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23 years old. British/Scottish. Bachelor of Arts (Honours) in Fighty Studies. Studying MA in Second World War Studies. Wargamer. Submariner in another life.

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How long do you usually write?
Medium-to-long posts with plenty of opportunities for collaborative posts, particularly with regards to conversations, character development, plotting and planning, and furthering of the stories' arcs.

Do you enjoy writing collaborative posts for things like conversations, combat, etc.?
Very much so. Collaborative posts are my jam, as it were. In previous and current RPs, I generally tended to focus on collaborative posts, particularly as a result of one's own precarious health which can be upset relatively easily.

Is grammar and depth of writing important to you?
Grammar and depth of writing is important, absolutely. I can confidently assert my knowledge of the former. I have no idea if the latter even applies to me, though, to be honest. I don't know if my writing is deep or whether it's as shallow as a toddler's play pool.

Are there any writing subjects you particularly enjoy exploring?
Political and philosophical debates and discussions, particularly in the Sith Empire. The Empire to me is a fascinating state - it should not exist in the form it has, and yet it continues to stumble on, despite the all-too-obvious flaws in government that so often arise from a dogmatic and absolutist approach to the Sith Code as can be seen in many members (particularly amongst the upper echelons) of the Empire's aristocracy. I don't think Rashaaq would be a man who would prefer the Republic to the Empire, but he is convinced that the Empire, unless it is quick to rectify its many flaws in its system, will collapse, whether the Republic survives or not...

Also organised crime. Organised, state-sanctioned crime. There's no better place to source your power from than the black market. Illegal untraceable weapons, drugs, sapient trafficking, that manner of business.

Is there anything you really dislike and want to avoid like the plague?
I can't think of anything overtly "ew please no", but I'm sure there is something.

Is there something you are uncomfortable with happening to your character?
I mean, short of 'rocks fall, Rashaaq dies'-level of events, I can't think of much that I'd be uncomfortable. Obviously, nobody likes writing their character failing, but you can't be a Superman that succeeds at everything all the time. Even Superman fails every so often, after all.

Do you have any short-term or long-term goals with this character?
Like I'm sure many people have said, I want to first and foremost establish Rashaaq as a presence within the RP. Whether that's as a foil to Jedi or his fellow Sith, or as an ally to reformists within the Empire, or someone willing to turn a blind eye to crime to facilitate the Empire's needs and desires, Rashaaq will find a way. I'd like Rashaaq to take a role in trying to reform the Empire into a more centralised, stable state which isn't at risk of splintering into eleventy-billion factions at the drop of a hat, though is perhaps more totalitarian than the Empire is currently. Only by maintaining state cohesion through ruthless suppression of resistance and indoctrination of youth, combined with benefits to the citizenry to encourage support for the system, can proper discipline be nurtured and encouraged. The Empire needs loyal and reliable servants, not power plays threatening to destabilise the whole state!

| {Full Name} |

Darth Rashaaq Endymion Kirileth, Dark Lord of the Sith & Hammer of the Empire

| {Age} |

Biological Age - 57 years old
Chronological Age - 3,699 years

| {Species} |

Pureblood Sith (estimated 85% Sith heritage, 15% non-Sith, majority human)

| {Gender} |


| {Force Sensitive/Alignment} |

Force Sensitive: Yes

Force Alignment: Pretty solidly dark side, however Rashaaq uses the Dark Side of the Force as a weapon, not as a way of life. He tempers the dark side as one would temper a sword, forging and moulding it to his own desire. Though not always successful, Rashaaq nevertheless strives to avoid falling to the temptations of easy power that the Dark Side offers in exchange for corruption - as a result, he lacks many (but not all) of the signs of dark side corruption that mar and twist the features of so many of his kind.

| {Appearance} |

Rashaaq is a giant of a man. Standing at about seven and a half feet tall, he towers over almost all other humanoid species save for a select few (such as Gen'Dai and some Wookiees), and his frame is suitably heavy to match. With short, jet-black hair, grey eyes (of which his right has a scar prominently running vertically across it), and only sparse jewellery, Rashaaq cuts a spartan, austere figure, befitting of his status as a legendary warrior of a long-lost era of galactic history. Dressed in his armour, Rashaaq is transformed from a monolith into a terrifying leviathan of combat. His armour is a relic of history - a black cuirass of unknown material (rumoured to be durasteel with cortosis weave) and black pauldrons of the same material adorn his upper body, with a grey bodysuit on his upper arms meeting black armoured vambraces at the elbow, with integrated gauntlets protecting his hands. His thighs sport the same dark grey as his upper arms, but are protected by plates of interlocking durasteel for maximum flexibility and protection, whilst his lower leg is protected by all-encompassing armoured boots - again, made of the same material as his breastplate.

| {Equipment and Personal Belongings} |

Rashaaq's Lightsaber: Rashaaq's primary weapon when fighting Force users, Rashaaq's lightsaber, as one might imagine, sports a crimson-coloured blade, owing to the synthetic kyber crystal within the weapon. It is somewhat larger and heavier than your average saber, however, due to Rashaaq's strength and size, more akin to a cross between a regular saber and a greatsaber.

