Stormyx

Star Wars - Banshee Down

The doctor will not be helping with hangovers 😂

Star Wars - Banshee Down

Species: Twi’lek
Age: 30

Equipment:
Medical Satchel; contains various items including Bacta patches, coagulants, pain suppressants, wraps, traditional Twi'lek tools.
Diagnostic Scanner - Civilian grade, held together by tape and dreams at this point.
Vibroknife - Concealed and rarely used.
Datachips, Credit stash, cache map - Favours, whispers, and contingency funds.

Skills:
Traditional Healing & Trauma Medic - First and foremost, skills that are deeply ingrained rather than trained. A calm and nurturing touch and intuition. She can sense what is wrong before her equipment can confirm it. Training and determination for the trade later in her life has given her a more foundational knowledge and means she can rapidly stabilise real wounds through diagnosis and improvisation of what she has available.

Discretion and Trust - Both go hand in hand. People speak freely around her. She does not pry, posture, or judge. Korsu easily adjusts her speech patterns and adopts appropriate body language to blend in or disappear. She has a generally soft manner and thus can keep people calm without having to threaten.

Survivalist Stealth - Korsu knows the lay of the land of where she is. She knows when patrol routes change, and she picks up on trends quickly and knows how to fragment and pass on information effectively. You'll also never know she was there. Being thorough and meticulous for details means she can sanitise and clean up a space to avoid forensic detection.

Calm Under Pressure - Korsu can keep her wits about her in crisis situations. Threats and chaos rarely shake her focus, meaning she can function when others panic.

Weaknesses:
Physically Vulnerable / Non-Combat - Korsu can be very easily overwhelmed. She has no formal weapons training as well as minimal experience and exposure to any kind of arms. In a violent encounter, she would be reliant on others and her quick thinking to get out of there…

No Tactical Awareness - She relies on instinct over a sense of practical and lived experience of being part of a tactical team.

Avoidant of Direct Confrontation - Korsu prefers not to argue, prefers not to fight even with words and will take a subtle action and delay things rather than have a decisive and direct confrontation.

Self-Reliant - Fiercely independent and stubborn and will rarely ask for help, even if allies and resources are available.

Heavy Moral Compass - Every life she fails to save, every consequence of passed information erodes her emotional resilience over time.

Unyielding Ethical Lines - Once Korsu has decided something is wrong, she will not participate in it to a stubborn degree.

History:
For Korsu, life under the Empire was hell. She lived under two banners; scarcity and control. Born far from privilege and brought to Imperial space as a young child she spent years moving around and between labour districts and fringe settlements. Long before Imperial clinics Twi’leks relied on line healers. Keepers of anatomical knowledge, tradition, and ritualised care. Methods passed from lekku-to-lekku in the form of a communal and ancient art. The emphasis of returning to a state of calmness. Such a manner was passed to Korsu; not from a living lineage, but a broken one. Korsu does not remember her family clearly. All she has are impressions of them. Names are gone and faces blur together and whether it was through displacement, sale, or evacuation, she became separated when she was young. Just one of countless Twi’lek strays left scattered across the galaxy.

In the fringe settlements, her methods developed from spiritual instinct to actual skill in the field through practice and a willingness to learn. This was a field she learned out of necessity and a desire to keep her hands busy and stay gentle out of principle. What began as mutual aid hardened into her own oath. If she had the means to save a life, she would not choose who deserved it.

Information brokering grew naturally from her work. People tended to talk when they were tended to and when they felt they were safe, and they always were. She never sought power and influence; simply remembered what she had heard and found where it should go to have the best effect. She learned where information needed to go to prevent raids, soften crackdowns, or give a desperate family a chance to disappear before it was too late. Such whispers led her to her current path. Such whispers tested her oath eventually.

