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Née 1991. I feel old already.

Been roleplaying from the age of 15, write on solo projects in my spare time. I heartily encourage interaction when it comes to writing and creative efforts. Like to think I'm an understanding but stern and solid GM when I host games, and a collaborative and creative individual. Used to draw. Write in advanced section.

While I might not be as omni-present a some of you are on RP:G, I have been a part of it since 2009-2010 (if my memory serves me right). However, I must admit that post Guildfall, my activity also dropped. Slowly getting back into things.

I attended university to acquire my master's degree in history. I already have an educational degree for history and English, and have taught both in secondary school. Prior to pursuing a pedagogical degree, I served with my country's army for two years. Currently I am a fulltime teacher of diverse courses and subjects.

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Bio is a bit short and you need to figure out if your character's named Baltic, Balrick or Balick. I also suggest you do away with the lists and instead describe the sort of equipment he uses. Regarding force techniques and other skills you should at least somehow explain how he learned them. What are his interests? What are his goals? This sheet definitely needs to be expanded on.
She reminds me a bit of Avatar Korra, even if it's a different franchise. This is a good thing.

Approved. Have fun.
Collem watched the alerts, messages, number values and reports with grim vigilance. A holographic projection of the ongoing ambuscade was played out before his eyes, making the control station glow in reds and blues. Things were progressing better than he had dared hope. So far, most of the plan had worked: most shuttles and boarding craft had managed to get through and get in. Operatives who had infiltrated the refuelling station were still intact and causing trouble. Fighters and gunships were engaging the enemy all over the board. The Republic had been caught with their breeches down, but their scrambled fighters were putting up stiff resistance. Soon, he knew, those Hammerheads would recover from the initial shock and bring their arsenal to bear.

“Tell Flight Commander Turan to watch those breakaway squadrons. They might try to get around them,” Collem pointed out a small party of Aureks flitting around on the hologram. Aside from the possible damage, those Republic fighters might try and get far enough way to get some message out beyond the jammed communications bubble. Watching the battle unfold, he recognised patterns, feints and probes. Like a director picking out the notes in a symphony, Collem analysed the space battle as if it were a dance floor.

It was time to face the music.

A communication officer stood ready to forward Collem’s orders. “They will be lining up for attack runs soon. Tell the captains to put their point defence on alert, and bring interceptor squadrons into position. I bet they will be gunning for the Ajuur.” He nodded as if confirming with himself. He pressed a button to bring up a direct line of communication with the captain of the Ajuur-class. “Purple Jewel, this is Captain Corvinian. Recall a few fighters from their engagements, set up a screen to intercept. They’ll be coming for you soon.”

The Purple Jewel confirmed reception of the command. “Copy. Captain Jarmand requests support. Considerable support.”

“Get the bulk cruisers to cover your sides.”

“No, sir. He wishes the Terminus cruisers to join the fight. One of the Hammerheads is moving into a defensive position.”

“That’s a negative. Reform the attack line with the bulk cruisers and engage that lone Hammerhead.” There was still a chance they would be able to win this without deployment of the two distinctly imperial vessels. That is, if they were able to put the Republic cruiser out of the fight soon, before the other two had had a chance to slip their moorings. He knew he was asking a lot. Keeping the corridor to the boarded ships open was starting to take its toll on the motley fighter squadrons. Casualties and losses were gradually mounting as more and more Aureks were scrambled.

“Damned foolish bravery,” Collem hissed under his breath, and felt a begrudging grin tugging at his mouth. He would have done the same. That Hammerhead was about to get a pounding that would crack it open like a crustacean, but it would give the other two the opportunity to get into the fray. “Any word on the asset yet?”

“None, sir.”

Jarmand’s Ajuur-class cruiser was reporting the first incoming fire. Damage was minimal, but they all knew proton torpedoes would be coming soon. “Hail Vaughn’s ship… and get our systems hot. We might have to lock horns with those Hammerheads sooner than I had thought. Notify Jarmand's Purple Jewel, command him to fall back a little and see if he can draw those Republic cruisers into range of our guns.”

Hey there and here goes!

Her nails are kept long and filed into points, laced with a different toxin every week. Usually, they are believed to be non-lethal unless an individual is physically weak.

Sounds eccentric and none too practical.

She’s tried to fail through.

What do you mean by this?

Her methods vary from harsh, degrading words to using toxins with a various range of effects. Her toxins are difficult to find in the body and even harder to trace back to her since she teaches every student in her class to create different toxins weekly. Just because she collects the projects, doesn’t mean they can’t be replicated later.

How does the use of toxins on students advance their education? How does unknown use? I suppose you somewhat refer to it later on, in the final paragraph of the interview but I'd like some more elaboration. Does she always teach through pain?

With Lords and Darths, she will often take a more respectful and humbling tone toward them.

Humble tone, as 'humbling' means she teaches them humility or puts them in their place and tells them off.