Ryndarra's Lightsaber: Rashaaq's daughter Ryndarra was a Jedi Knight of note during the Old Republic era, particularly during the Second Galactic War that broke out in 3642 BBY between the Sith Empire and Old Republic. On Corellia is where father and daughter crossed sabers, and Ryndarra was soundly defeated by Rashaaq in a duel between them. Cutting his saber across her eye (in a very similar manner to his own scar), Rashaaq also took Ryndarra's saber as a reminder to her that she still had a long way to go before she would hope to cross him again and emerge victorious. The fact he still has it says the rest.

Rashaaq's Combat Armour: Well, you didn't think I would spend that long writing about his armour only for him not to wear it, did you?

Modified Power Hammer: It's a power hammer, and it's his. The head and shaft of this power hammer have been replaced by a durasteel-cortosis weave to better resist lightsaber strikes, and to add further weight (and thusly concussive striking power) to the hammer. Wielded in conjunction with an arm or hand-mounted personal energy shield, Rashaaq has trained in the art of hammer combat as well as lightsaber duelling - a tactic that although seen as strange by his contemporaries, is remarkably effective against those unused to such a fighting style.

| {Physical Abilities} |
Form III Level: Master - Rashaaq is a master of defensive fighting, able to weather aggressive flurries of attacks by single or multiple opponents. Rashaaq relies on Soresu primarily to tire the opponent and leave them open for a more aggressive counter-strike using his other Form: Form V, Djem So. Djem So's lack of counters to blaster fire is easily made up for by Soresu's focus on defence, though Rashaaq is not as adept at Form V as Form III, as one might imagine.

Form V Level: Adept - The yang to Soresu's yin, once Rashaaq has tired the enemy by forcing them to always take the offensive, Rashaaq will counter with quick, aggressive strikes that force the opponent onto the defensive abruptly, allowing Rashaaq to pry for openings into an opponent's defences and exploit them either with a saber or with the Force.

Blaster Combat: An uncivilised form of combat, to be sure. Nevertheless, Rashaaq has trained with both blaster pistols and rifles.

Hammer Combat: Hammer Combat- wait, what the hell? Hammers? Yes, you read that correctly. Rashaaq, seeking another weapon with which to train, chose to train in the art of using a power hammer of all things to complement his strength and resilience, together with a personal energy shield in his left hand. As stated earlier, though this raised a few eyebrows in the ranks of the Sith, those who saw the tactic first-hand could not deny its effectiveness, particularly in close-quarters environments aboard ships or in corridors. Many Imperial soldiers owed their lives to Rashaaq leading the charge and soaking up much of the blaster fire from defending Republic soldiers on ship-to-ship boarding actions, and watching as Rashaaq's hammer smashed aside any obstacle that barred his path, be it flesh or durasteel.

| {Force Abilities} |
Force Lightning: Master - The one, the only, the most iconic of all Dark Side Force powers, Rashaaq's mastery of force lightning is extensive. Able to create coruscating hurricanes of Force lightning at his most powerful, Rashaaq can devastate entire platoons of soldiers with a blast of lightning so powerful it can melt through durasteel. Rashaaq also knows the powers of Force Tempest, Force Storm and a primitive form of Lightning Shield.

Telekinesis: Master - What's a Sith that can't raise people from the ground and choke them to death as they scrabble at their throat frantically, clawing and gasping for air? Or a Sith that can't throw a power hammer with such strength that it can blast through even reinforced barricades?

Force Rage: Master - So much anger. So much rage.

Force Strength: Master - Rashaaq, despite his considerable natural strength, has always pushed himself to the limits of physical endurance - Force Strength is one way he found to go further than the limits of the physical and into the power beyond. Commonly used in tandem with his hammer and arm shield, Force Strength amplifies the effects of his power hammer even further, allowing Rashaaq to crack even the toughest of stronghold defences...

