Tracyarmav

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-168

Men vs. Women Race to 1000: Version 2.0

-168

The Sisters of the Dying Branch

Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Name: Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Gender / Preferred Pronouns: Male/He.

Age: 17

Birthday: 05/18

Sexuality: Straight

Appearance: 5'2" tall, he's a bit under average height. His slim, wiry frame put him under average weight as well… a measly 98 lbs; though it's not for lack of consumption. His fair skin is smooth, and soft, a point of some mockery. Though his hands are calloused and scarred from working in the woods from a young age. His eyes, a vibrant green, are intense and seem to stare into you as much as at you should you draw his undivided attention.

He usually wears jeans, hiking boots, a t-shirt and a utility vest. When hunting it's usually with a longbow, but sometimes he'll use a breech-loading double barrel shotgun. Otherwise, he relies on an assortment of tools tucked into the various pockets and pouches he wears. These include pliers, pocket knives, a hatchet, a lighter, a spool of thread, two needles, and an assortment of enchanted tools and trinkets.

Personality: A quiet soul, he avoids making loud noises in everything he does and says. He's often told to speak up, when talking with elders; his soft, low voice blending easily with the noise of day-to-day life at the Coven. He spends a lot of time lost in thought, considering implications of the day's lessons. Though, even when deep in thought he seems dimly aware of his surroundings, walking around obstacles and dodging stray balls at the last possible moment with the least amount of effort. He loves to read, hunt, and trade witty banter with friends.

He moves with the lethal grace of a predator. His small frame and thin limbs hide wiry strength, endurance and speed. He usually moves very carefully, slowly, deliberately. So when he decides to move with haste, it's often surprising just how swiftly he can move. He is a hard worker, honest, and kind. He gives everyone a chance to prove their character. Those who delight in deceit, malice, or arrogance he scorns openly. Most others he tolerates so long as they don't try to twist him to their own designs.

Biography: Born and raised in the coven, by parents and elders alike. He has shown particular talent in herbs, enchantments and healing. He studies magic with the elders most weekends.

His father died five years ago. But Uaithne still hunts and practices the bow as his father taught him. He can follow the stars home from anywhere on the globe, he can track large game by starlight. And he carries his father's courage in his heart.

His mother threw herself into her work for the coven, to help her cope with the grief of losing her husband. So Uaithne lives in the coven house, since his mom is often away on business. He doesn't mind, and seems to get along with most of the other kids there. He sometimes spends an afternoon teaching the youngsters games that help them build useful skills, particularly awareness.

His family comes from all over, northern Europe and even has some relatively recent additions of native American blood. His family history has never been all that special or important to the coven. It's not always been good either. It's part of why the family is so dedicated to healing now. Uaithne's mother, Maribelle, and his great aunt Brigid both serve the coven today.

The house his father had bought remains in the family, though it is unused at present. His mother and great aunt have considered selling it, but just haven't gotten around to it for a variety of reasons. Perhaps Uaithne will inherit the house, when he's ready. Though he has all but forgotten about the house himself.

Notable Rumors: A friend of Monsters; how else could he be so quiet even while running through the woods at night?
Goody-two-shoes; doesn't do stupid stunts or pranks. Also disregards most peer pressure with ease.

Greatest Fear: failure, a mistake that forever ruins a life or the coven.

Magic: Healing, poisons, and enchantments are his strengths/preferred magic studies. He is reasonably proficient in energy and projectile defense, potions, illusion, and enhancement. He is particularly challenged by charms(compulsion), fire, lightning, clairvoyance, and comprehension spells(speak with X)

Other: Is looking forward to his first mission for the coven. He feels certain that his initiation will go well. He has a lot to offer, and it's a family tradition. He hopes everyone can pass this year, but suspects that's unlikely. He's also sizing up potential female intimates to try and rule out obviously incompatible personalities… he'll worry about approaching potential matches after initiation is over.

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The Sisters of the Dying Branch

Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Name: Uaithne Cináed Fearghal Orvar

Gender / Preferred Pronouns: Male/He.

Age: 17

Birthday: 05/18

Sexuality: Straight

Appearance: 5'2" tall, he's a bit under average height. His slim, wiry frame put him under average weight as well… a measly 98 lbs; though it's not for lack of consumption. His fair skin is smooth, and soft, a point of some mockery. Though his hands are calloused and scarred from working in the woods from a young age. His eyes, a vibrant green, are intense and seem to stare into you as much as at you should you draw his undivided attention.