Other than the numerous use of 'reflect' I think this is great. Go for me (someone else will review the force power levels in depth).
Collem kept a tight lid on his personal reservations concerning the mission, but he knew that Briar was able slip passed his stoic exterior – much like she would be able slip passed the Republic’s emergency scrambled fighters and flak. A commander was supposed to exude calm and confidence, present a bedrock for his subordinates. Nothing was as contagious as panic. He had seen one rout and one mutiny during his time with the Imperial Navy; vicious and violent experiences both of them. Collem cared not to relive anything like it again.

The blonde ace sashaying in her flight-suit neglected calling him by his rank or title, a personal privilege. It was not as if he was a stickler, but a certain distance between superior and subordinate had to be maintained. Collem was against befriending those serving under him. After all, it was hard sending your friends into the jaws of war never mind sending them to their deaths when the greater good demanded it. Briar, however, was different. There were other designs and plans in motion, things in play. Even if it was his old man pulling their strings, Collem admitted he was extremely fond of the blonde pilot. A rather considerable notion that, he thought as he reminisced of how whimsical she could be.

But not when she flew. Her concentration and skill were sharp enough to split atoms. There was no doubt in his mind as to her expertise in handling a spaceship, which was a great font of comfort for the Captain.

Even if his eyes kept on surveying the hurried but meticulous preparations for the impending strike, he saw how well the uniform suited her, how effortlessly smooth she moved, how her pony-tail swayed merrily. A woman in uniform… Why must she torment me so? He noted the other women in tight-fitting uniforms and the air of professionalism, and was forced to amend his thoughts. Women in uniform, why must they torment me so?

They stood close to one another, close enough for the omission of rank to be allowed. He grimaced, shadow flitting over his face as the mask of confidence momentarily slipped. “If they’re half as good as they think they are, we’re in the clear.” He had had little time to acquaint himself with the prowess of the elements at his disposal. Some he had been familiar with, others he knew only from military manuals, briefings and personal research. Most of those participating in the operation might had been battle-tested… but not by him. That made a world of difference.

She coaxed a wry, ragged smile from him that stripped away years and almost made him look boyish. “Are you referring to that business on Sarapin?” They had made it out alive by the skin of their teeth, and largely because of Briar’s skill with a stick. “Or that sith-spitting debacle over Lannik?”

For a moment he considered lying to her, claiming he had the full scoop on the assignment. Would that make her better at her job? Instead he clasped his hands behind his back and set his face. He saw no point in hiding from her. “Apparently I am on a ‘need to know basis’. So, you can be sure of it that several agendas are being served by this… helter-skelter OP." Collem sighed, numbing the anger in his chest. "I did some heavy digging before being told to cease. They threatened to pull me off this detail, but I could not think of anyone else remotely qualified to pull this off.” Conceited, perhaps, but also responsible, he judged. Collem could practically hear Briar playfully rolling her eyes at him. The lack of information and intelligence (the latter nonetheless thankfully augmented with the 975th's efforts) would mean a lot of people would die today. A lack of intel almost always translated in a higher loss of life. Trust had forever been in short supply within the Empire.

“I don’t like it one jot. After this is through, I intend to pick up the shovel again. This thing goes high up the food chain, very high.” The lights suddenly died, turned red as the air was cut into shreds by the horn. Even after all the years of hearing the blaring alarm, it still put the fire in Collem’s bones. “Right. On. Time.” There was nothing boyish about the grin adorning his face now. He made to turn but paused, then put a propriety-breaking hand on Briar’s shoulder and squeezed down. “I will be watching closely from the bridge the whole time. Good luck…” A surprisingly gentle look softened his otherwise stern features. “And… be careful, Briar.” He followed up with a very uncharacteristic thing to say. "No unnecessary risks... please."

Then he was gone, brightly spit-shined boots beating out a purposeful cadence in the crimson-lit corridor. Collem was already volleying commands into his comms. “I’ll have the hide of anyone not at his designated station by the time I make it back to the bridge,” growled the Captain. “Get the tractor beams running hot, all squadrons go, priority targets are their engines and comms.” If all went according to plan they would be muffling any signal trying to go out of the system, but one could never be too careful.

Soon the Imperial vessels would swoop down upon the non-suspecting Republic convoy, turbolasers and ion-cannons blazing and ripping through space to be followed by waves of personnel craft. Looking back, Collem saw the crews froth into action. His eyes caught the masked sith one last time before the door hissed shut. An epigram of some distant memory of a Kaas City play came to mind. Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war.

His looks is athletic and lithe [...] His hair, brownish black, lays to one side naturally

His looks are - His hair lies.

At his hip, an impressive sabre rests in a sheathe. It is decorated with silver inlay and the blade has been made with a cortosis weave, with the pommel and handguard made to curl around the hand in a half basket.

Seems a bit of an extravagant affectation. This isn't WH 40K. I'm willing to go 'sure' if a second GM agrees.



Captain Harvester has been, as of yet been unable to reverse the effects of the assignment on his career.

Jumbled sentence. Check tenses and structure.

Alcohol abuse

Is he a drunk or does he occasionally partake?

Captain Harvester has few documented interests, however of those few are painting.

That clause needs to be rephrased.