Force Healing: Adept - As befitting a defensive fighter, Rashaaq is actually able to use the Force to heal injuries sustained by either himself or those close by him. He can't heal mortal wounds, of course, nor can he restore severed limbs, but he can heal most injuries one can find on a typical battlefield, ranging from blaster bolt impacts to lightsaber injuries. He can also channel his fury into Force energy in order to restore his own injuries.

Force Maelstrom: Adept - A combination of Force Protection, Force Lightning and Telekinesis, Force Maelstrom is a devastating combination. From sources: "First, the user would form a Force Bubble around their body, concealing and protecting them inside. Then, any loose objects/persons around the user would swirl around the bubble, through telekinesis. The user would devastate the objects by blasting them away, in a surge of Force lightning. Finally would release the energy gathered by forming the Maelstrom in all directions, similarly to the Force Repulse."

Force Destruction: Beginner - From Rashaaq's deeper exploration of the Dark Side of the Force came his ability with the terrifyingly-named Force Destruction. Described by onlookers as channelling a massive amount of Force energy and directing it in a single energy field that tore whatever was in its way apart, Force Destruction, despite its strength, is a power Rashaaq has never used, even in dire situations, and one he has limited knowledge of dealing with. It is a tiring and stressful Force power, and can leave Rashaaq drained of energy before a fight has truly begun.

| {Limitations} |
Culture Shock: It's been over three and a half thousand years, and much has changed since the days of the Sith Empire and Old Republic. Though some things remain the same, much of the new galaxy is unfamiliar to Rashaaq, as are the major actors on the galactic stage. It will take quite some getting used to before he's fully up to date on the galaxy as it stands.

That's a Long Sleep, Sir: Three and a half thousand years in carbonite stasis is a long time. It could even kill him to bring him out of it, if he's not careful. Though he can heal much of the immediate damage, it is likely that Rashaaq will not be in fighting condition for quite some time after his re-awakening, which in a way is somewhat beneficial - it will take time to re-adjust to his new environment, after all.

The Last of His Kind: Rashaaq is, to his knowledge, the only surviving Pureblood Sith in the galaxy. This will be hard to disguise, which means any activities that require disguising oneself or hiding one's identity will not be ideal for Rashaaq. The size doesn't help either, but you can't really hide the fact he's a member of a race long-thought dead in the galaxy at large.

| {Personality} |

| {Place of Origin} |
Born on the Imperial capital of Dromund Kaas to the Sith Purebloods Ryndarra Kirileth 'the Elder' and Kroshan Tornos, Rashaaq was raised in his infancy by his mother until the age of six, where he attended the Sith Academy on Korriban. However, whilst you can take the man out of Kaas City, but you can't take the Kaas City out of the man.

| {Background} |
A history of your character showing important events in their past.

- The Previous Night -
- One of the Guest Bedrooms, Remdal Estate, Zerul City -

Angora sloped into the room, exhausted. She had been slogging about the city almost all day, trying to at least cobble together an outfit that didn't resemble that of a dockside girl from bartering her various jewellery that she had collected whilst she was under the influence of the... thing in the sword. Try as she might, she could not quite understand what it was that compelled her to do what she did in the wilds, what the spirit... or outsider... or whatever it was called, actually was. Olan had tried to explain it to her as best he could, but it was no real use - Angora simply didn't understand what - or who, if it was a person - it was.
All she knew for certain was that it had tried to take control, and Iridiel's ritual had beaten it into submission. At least, that was the idea, and Angora's hope for the future. She unslung her pack onto the tiled floor next to the bed that had been given to her, and sighed heavily, walking over to the window overlooking the surrounding view.

It had been a very long day indeed, and... by the gods she ached. Her whole body simply hurt.

Not a sharp, stabbing pain as one might expect from, say, an injury or a torn muscle or anything, but just a dull, throbbing pain in all of her joints. She pulled up a chair and sat down, the wood creaking slightly as she rested her weight onto it. 'H-Huh... I suppose this is the first time I've actually been able to think for myself for more than half an hour...' she thought to herself. 'I guess the spirit's influence was able to push me to the limit without needing to rest.' Looking around the room, she noticed some bottles of red wine - an import from Relimon perhaps - and some crystal glasses, almost begging to be drunk. Angora cracked a wry smile. She could certainly use a good, stiff drink, and a warm bath and bed after such a long time in the wilderness with none of the creature comforts and relative security of home, at least such as it was.
The latter gave her some concern, however - the Firm likely learned of her arrival back in Zerul the moment she passed through the gates. It would have been pointless to try and conceal herself - she was known to the Firm, and any efforts to camouflage her presence might actually have made the situation more obvious to an internal observer. Still, there was little she could immediately do, given the circumstances. She could sleep on it.