A wounded Imperial Shock Trooper left bleeding out with armour cracked and his squad, if he ever had one, gone. All gone. He was an easy target. Leaving him would have been easy. Should have been easy. Leaving him would have been justified. The Empire had taken years from her and innumerable others but when she looked into his eyes, she could not reconcile that this soldier was part of that same machine. He was just dying, and if he did then the Empire had killed him too.

It was in secret that she treated him, and it required resources she could barely afford. Still, when he happened to survive she expected him to report her, to kill her, or to disappear. He stayed. Together they draw little attention and wander through just as yet another odd pairing on a planet full of them.

Absolute Comics: Odyssey [Invite Only]

Admittedly a bit of a dud compared to the first one but I'll get outta the winter season after my next post hopefully into the meat and potatoes of my main arc

@rocketrobie2

Lies! It was great! :)

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

*sighs*

My Hider

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

My brain when my RP gets its first proper post:

@Roman

My brain when more posts come in and we can start making memes.

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

Hayden's brain rn

Fashionably Late: A Crime Thriller Roleplay

_{LOCATION. Ashington, UK}

003. The Fighter

---

_{INTERACTIONS . Amy Fenwick, Eilidh Vass}

It had already been a long morning and Hayden Fenwick sat behind the wheel of his BMW and let the engine idle away. Snow continually collected against the kerb and all of its grey had disappeared now beneath a silver dusting. He waited there for a while, tapping his foot and tapping his fingers; passing chewing gum from one side of his mouth to the other. It was a great effort to not to think about the time between now and his flight. He was really trying not to think about how he’d already been sat for fifteen minutes past the agreed time. If he went inside then it would be a cup of tea and a biscuit. Amy would realise she didn’t have this or that. Amy would offer another brew. The kids would act up and get excited. No. No, it was safer to hold it out in the car. At least the seats were heated and were keeping his arse warm. The sound of a front door closing finally stirred him to life and his sister began shuffling precariously down her driveway bundled in North Face with blonde hair piled high in a bun. Her house keys dangled and clinked and jangled from her manicured hand. Even in the snow, she wore slides on her feet - only with a pair of outrageous neon pink fluffy socks. She was the very picture of someone stuck in the twilight zone and black hole of time between Christmas and New Years. All comfort and not giving a shit. Hayden was surprised she wasn't still wearing pyjamas until he realised he couldn't confirm that she wasn't under her puffer jacket. He decided that she looked like the Stay-Puft Marshmallow and also knew to keep that observation to himself and so fought against his own growing, childish smirk.

Amy offered a wave that Hayden recognised as being sarcastic to a neighbour who had popped their head out of the door to watch the SUV on the driveway. “God she’s a nosy cow,” Amy said under a breath as she closed the passenger door and sat down. “Morning pet, ready for New York?” she then asked, changing the subject and glancing at Hayden with a smile. Pleasant as always; on the surface. He returned her smile with his own and instinctively popped the centre console to reveal a bag of skittles, assorted haribo, and more of the chewing gum. “Ahhhh cheers,” she said with a brisk exhale. “Bloody cold out today mind.” She helped herself.

“D’yna what?” Hayden sighed, turning the wheel to begin driving away. “When someone offers to drive the other to the airport, that usually means they’ll drive.”

“Aye I know,” Amy clipped back. “I like it when you drive though. I just get to pick the tunes.” She slid off her footwear and tucked one foot under her leg and pulled out her phone, connecting it to the bluetooth absently. He rolled his eyes but there was no malice, this was just how it was. His sisters walked all over him and he let them.

In the drive to the airport, the pair conversed as they often did; mostly about menial things and occasionally breaking between if a song was played that required a moment of tuneless singing. When they had arrived, only Hayden got out of the car, collecting a holdall from the backseat and a shorter wheeled suitcase. Amy was busying herself picking the dinosaurs out of the Tangfastics before she climbed out of the car; slides slid back on. “You not coming in with us like?” Hayden asked with a false incredulousness. He knew she wasn’t.

