
Brief History: Kyla's story is pretty simple: people notice when the eleven year old punches an adult hard enough to shatter three ribs and send him skidding across the school hallway. It wasn't too long after that before some representatives from the Camp turned up and cleared up the situation. Shortly thereafter Kyla and her family relocated from Glasgow to New York to allow Kyla to stay at the Camp and be close to her family.
For her first year or so at the camp Kyla was...to be diplomatic, an asshole. The discovery of her strength and her Father's influence on her turned her into a bullying terror. Some counseling ensued, and Kyla realized that the person she was becoming was not someone she really wanted to be. A childhood built on stories of heroes and monsters and a chance encounter with a rather nerdy camper and his D&D books was the nudge she needed. She discovered the idea of the Paladin, a warrior who uses her strength to protect people and make the world better, and embraced the archetype, devising a code to restrain her urges for violence and control. The years since have seen her rebuild herself from a hellraising bully into a knight - a little old fashioned, but just what she needed.
Age: 17
Godly Parent: Ares
Years at Camp: 6
Ability: Kyla is superhumanly strong, capable of tearing down doors, smashing through walls, and lifting extreme weights.
Skills: Kyla is a superhuman swordswoman, extremely adept at pankration (Greek Wrestling, but far closer to modern MMA) and quite capable at the forge, although no match for even a novice child of Hephaestus. She runs a mean game of D&D, too.
Weapon of Choice: Kyla's self-forged claymore.
Appearance:
Personality: At first impression you wouldn't take Kyla for a child of Ares. She's kind, even amicable. Kyla's almost always got a smile, she's always ready to help out those in need, she's honorable in battle, gracious in victory and humble in defeat. The biggest signs of her lineage are her skill in battle and rather imposing size. In a lot of ways she behaves as though she's a medieval Knight, or one out of a fantasy story. This is less her natural behavior and more of a persona she has constructed to contain her Father's influence, pushing herself into the role of a Knight so she does not become a brute.
Brief History: Kyla's story is pretty simple: people notice when the eleven year old punches an adult hard enough to shatter three ribs and send him skidding across the school hallway. It wasn't too long after that before some representatives from the Camp turned up and cleared up the situation. Shortly thereafter Kyla and her family relocated from Glasgow to New York to allow Kyla to stay at the Camp and be close to her family.
For her first year or so at the camp Kyla was...to be diplomatic, an asshole. The discovery of her strength and her Father's influence on her turned her into a bullying terror. Some counseling ensued, and Kyla realized that the person she was becoming was not someone she really wanted to be. A childhood built on stories of heroes and monsters and a chance encounter with a rather nerdy camper and his D&D books was the nudge she needed. She discovered the idea of the Paladin, a warrior who uses her strength to protect people and make the world better, and embraced the archetype, devising a code to restrain her urges for violence and control. The years since have seen her rebuild herself from a hellraising bully into a knight - a little old fashioned, but just what she needed.
Minor delay on getting this started, sorry about that. Should be up Wednesday, got called into work today.
I am accepting sheets still, I'm more interested in getting the best than the people who came first. The only person who's guaranteed locked is Mictlan as the Avatar.
Arkloh, I have to say a flat no to that character between the various inconsistencies with the universe, the bizarre physical and mental traits, and most significantly the impossible bending form.
Rinnee, The Northern Tribe still has more or less the same government as in Korra and ATLA, but the Southern Tribe has shifted to more of a representative Republic. They still have chiefs, but they're elected, more or less the President of the Southern Tribe. Future Industries -is- the media in The Republic and about half of the Earth Confederation, and they have most of the United Republic's government under their thumb, mostly because they more or less directly control the economy and military. The higher ups in the police are in bed with them too, but there are good cops in the rank and file.
Their primary weapon for maintaining their control is their inertia. They're less overt tyranny and more bread and circuses. People go to their job at a Future Industries subsidiary, buy dinner at FutureFoods, and then go home to watch FutureHolo Productions Present The Adventures of Nuktuk. People who cause FI trouble aren't openly disposed of, just quietly disappeared.
Arkloh, I have to say a flat no to that character between the various inconsistencies with the universe, the bizarre physical and mental traits, and most significantly the impossible bending form.
Rinnee, The Northern Tribe still has more or less the same government as in Korra and ATLA, but the Southern Tribe has shifted to more of a representative Republic. They still have chiefs, but they're elected, more or less the President of the Southern Tribe. Future Industries -is- the media in The Republic and about half of the Earth Confederation, and they have most of the United Republic's government under their thumb, mostly because they more or less directly control the economy and military. The higher ups in the police are in bed with them too, but there are good cops in the rank and file.
Their primary weapon for maintaining their control is their inertia. They're less overt tyranny and more bread and circuses. People go to their job at a Future Industries subsidiary, buy dinner at FutureFoods, and then go home to watch FutureHolo Productions Present The Adventures of Nuktuk. People who cause FI trouble aren't openly disposed of, just quietly disappeared.
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