He usually wears jeans, hiking boots, a t-shirt and a utility vest. When hunting it's usually with a longbow, but sometimes he'll use a breech-loading double barrel shotgun. Otherwise, he relies on an assortment of tools tucked into the various pockets and pouches he wears. These include pliers, pocket knives, a hatchet, a lighter, a spool of thread, two needles, and an assortment of enchanted tools and trinkets.

Personality: A quiet soul, he avoids making loud noises in everything he does and says. He's often told to speak up, when talking with elders his soft, low voice blending easily with the noise of day-to-day life at the Coven. He spends a lot of time lost in thought, considering implications of the day's lessons. Though, even when deep in thought he seems dimly aware of his surroundings, walking around obstacles and dodging stray balls at the last possible moment with the least amount of effort. He loves to read and hunt. He usually reads in the afternoons and hunts at dusk or dawn.

He moves with the lethal grace of a predator. His small frame and thin limbs hide wiry strength, endurance and speed. He usually moves very carefully, slowly, deliberately. So when he decides to move with haste, it's often surprising just how swiftly he can move. He is a hard worker, honest, and kind. He gives everyone a chance to prove their character. Those who delight in deceit, malice, or arrogance he scorns openly. Most others he tolerates so long as they don't try to twist him to their own designs.

Biography: Born and raised in the coven, by parents and elders alike. He has shown particular talent in herbs, potions, and healing. He studies magic with the elders most weekends.

His father died five years ago. But Uaithne still hunts and practices the bow as his father taught him. He can follow the stars home from anywhere on the globe, he can track large game by starlight. And he carries his father's courage in his heart.

His family comes from all over, northern Europe and even has some relatively recent additions of native American blood. His family history has never been all that special or important to the coven. It's not always been good either. It's part of why the family is so dedicated to healing now. Uaithne's mother, Maribelle, and his great aunt Brigid both serve the coven today.

Notable Rumors:
A friend of Monsters; how else could he be so quiet even while running through the woods at night?
Goody-two-shoes; doesn't do stupid stunts or pranks. Also disregards most peer pressure with ease.

Greatest Fear: failure, a mistake that forever ruins a life or the coven.

Magic: Healing, Potions, and Enchantments are his strengths/preferred magic studies. He is reasonably proficient in defense, illusion, and energy transfer attacks. He is particularly challenged by charms, fire, lightning, clairvoyance, shape shifting and comprehension spells(speak with X)

Other: Is looking forward to his first mission for the coven. He feels certain that his initiation will go well. He has a lot to offer, and it's a family tradition. He hopes everyone can pass this year, but suspects that's unlikely. He's also sizing up female intimates to try and rule out obviously incompatible personalities… he'll worry about approaching potential matches after initiation is over.

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The Sisters of the Dying Branch - A Witch Coven RP

But can witches get turned? Or are they "incompatible" with the virus/disease and just become ill/die when infected?

The Sisters of the Dying Branch - A Witch Coven RP

I will happily sacrifice Erkan for this RP... Oh wait... I think I did that backwards, since Erkan's the one with magic... Oooops. 😛🤣

Seriously, I'm willing to bring Erkan or start a less problematic character, whichever you desire.

Star Wars: The Harbor's Due

Smugglers will use any freighter. The CEC models are particularly popular, because they are easy to modify to suit a captain's tastes. In this era, YT-2400 is one of the newer ships on the market. While the YT-1300 is probably the most common.

Star Wars: The Harbor's Due

Buurenaar D'ordinii

---

Buure felt surprise wash over him. He'd not expected to hear such familiar words from the stowaway. He wasn't given time to respond, however as things continued to escalate. He noticed the arrival of another rifle bearing crewman at the entrance, followed by ... a golden drop of sun, though he wondered if she meant to befriend the stowaway or burn her. Sena turned on the lights, which did nothing for Buure beyond altering an indicator on the edge of his HUD. The Twi'lek immediately tore something from her eye, and Buure noted that low light visibility was probably how most of the crew were navigating the darkened hold.

Why would an ally blind her friends? or does this one hate her crew-mates? No, her posturing is off for that. For all intents and purposes she genuinely seemed to be trying to help... so she is a fool then. Buure appended a note to that affect to her signature on his sensory inputs. She would be a danger to friend and foe alike and that meant extra precautions would need to be taken when she was around. Airus arrived next and made gentle enough introductions, so it seemed the stowaway was not a threat and would be treated respectably after-all. A point of interest, and something to be noted for future stowaway encounters.

As the Twi'ek's companion made noise, a text translation scrolled along the bottom of his HUD, and he decided the droid was a good one. When Brin named herself he amended his senor logs appropriately, and stepped out of the way. If the situation wasn't already so tense, Buure would have offered the woman a proper greeting. Instead he settled for a sincere apology, accompanied by a dip of his helmeted head. He'd save the proper greeting for after the interrogation.