“No! Parkings like twenty quid for half an hour,” she said as she wrapped her arms around him. He might have towered over her but she squeezed him tight. “Fly safe,” she muffled into his shoulder. As they pulled apart she glanced off to the side and then back to him. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a couple of quid?” He knew she would ask and as he pulled out and unfolded his wallet her hawk eye spied a crisp fifty note. “Oh that’ll do, if you haven’t got any change,” she said.

He rolled his eyes. He didn’t mind. “It was just Christmas Amz, I just got you that bloody Apple Watch and about skinted myself on everything.”

“Aye aye,” she said with a smile. The note found its way to sitting in between her fingers. “I just need a treat. I’ll use it to put fuel in the car.”

“It’s my car,” Hayden said.

“Aye.”

“And I just filled the tank,” he added.

“Aye, I know. It just won’t be full when I’m done with it,” she smiled with a trickle of laughter.

“Alright fair enough,” he relented again and closed the door for her as she got into the driver's seat this time.

“New York’s meant to be amazing at New Year,” she said, having wound the window down to lean out of it just so. “The ball drop or whatever it is they do and that. I don’t know.”

“Just feels like I’ll be half the world away,” Hayden added, glancing out around him. “It’ll be canny I’m sure,” he said as if to convince himself. “Just, Amy,” his voice lowered and he leaned against the window. “Look after Mam, make sure she doesn’t overdo it like she did at Christmas alright? I don’t want her to-”

“Aw had ya pash man, we’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry, just go and enjoy yourself and we’ll see you when you get back. I hope you're bringing us back a present mind for taking care of your car and that.” She bit a tangfastic in half.

There was no arguing here, so he agreed and stepped back from the door. “Aye, aye alright. Drive safe.” He watched as she drove off and he could no longer see her in the car park.

---

The phone rang and Hayden listened to the quiet buzz of it in his ear. A skyline he didn’t recognise looked back at him. Couldn’t be placed from anything he’d seen before even if he had been to New York many times; he’d just never managed to make it feel familiar. Everyone was always in a hurry in New York. They were in a hurry and they’d buy a hot dog from a street vendor and talk about the Yankees or the Knicks and he never understood it really. It all just felt like some great grand thing; some unattainable mythical place saved only for people who were born there. People that were struggling actors or people who worked in fashion or were paleontologists. He realised he was thinking of Friends and shrugged at the association. Whatever it was about it, it remained foreign to him, but exciting all the same; like a novelty and like opportunity all in one.

“Hello?” came a voice on the other end.
“Heya.” Hayden said.
“Didn't think you'd call. Did you land all right?”
“Yeah. Flight was alright. Just long and the food was shit, but I still ate it.”
“I'm sure you did,” she laughed in the background and he could hear the sound of a spoon against a ceramic tea cup circling and circling until it tapped at the edge.
“You alright?” he asked.
“Yeah I'm fine.”
“The hotel's nice.”
“Oh yeah?”
“I've seen the World's Best Cup of Coffee about seventy times just on this street.”
“Oh I bet you're really caffeinated then,” she laughed.
“Yeah buzzin’ out me arse,” he quipped before he looked back at the horizon. This strange jagged thing and no green beyond it.
“Anyway,” he paused. “I just wanted to call you… I don't know,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “Have fun and good luck Hayden. I'll see you when you get back okay?”
“Yeah. Sure. I'll see ya.”

“Happy New Year, Eilidh,” he sighed to himself as he tossed the phone down on the bed carefully, letting it land on a crisp white duvet soundlessly as he walked across the floor. The room was absurdly big. The room was absurdly bright. The room was absurdly expensive. He knew it. The mirror sent his own reflection back at him. Tall, broad, crumpled still even now from his flight but still him. He quirked his brow. Still Hayden. For now, anyway. A Tom Ford suit his publicist had procured for him was hanging in the wardrobe like it was normal. He couldn’t help but whistle at it as he touched the fabric. For a moment he glanced back over his shoulder, sidelong out at the strange city, taking it all in. New York. All view and noise. All people he'd never meet or talk to. People just going about their day to their jobs and then to the coffee house. “It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear,” he began singing quietly. “When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year.”