'Problem for another day.'

Angora reached down to unlace her boots, but before she did, she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye, to her far left, in the room. Despite her weariness, she sprung to her feet, starting for her blade, before realising it was not at her hip, but instead out of her reach, with her pack, she having covered it up in an attempt to make it less obvious that she was carrying an unbelievably rare artifact of the gods... well, at least as best you can conceal such an item. No matter, she would be able to overpower-

Nothing. She must have imagined it. 'Must be getting tired.' She sat back down and unlaced her boots, kicking them to one side before getting up to walk over to the wine bottles, taking one in her hand and, unsheathing a knife she had purchased earlier that day, she opened the cork with a couple of twists of the knife. She sat back down and took a long, thirsting drink. The heady, intoxicating, sensuous liquid washed down her throat, a welcome relief from naught but water, or the odd travel drink or caudle that she could steal from travellers, for months on end. By the gods, it was good... She took another drink from the bottle, and sank back into the chair, letting her exhaustion flow over her as a swollen river would flood in times of plentiful rain. Civilisation... you couldn't beat it. She took drink after drink, staring out at Zerul City, until she finished the bottle... It had barely taken her a few minutes to drain the entire thing. 'I must have missed that more than I thought. Still, you know what they say... alcohol, the source of, and answer to, all of life's problems.'

A fresh wave of exhaustion washed over her... it was no use, she had to sleep. Angora got to her feet and eased herself out of her ragged excuses for clothes, allowing them simply to fall to the floor in a rumpled heap of effectively rubbish. Gods, she must have looked a state to her travelling companions, with her wild, unkempt hair, her no doubt foul and offensive smell, and whatever it was that passed for clothes she had on her back. But now, she felt free. The old Angora, the Angora of crime and punishment, was there, in that heap. The new Angora stood atop the pile, victorious with her companions' help. On cue, in the distance, she could hear the raucous shouts, and songs, and laughter, of the far-landers, Iridiel and Domnall... they sounded like they knew how to enjoy themselves at least. Free drink did that to people, she guessed. They were laughing and conversing in their own language - Domnall's rougher, coarser, almost more stereotypically-barbarian tones evident against Iridiel's more rounded, mellowed speech. Angora walked back over to the bed, her feet padding softly against the stone floor, as she listened to the two of them. Perhaps Iridiel was of townsfolk stock, whilst Domnall was of the wilds, like her? Who knew... Her mind wandered as she lay on top of the covers, wandering to her other companions... Olan, the kindly old man, the one who had taken pity on her and tried first to commune with her when she was first under the spirit's influence, and who had given Iridiel the idea that there was someone beneath the spirit's influence, trying to get out. She owed him, owed him an awful lot. She owed Iridiel, too. And she owed Jaelnec.


She whispered his name, almost rolling it around her mouth as one might roll about smoke from a fine tobacco pipe or cigar, to savour the sweet, smoky taste. She stared at her reflection in the empty wine bottle, and reached out to take hold of it.
Legegio is in a world-building mood. I've already done some things for Rodoria, but I've tried to steer away from treading on people's toes. The Far West, though... that's a different story. Welcome, weary traveller, to a bastion of humanity, far from Rodoria...

Far to the west of the lands of Rodoria, beyond even the lands of the Qetemak Steppe, and beyond the Yawning Gorge, stands a proud bastion of man, a beacon of civilisation amongst the warring savage empires of the Far West. This is Thessaleia, an old and mighty empire ruled by the iron fist of the Thessaleian Emperors from the great and sumptuous Méga Palátion, located within the heart of the eponymous capital city, Thessaleia. Thessaleian banners fly over all manners of lands and climates, from the snow-covered mountains of the Lefká Óri in the south and the harsh, jagged spikes of the Odontotá Vouná in the east, to the forests and humid jungled areas which mark the western borders between the Synoriakoús Archontes and the wild and untamed lands of the Eireannach Contaetha - but its heartland is the fertile, arable region around the capital city, now criss-crossed with canals and irrigation projects drawing from the mighty Rivers Archos and Basileis.

