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    1. Frater Jeremiah 7 yrs ago

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Governor Marcus Engan
Annona Colony

So at last the whole affair would come to a close, months of planning and preparation for the arrival of the Venue and its royal cargo coming to a head. Military Governor Marcus Engan could not have prayed harder for it to be so, after so much time and many headaches thrown in among the rest that was Venus. The colonies were still gripped in the shock of so sudden a transition of administration, and the newly appointed Governor had spent many sleepless nights contemplating the mess which his predecessor had so graciously left. But in the end, it seemed such a show of grandeur, strength, and pageantry would do the people well in so grim a time. Even Engan had to admire the way in which his adjutants and staff had prepared the parade and celebration, aside from the floral arrangements they had chosen which were playing hell with his allergies. Pennants flying the heraldry of the Empire, the Emperor's house, of Venus and Luna, all arranged in ever so subtle patterns to show an interconnection and unity between all. Screens displaying the arrival of the Venue and the reception were scattered across all the colonies of Venus, with non-stop coverage of the momentous occasion and the proceedings that would soon follow. Columns of soldiery marched in perfect time, well drilled and well dressed in their matching uniforms of martian make. They paraded through the streets, followed by deftly piloted Mobile Suits as they passed the gathering mass of citizens who had come to witness the arrival. Law enforcement kept order among the crowds, officers setting barricades and keeping watch alongside soldiery so that the swelling crowd did not spill into the street, and to dissuade any of the more violent element.

Of all this, thee jewel of the whole affair (aside from the arriving royalty) was to Engan's eyes the deployment and display of his newly organized Mobile Infantry. Inspired by the innovation of Mobile Suits, the Governor long believed that despite their utility, there were many operations in which such tools were unwieldy or ineffective. Raids and the close environments of urban combat, effective riot control, and the time-honored role of marines to board and secure enemy vessels from within. A Mobile Suit might have some use in the crippling of ships in void combat, but to actually go in and clear deck after deck of an enemy vessel was something best left to marines. As such, Engan had some time ago commissioned the development of powered armor for use in such harsh endeavors, inspired by the hardiness of Mobile Suits to create shock troopers able to withstand the fury of small arms and even light explosive weaponry. Now here they marched, after years of trial and error, clad in thick armored plates which whirred and hissed softly with every movement of soldier and mechanism. Heavy weapons were toted as though they were toys in the hands of children, and the Iconography of Mars and Venus were emblazoned proudly upon their armored chests for all citizens of the colonies to see. Beneath the hermetically sealed suits and grim-looking void-helms, there lied some of the finest men and women ever to take up arms in defense of their country, their kinsmen. Governor Engan felt no small surge of pride that many of his students could be counted among their number. These would be the soldiers upon the front line against those who thought they could undermine the very principles of their great Empire, to poison his beloved home against their fellow men.

Marcus put such thoughts to the back of his mind for now, however, and instead turned his gaze upwards towards the ship slowly making its way into proper position. The local defense fleet had begun its escort around the Venue, and he could see his own vessel Mons drift above the colony, placed a respectful distance from the guests of honor. Once more he made quick inspection of his person, and was sufficiently pleased with the immaculate state of his uniform and his well shaven face. He took one sidelong glance over his shoulder back towards his gathered retinue of officers, officials, dignitaries, and other such functionaries. Likewise satisfactory, a well organized and efficient group with which he saw fit to surround himself and share in the honor and duties which his office required. Now they would wait a few more agonizing minutes, and all the while Governor Engan cursed whoever had chosen those damn flowers.





I'm thinking of doing a more bookish and administrative/research character for R&D, any chance of having a position of some authority?
This seems like fun, I'll get started on a character sheet later today!
In Dead 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay


In Dead 7 yrs ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Name - Chaf'eroso'neami, goes by the Core Name of Feroson

Species - Chiss

Sex - Male

Age - 34

Faction Cult of Okussus

Appearance - A large man, standing nearly two meters in height and with a strong build. Feroson is a Chiss, with silver skin, eyes of vibrant red-orange, and a dour countenance. The corsair keeps his head and face shaven, but bears various tattoos marking significant battles and victories during his career.


Apparel/Armor - The corsair's armor is a custom made suit built for void combat and boarding actions. It is comprised mainly of durasteel and ceramic plate and reinforced with a small bit of phrik. Several simple weapon systems have been built into its bracers, along with a small energy shield. A rebreather is built into the suit's helmet. Aside from his armor, the Chiss captain wears a simple yellow jumpsuit. When in full combat gear, Feroson wears a short cape of yellow cloth over his shoulder, out of respect to House Chaf.

Weapons - Feroson keeps a wide array of weapons upon his ship, as well as his person, possessing the tools necessary to dispatch of Jedi and soldier alike. Typically he carries a cut down solid shot scattergun, a blaster rifle, blaster pistol, vibroblade, and a wrist mounted flamethrower.

Equipment - Thermal detonators, sonic detonators, smoke bombs, communicator, grappling hook, flares, and emergency rations.

Skills -
-Fereson is a skilled combatant, trained in the use of firearms, melee weapons, and unarmed combat.
-A decade and a half of life as a sailor, officer, and privateer have given the Chiss captain a wealth of knowledge and experience in matters of naval warfare, particularly boarding actions.
-Born into one of the lesser ruling families, Feroson is well educated and despite his life as a corsair, has never stopped his scholarly pursuits. He is well versed in literature, history, as well as philosophy both secular and that concerning the force and to some degree the traditions of the Sith and Jedi.