He was thinking about Friends again.

---

_{LOCATION. New York City - Marquee Skydeck}

---

He was two Vodka Red Bulls in and still found that the sight of a lime slice floating in the top of it tickled him. The music had been blasting all night, the biggest hits of the year and classics and in betweens. He hadn’t quite made his way to the dancefloor yet, but it was only a matter of time. Not that his publicist would be happy to see him throwing shapes in a Tom Ford; he’d at least had the sense to leave his jacket with the cloakroom attendant. The top button of his shirt had already had to come undone with the warmth that was being created in the club from partygoers and the heat and the smoke of the music equipment. The Skydeck was a nice spot to sit some of it out for now. To watch over the railing. New York was a different character at night, and different still for this night, New Year's Eve, and he felt more at home in this comforting pitch dark and never-ending glow.

He’d been keeping a keen eye on the servers weaving in and out, grinning happily each time a hors d'oeuvres moved past. He took one here and there, happily overdoing it on the Tuna Crispy Rice things. Fucking delicious. He’d been recognised once or twice. Other martial artists he’d only met in passing years ago but his mutual followers on Instagram all the same of course. Polite handshakes, fist bumps, nods, and “see you out there” exchanged, nothing more, but it was enough to give him the confidence that he did belong here. The confidence in his cup that would no doubt be filled when Zara eventually got here.

The rooftops of all the other buildings were too beginning to fill up with people in their own celebrations and Hayden watched. He couldn't imagine climbing up on the roof of his own house but he decided he would try it. It would be a great spot to set off a firework or two if he wanted to make some noise and innocent trouble with his nephews. He smiled. Even out here, the sound was incredible. He took out his phone and balanced the base of his glass on his palm as he clumsily took a photo of the view. Probably a shit snap by the standards of the many influencers that passed and meandered around him, but Amy, Kelly, his Mam, they’d be as amazed and taken by it all as he was. For all of his earlier trepidation and nerves about this whole thing and he realised he felt more at ease now as the bass line thrummed through him. Or was it the drink? Probably both, he decided.

A heavier drop cut through the beat and the music shifted; the dancefloor went wild. Hayden remained on the Skydeck and let the cool air wash over him, savouring the sudden chaos from his distance, his phone in hand catching a quick video as it all kicked off before he snagged and inhaled another Tuna Crispy Rice while the floor was distracted. They really were delicious. That was Bobby Rifo’s music, sure as sure. People were talking about it. People were rushing in to film it themselves. To get up close and take a selfie near the legend; sucked in by the current of a dopamine rush and instant validation, a rip that beckoned. The bass thumped Hayden's chest even from outside and suddenly he was back at Glastonbury years ago on an acid drop that had almost gone sideways. With eyes closed he could feel the festival dust in his hair again and sun baked mud all up his legs and he laughed quietly at the memory, lifting the drink to his lips. He felt that same exhilaration all over again; scaled up and up and yet no less real.

He made a mental note to check out for Bobby later, preferably when this glass was empty and his confidence had set in.

Star Wars - Banshee Down

Princess Darth McFart the Hutt

Species: Twi’lek
Age: 30

Equipment:
Medical Satchel; contains various items including Bacta patches, coagulants, pain suppressants, wraps, traditional Twi'lek tools.
Diagnostic Scanner - Civilian grade, held together by tape and dreams at this point.
Vibroknife - Concealed and rarely used.
Datachips, Credit stash, cache map - Favours, whispers, and contingency funds.

Skills:
Traditional Healing & Trauma Medic - First and foremost, skills that are deeply ingrained rather than trained. A calm and nurturing touch and intuition. She can sense what is wrong before her equipment can confirm it. Training and determination for the trade later in her life has given her a more foundational knowledge and means she can rapidly stabilise real wounds through diagnosis and improvisation of what she has available.