The Empire is split into various administrative regions for ease and efficiency of rule. The largest, and arguably most important, wealthy and influential, is of course the area surrounding the capital city, known officially as the Mitropolitikí Periochí, or the 'Metropolitan Region'. Then, expanding outward, are firstly the Themes, the lands of the Thessaleian nobility, and the vast majority of the realm's composition. There are eighteen Themes, each with their own provincial seat, ruled by a noble handpicked by the Emperor in a system of viceroyalty - known as the strategos (for men) or strategissa (for women). To further clarify, though the nobility oft have their own hereditary positions and seats of power, upon the death of the strategos/gissa of a Theme, the Imperial court in Thessaleia will be informed, and a selection of candidates placed forward for the Emperor's own consideration. It is often the case that the prospective candidates will be summoned to the Imperial Palace along with the message that a strategos has passed away, so that not only can the Emperor inspect the new candidates for the role of strategos personally, but it also prevents the possibility of a coup d'etat by various rival candidates, each wishing to cement their place upon the provincial throne before the agents of the Emperor are aware of the situation.
It is not without precedent, however, for such a coup to occur, and when it does, the Empire in serious danger of civil war, particularly when it is a large and powerful Theme that has undergone such a 'crisis of succession' as Thessaleian historians have termed them - as a failure to act upon the Emperor's part may give rise to such crises of succession in other Themes, and the subsequent collapse of imperial authority. When such events do arise, the Emperor, almost without exception, calls his men to arms, and open war is made upon the usurper, usually with relatively little bloodshed due to the usurper's authority having been fatally undermined by his most treasonous act. It is also not without precedent that a particularly merciful (or perhaps bankrupt) Emperor has nevertheless allowed such a strategos to maintain their position, although such actions are likely accompanied with staggering costs in gold, which would beggar even the greatest merchants of the coasts.

Beyond the great Themes of the nobility, and particularly common in the west, are the Synoriakoús Archontes, or the Border Lords or Princes. The Border Princes are more minor, lesser nobles, but arguably command as great a military and national responsibility as any Strategos of a Theme - for it is their responsibility to defend (and sometimes expand) the borders of the Empire. Particular note should be given to the Western Border Princes, who are locked in a seemingly-endless struggle with the Eireannach of the Contaetha on their borders - such a struggle is greatly imbalanced, for the Eireannach consistently suffer defeat after defeat at the hands of the technologically-superior and much better disciplined Tagmata of the Empire, but the Western Border Princes nevertheless remain on the defensive, as for the most part they are reluctant to expand into the wilds of the eastern Eireannach - though for financial and economic reasons than cowardice. The wilds of the Contaetha are just that - wild, untamed, and economically backward. The monetary and human cost of colonising these lands are beyond the capabilities of even the most powerful Border Prince, and only the imperial household could possibly maintain a colonisation expedition into the Contaetha, which even the most vigorous Emperors have been loath to do, for they have been more concerned with the monsters of the mountains and pirates that raid from the seas, than bands of barbaroi from the west.
Perhaps unexpectedly, given the attitude the Contaetha have towards the Thessaleians, the Eireannach nevertheless comprise a considerable portion of the population of the Western Border Princes' lands. Migrations of Eireannach displaced from their homes by war, plague, natural disaster or simple overpopulation have crossed the fortified lines of the Border Princes on more than one occasion, and there has been a degree of multiculturalism that has developed as a result. The Eireannach are seen as curiosities, and also powerful warriors, by the Thessaleians, whilst the Eireannach often find themselves enjoying a quality of life far beyond that available in the Contaetha, particularly in the military. Indeed, it is not uncommon to find several battalions of Eireannach fighters within Tagmata stationed in the Western Border Princes, fighting their barbarian kin alongside the men of the Empire.

And yet currently, all is not well within the Empire. Athanasios IV, of the House of Tzimiskes, Emperor of Thessaleia for the past twenty-two years, has taken ill with a mysterious malady that has almost permanently confined him to the Imperial Palace, and, on occasion, to his bed for days at a time. Debate has beset the imperial physicians regarding the nature of this malady - are they cancerous growths, sucking the life from his body, or is it something else? Regardless, this impasse has led to the stagnation of imperial government, not least due to the machinations of Athanasios' sons, Athanasios the Younger, and Theodosios, both of whom are vying for the ever-coveted position of Kaisarios, or imperial heir-designate. And yet, waiting in the wings, is the ambitious, talented daughter of Athanasios, Stratonike, who has secretly plotted with several members of the imperial household, as well as several of the most powerful strategoi, to seize the throne for herself. Empresses have been few and far between for Thessaleia - the last was Zoe II over two hundred years ago - but their rules have generally been noted as golden ages for the Empire... perhaps now is the time for another Empress.

This is still a Work in Progress.
Hi folks, Legion here, I write Angora Kelenwyn (and also sort of Iridiel Kavanagh though she's more of an NPC now).

For you folks interested in the RP and want check out joining, feel free to go over and check out the OOC thread:
*snoops in lurk*

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