"N'eparavu takisit vod." [Sorry sister]

Star Wars: The Harbor's Due

Buurenaar D'ordinii

---

Buurenaar, often shortened to Buure [boo-REY], by those familiar with his work. He's never seemed to care what he's called. No one who knows him well enough to tell is willing to share. In all honesty, the few who knew were probably in a much darker region of the galaxy working hard to help the aliit prosper. Buure had been tasked with a different job, and though it was a lonely existence, he didn't mind. He was able to communicate via recorded data packets, though they were slow to reach their recipient at times. It was a comfort of it's own to simply know that he would be reunited with them eventually, even if only in Manda. He finished stowing his gear in his locker, as he read the latest such message. His podmates had just finished an underwater salvage. It had been fairly straight forward, though local wildlife had proven particularly... entertaining.

He felt proud of his siblings, and was pleased that their prowess and skill was both acknowledged and put to good use. He headed towards the cargo hold to check on the last of his gear. It was a personal submersible, and he wanted to be sure it was stowed and secured properly. Aruetii rarely cared for their gear properly, in his experience. He hadn't linked his comm to the ship's system yet, so the call about a stow away was missed completely. He thought he saw one of the crew rushing towards the hold, but he wasn't sure. He continued on his way, unhurried since there wasn't an alarm.

He arrived, and stepped into a dark hold, which seemed odd but was in no way uncomfortable to him. His visor showed him everything in dim outlines. Line of sight was no limitation for him at all, since his beskar'gam made use of something akin to echo-location in addition to thermal imaging, low light filter, and a mass spectrometer. He could see through most of the cargo canisters both inside and behind them, though inside took focus. He let his gaze sweep across the room, though it paused on a couple of beings towards the back. A moment later the shape of another crouched in front of them became apparent, and Buure moved towards them. He kept his pace measured and a tad brisk, his boots hitting the deck with force enough to be heard clearly by everyone in the room. He paused, taking note of the positions of those in front of him. It would seem a stowaway had been caught. This could get bad fast, stowaways were often desperate beings. Nothing is more dangerous than a cornered and desperate being, as there is no plan that it won't consider at least once.

Buure tried not to interrupt and he kept his hands visible and empty. He wanted to stand witness, and was actively recording everything his suit could detect as the events might come into question later. He was several paces from them stowaway and the two crew men confronting her. He said a single word, in basic and in huttese, since that was an often used trade language in the outer rim: "Problem?"

Star Wars: The Harbor's Due

Buurenaar

Kyr'ad gotal'ur.

| {Full Name} |

Buurenaar D'ordinii

| {Age} |

036

| {Species} |

Selkath

| {Gender} |

Male

---

| {Force Sensitive/Alignment} |

No

| Role on Ship |

CQC, Marine pursuits.

| {Appearance} |

His Beskar'gam is colored to blend into marine environs, and is teal along the front with a darker grey/brown under a light blue pattern to mimic light patterns on an ocean or lake floor. He can change the appearance if given a few hours to apply a new scheme, but always returns to this pattern. He stands 1.34 meters tall in his armor. His helmet crafted to fit his physique and he often strokes the armor over his cephalic lobes when thinking a problem through.

| {Equipment and Personal Belongings} |

A lot. Beskar'gam, modified for marine use. Sensors are visual, sonic(including echolocation), and thermal based.Instead of a jet pack, he has an air tank and several retracting propulsion units. He always carries a bes'kad and kal, both sheathed in the harness for his pack. Out of water, he prefers to use an LJ-50 concussion rifle with an electric bayonet, and a power hammer for heavily armored targets including most light vehicles. In water, fresh or saline, he uses a sporting harpoon launcher of Quarren design and his blades. In both settings he's fond of using chemical grenades, or mines depending on desired payload, to incapacitate anyone who more valuable alive than dead. He owns the Devilfish submersible in the ship's cargo-hold, and uses it to traverse marine environs with haste.

| {Physical Abilities} |

Manda. Well versed in unarmed combat, and the use of his beskad and kal both on land and in water. Qualifes as a marksman out to three hundred meters with most rifles on land; and one hundred meters underwater. He is trained in basic tactical movements in small groups, and has some experience working with the looser "crews" of the outer rim. As a Selkath he finds navigating waterways, be they rivers or oceans or anything between, instinctively simple. He's adept at reading and sketching detailed maps of any area he's been through. He is also able to infer topographical details from two dimensional sensor feeds, though he much prefers a solid recon to to such primitive attempts.

| {Force Abilities} |

Not applicable.

| {Limitations} |

Does not deal well with arid or tundra climates, when outside of his beskar'gam. Not a social creature, his communication is often ... brutally blunt. A jaded soul, collateral damage is not a concern for him. Has no sense of decor or fashion, everything fits a practical purpose or is discarded. May exhibit selective hearing, from time to time.