Flaws -
-Like most of his people, Feroson sees himself as in many ways superior to other races and individuals who lie outside of the Ascendancy. Because of this, he is often slow to trust outsiders and new faces, requiring them to prove themselves beyond a doubt loyal and reputable in his eyes.
-The Chiss corsair is not quick to anger, but neither is he quick to forget a slight or offense to him, his people, and his house. Many a republic captain found his vessel hunted and crew slaughtered by Feroson for showing what the Chiss believed to be 'discourtesy' towards him and his fellows. In one instance even a Sith apprentice felt the cold fury of such a grudge, the haughty novice quite vocal on his opinions of the Chiss Ascendancy and their position as proper allies rather than subjects.

Personality - Officer, gentleman, merchant, and butcher. These are words to aptly describe Feroson, who time and gain has proved his ruthlessness in the theater of war. His is a stoic philosophy, always looking to make decisions and actions based not on the whims of his emotions, but upon his directing mind. To try and understand why it is these external influences cause him distress, joy, or anger in any capacity. That is not to say he denies his emotions, he merely does all he can to prevent them from getting the better of him. Throughout his career he has tried to maintain an air of civility, and show respect to those who were his enemies, even when slitting their throats and plundering their ships. After all, how can his people truly show their superiority by turning their noses to all others? True superiority comes from an understanding of the enemy and the other, and a mastery of oneself so that you are never quite so pitiable as they.

Backstory - Born within the territory of the Chiss Ascendancy on the planet of Sarvchi, Chaf'eroso'neami was born to the lesser ruling House of Chaf. Despite the rather low position his parents actually had within the family, he was still granted the same rigorous and expansive education all his siblings and many cousins were. History, art, politics, economics, philosophy, he learned them all and with great eagerness. Philosophy in particular was a great love of his, wanting to understand the nature of the universe and its many people in more than just a physical sense. Through all the years of schooling and grooming to be a representative of a ruling house, Feroson did his best to live up to the expectations of his family and peers. The young Chiss carried himself with the nobility, dignity, and grace that were so inherent to his people.

When he came of age, Feroson chose to set sail within a merchant fleet, eager to interact with the many peoples within known space. It would be during this time that his first steps into the realm of naval war and piracy. The captain of his vessel had contracted with the Sith Empire and the Chiss Ascendency to act as a proper privateer, and as such he treated Feroson and all his other crew as though they were on a proper military vessel. He was a harsh, dour man, but respectable and a gentleman worthy of great respect and admiration in the young Chaf's eyes. Over time Feroson would prove himself both in and out of combat, seizing goods, brokering lucrative deals for his captain and House, and ultimately coming to command a vessel within the merchant fleet.

Emulating his mentor, and the many heroes he had idolized in his youth, Feroson strove for mastery over naval warfare and the art of business. He became famous within his House, a scourge of the Republic and Jedi, while maintaining the values and dignity of the Chiss people. So this went on for years, his renown growing within certain circles, along with both his wealth and his skill at murdering republic troops and Jedi. Still, despite the success Feroson had within his own little realm, the war was ultimately lost, and he was left without his largest and best paying employer. So in the aftermath of the war, privateering became full blown piracy. With the war done and over there were no contracts to take, but the ensuing chaos left him with many opportunities for plunder and smuggling. Sith Remnants, scattered Republic vessels and poorly defended supply lines, even the cartels of the Outer Rim felt the sting of his work.

This went on and on, until he was approached by an emissary of the Cult of Okussus. They promised opportunity, wealth, power, and plunder and all at the expense of the bloated Republic. These things he already had, as well as the beginnings of a fleet. What drew him, what really mattered, was the chance to fight for a cause once more, and bring honor to the House of Chaf once again. So he agreed, supplying his men, ships, contacts, as well as considerable wealth to the cause of the Cult of Okussus.
I'm definitely interested in this. I think I'll make a Chiss corsair working with the Cult of Okussus.
SOS


To anyone who might be out there, for the love of whatever god is listening I hope you get this and get it fast! We've been on the run this past month or so, fuck knows I didn't keep track. Soldiers, monsters, hell god-fucking-damned sorcerers showed up in the mix! It's been a shitshow from the start and we were caught with our pants down. Despite it all we managed to make our way south, us and some other folk we found along the way. Then met up with some... well tribals I'd guess you'd call them, said they were gods or some such bullshit. They were camped around some huge generator or something, I don't fucking know. Anyways, for a while it seemed like a safe place, they were strong, stronger than any of us that's for sure. But out of the blue a bunch of Road-Warrior rejects showed up and set the place ablaze. Some of us fought, most of us hid while the tribe went to meet them in force. It didn't take long for the bunch of savages to get ripped apart by the bastards.

We ran as quick as we could when the chief's head was cleaved off his shoulders and dashed on the rocks. I ain't fucking around man, these psychos got all sorts of weird grimy-lookin' tech on 'em. Big guns, mechanical arms, blades and spikes all over 'em. Hooping and hollerin' like a bunch of dumb animals as they wen't round rippin' out innards and quartering bodies. It was about a a day and two nights before they were done, and we heard their buggies and trucks roaring behind us. We scattered, different folks from different groups spreading out so some of us could try and make it out. Not many of us made it this far, found some big ass fort and locked it up tighter than a virgin in Gomorrah. Wasn't long before they found the place and now they're beating down all the fucking walls around us. Don't know who's out there, if anyone is, but help us out and we'll owe you, big. Sending coordinates out, and just gonna hope something worse than those bastards doesn't come a knockin'. Fuck it.



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