Discretion and Trust - Both go hand in hand. People speak freely around her. She does not pry, posture, or judge. Korsu easily adjusts her speech patterns and adopts appropriate body language to blend in or disappear. She has a generally soft manner and thus can keep people calm without having to threaten.

Survivalist Stealth - Korsu knows the lay of the land of where she is. She knows when patrol routes change, and she picks up on trends quickly and knows how to fragment and pass on information effectively. You'll also never know she was there. Being thorough and meticulous for details means she can sanitise and clean up a space to avoid forensic detection.

Calm Under Pressure - Korsu can keep her wits about her in crisis situations. Threats and chaos rarely shake her focus, meaning she can function when others panic.

Weaknesses:
Physically Vulnerable / Non-Combat - Korsu can be very easily overwhelmed. She has no formal weapons training as well as minimal experience and exposure to any kind of arms. In a violent encounter, she would be reliant on others and her quick thinking to get out of there…

No Tactical Awareness - She relies on instinct over a sense of practical and lived experience of being part of a tactical team.

Avoidant of Direct Confrontation - Korsu prefers not to argue, prefers not to fight even with words and will take a subtle action and delay things rather than have a decisive and direct confrontation.

Self-Reliant - Fiercely independent and stubborn and will rarely ask for help, even if allies and resources are available.

Heavy Moral Compass - Every life she fails to save, every consequence of passed information erodes her emotional resilience over time.

Unyielding Ethical Lines - Once Korsu has decided something is wrong, she will not participate in it to a stubborn degree.

History:
For Korsu, life under the Empire was hell. She lived under two banners; scarcity and control. Born far from privilege and brought to Imperial space as a young child she spent years moving around and between labour districts and fringe settlements. Long before Imperial clinics Twi’leks relied on line healers. Keepers of anatomical knowledge, tradition, and ritualised care. Methods passed from lekku-to-lekku in the form of a communal and ancient art. The emphasis of returning to a state of calmness. Such a manner was passed to Korsu; not from a living lineage, but a broken one. Korsu does not remember her family clearly. All she has are impressions of them. Names are gone and faces blur together and whether it was through displacement, sale, or evacuation, she became separated when she was young. Just one of countless Twi’lek strays left scattered across the galaxy.

In the fringe settlements, her methods developed from spiritual instinct to actual skill in the field through practice and a willingness to learn. This was a field she learned out of necessity and a desire to keep her hands busy and stay gentle out of principle. What began as mutual aid hardened into her own oath. If she had the means to save a life, she would not choose who deserved it.

Information brokering grew naturally from her work. People tended to talk when they were tended to and when they felt they were safe, and they always were. She never sought power and influence; simply remembered what she had heard and found where it should go to have the best effect. She learned where information needed to go to prevent raids, soften crackdowns, or give a desperate family a chance to disappear before it was too late. Such whispers led her to her current path. Such whispers tested her oath eventually.

A wounded Imperial Shock Trooper left bleeding out with armour cracked and his squad, if he ever had one, gone. All gone. He was an easy target. Leaving him would have been easy. Should have been easy. Leaving him would have been justified. The Empire had taken years from her and innumerable others but when she looked into his eyes, she could not reconcile that this soldier was part of that same machine. He was just dying, and if he did then the Empire had killed him too.

It was in secret that she treated him, and it required resources she could barely afford. Still, when he happened to survive she expected him to report her, to kill her, or to disappear. He stayed. Together they draw little attention and wander through just as yet another odd pairing on a planet full of them.

Star Wars - Banshee Down

<Snipped quote by Stormyx>

That's me! Hello 👋

@Awesomoman64

Star Wars - Banshee Down

Working on a sheet to drop soon. Tagged in a buddy too who has one also and we'll play it as a team.

we've written the histories 😂