At the time, despite relatively light experience in command, Captain Harvester demonstrated his skill of command by engaging and defeating a small flotilla of pirates, despite the Intrepid having taken severe damage and being alone in the engagement. [...]While other officers of the fleet he had been assigned to suffered heavy casualties during an attack, Captain Harvester quickly adapted to the situation and attacked the rebel flagship. The rebels were not expecting the maneuver and the flagship was able to be boarded and taken quickly, the rest of the enemy fleet able to be quickly destroyed following the action and chaos among the rebel ranks.

These sentences are needlessly long and therefore difficult to understand. Chop them up.

A failed assault on a rebelling moon lead to...

lead --> led (and again in the interview)


professors --> professor's

It wasn’t anything to fantastic

to --> too

Interviewer: But you survived? How?

Cpt. Harvester: I had been thrown behind a command console by the initial impact. I hit the body of another officer who cushioned me. He survived, I didn’t.

That would mean Agent Colfac is interviewing a ghost.

It is a petty squabble that came about from a mistake I made. Nothing more.

What mistake? What squabble? What are your plans with this? I have the feeling you want to explain through RP. Is that correct?
While the opening post is up, and so the RP has kicked off, I am going to keep the story open for anyone wishing to join. I think it's an easy fix to "plug and play". The only requisite is that you come up with a properly plausible reason for being there.

What a shambles. This was a rushed, badly prepared pile of bantha crap someone had dumped into his lap. A catastrophe in the making, the kind of which Collem had not seen since the later days of the Great War. Whilst staring out from the bridge, Collem reviewed the recent events. There was some mild chatter in the pits behind him, but he felt their tension. The long-range scanners had picked up something. Into the breach, let's get this shit-show over with, rang his grumbling thoughts.

The strike was supposed to be surgical: quick and clean. He had need of stealth ships, black-ops teams and commandos… Instead, they had given him a small flotilla of run-down vessels scraped together from wherever they could have been found and a roster that smelled of improvisation.

Furthermore, this was a Deep Core theatre, and that meant none of the massive Harrower-class Dreadnoughts. They were needed to keep local systems in line, and menacingly patrol borders. Besides, their size would have made the hyperspace jumps (of which there had been many) harder than they already had been. That was alright, he preferred smaller and more mobile forces anyway.

Even if the Terminus-class Cruisers around which he had built his task force were crewed by green boys and officers, Collem was happy for it. He was confident they would rise to the occasion. After all, these vessels were perfect for pursuit and interdiction missions, and would more than be able to go toe-to-toe with the Republic’s convoy. The rest of the Imperial detail: two modified Class VI bulk freighters (which were antiquated and hideous to look upon) and an Ajuur-class heavy cruiser. Their job was to vacate their complements of fighters and smaller craft which contained the boarding parties, and then draw the Republic’s fire. Some of these smaller craft would be auto-piloted or controlled from a capital ship’s bridge. Collem thereby intended higher survival chances for his assault teams, and hoped to increase the element of shock.

Once the target had been located and taken into custody, the boarding parties were to get her to one of the waiting Terminus cruisers. Meanwhile, the Class VI and Ajuur would serve as little more than sponges to soak up laser and ion fire, as well as give the ambush a sufficiently dubious character. The Empire needed to be able to plausibly deny having executed this deep strike. They were at peace, after all.

According to his intel, the Republic would be transporting the high-profile target on one of three Hammerhead-class cruisers. They being Hammerheads as opposed to the sleeker Thranta-class meant they could field substantial starfighter support which matched their own. He would rather have had the upper-hand there. In fact, he had requested a carrier-role vessel but had been denied. In addition, Hammerheads were notoriously sturdy and would be able to take an almost vulgar amount of punishment.

As he had just had to explain to his captains, this was a boon. It meant they would be able to lay down heavy fire, while not having to pull too many punches due to the risk of hurting the subject of the Emperor’s obsession. Of course, he had not used those exact words… that would have been madness. The Emperor did not obsess!

The main boarding parties were each put under the command of a junior officer assigned to the Sith who had joined the mission. He was counting on their force powers to aid them in locating the high-profile force-user the Empire wanted to lay their hands on so desperately. Let them sniff one another out. One squad, Collem remembered, had a Mandalorian mercenary assigned to them. The chap had bridled at the position, made some crude jokes about it too. Clearly, the fellow preferred working alone but Collem was not about to just allow that. This was a matter of Imperial interest. Besides, troopers (as much as it pained Collum to say) were expendable. He would rather they took a blaster shot than a mercenary tracker… that was what they were there for. He had said as much to the man. Like the Sith, this Zaek Saxon was there to hunt. And like a hunting dog, the Mandalorian would do as he was told. Collem wagered he would know better than to bite the hand that fed him.

After the final briefing, he had ordered the flotilla to dip into a nearby nebula with their bridge crews and captains looking at an extensive set of coordinates. He had sent ahead a small scouting party which had covertly mapped the vicinity of the refuelling station, providing them with the proverbial lay of the land. Already the 975th Special Duties Battalion had proven its worth to this mission. Now, once the Republic convoy of Hammer- and Axeheads would show for a rapid refuel, the Imperials could fall upon them with ease. Collem had ordered battle-stations and cloaking measures in effect. Like Dxun’s Maalras, they were lying in wait.
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