---

| {Personality} |

Clever, sharp wit, bit of a smart ass as often as not. Still gets the job done with pride and professionalism. His personality is somewhat fluid, adapting to the needs of those around him.

| {Place of Origin} |

A small moon in the outer rim, records indicate the Lipsec system as his birth system.

| {Background} |

A soldier of fortune, he goes where the credits call. He's never broken a contract, or his word. His word is as binding any legal document to him. He was raised by his parents, both active Mandolorians. One served the system defense force and taught Buure most everything he knows about fighting. The other was a farmer of sorts, helping manage one of the larger brine hatcheries on his birth world. He's never been to Manaan, and isn't related to those Selkath by many generations. His ancestors were enslaved by the Rakatan Empire, which later collapsed and forgot the slave camp that housed his ancestors. Later his ancestors witnessed the wreck of a mandolorian dreadnought. Some of the crew survived and shared their culture and skills with the locals. Buure is the product of one of this series of unfortunate events.

Striking out on his own, at the age of 23, he was moving through the stars doing odd jobs here and there. seemingly wandering the galaxy aimlessly. As long he had a job lined up, he was happy. He's been on hunts, collected Imperial Bounties, played guard for a series of merchants and thugs in the Outer Rim.

He occasionally reaches out to his clan, and does some work for them. That usually involves simple information gathering, sometimes a light recon. Once it even included inserting a small fire-team, via a convoluted series of waterways with strong currents and very little room for error. That had been tough, but it had been successful. He still doesn't know what their objective was, only that his part of the mission went smoothly. Another time he was being contracted to hunt for some small resort owner on Auqilaris, a crude ge'hutuun of a man, who was proud of his "pets" though Buure would have called them slaves. Buurenaar finished the contract, dealing with Demonsquid that had moved in a tad too close to the resort for the business to run smoothly. He took his payment and left, then compiled a file of all the data he'd collected at the resort. Including the sensor reading of his beskar'gam, maps of the local shore and sea floor, lists of personnel and equipment in use, everything he had. Once in orbit of the planet, he coded the file, flagged it appropriately, and sent it to his contact for official clan business.

D'ordinii does not now, nor will it ever condone slavery, organic or droid. The response was quick, and very precise. A month later the resort closed; the owner vanished, suspected dead. His staff had torn the place up arguing over who would take over, and the local officials stepped in to take over and clean up. The mans pets were also gone. Though no one was certain what had happened to them.

It was a standing black op that few in the clan knew of, much less the galaxy at large. Slavers and ring leaders died, thugs woke up with something akin to a hang over and no memory of what had happened. Slaves vanished. They were given transport to a refuge system, and given new identities, with with enough cash to get a job and start a new life. If any requested it, they would be permitted to join the clan. Those were given jobs that insulated them from the rest of the galaxy until they got readjusted.

Buurenaar however knew only what the rest of the galaxy was privy too, the man had been dealt with. He had an idea of what happened to the slaves, but couldn't even begin to try and prove it if he'd wanted to. Though when he joined the crew his HUD flagged one being as familiar, noting the number of times it had been detected by the sensors in his beskar'gam and the % match to previous scans. The only other data he had was when the being was last detected, and it took him some time to put the pieces together. Having put the clan out to save her once, he's decided to do his part guarantee a brighter future for her.

But this chance meeting was relatively recent, just days ago. Wandering through the Anchorage after his last job, a messy triple cross that never paid out, he decided to find more... stable work. He heard that someone called the Mariner was taking on new crew. Given his own marine nature, he was looking forward to meeting the individual. He was granted an interview and made his way to the directed co-ordinates.

He was... disappointed, when he met her at last. She appeared human, and utterly unfamiliar with the open waves at first glance. Still, she was clearly dangerous in her own right and no fool, given her armor. Something brought to mind the ancient tale of Sirens, beings that called spacers to their own demise with some lure or another, usually beauty. Buure noted that many males would find her attractive, but well... being Selkath he was looking for a very different profile. She was professional though, so he decided he'd take the job if offered. It was not terribly surprising to find that he did get an offer. Mandolorians had a reputation of being excellent warriors and hunters after all; and he wasn't asking for excessive compensation. She'd not easily find a better deal than he was offering, in the market of expert labor.