((Hey. XIII was kind enough to invite me to join this roleplay with you guys. Hope that is okay. Below will be my character's profile as well as my first post below that. Sorry if its a bit long, following posts will be shorter. I know I'm pretty much blundering into your roleplay so if there are any issues with my post, let me know and I'll edit them when necessary. Hope to have a fun time here.))
ORIGINAL PROFILE
Name: Tristan Starborn
Age: 14
Gender: Male
Species: Vulpine
Attire: Simple but finely made white and black clothing, in the style of imperial dress (ignore avatar)
Height: 5’1”
Weapons: None (for now)
Backstory: Tristan is the son of a once well-decorated Imperial officer of the Galactic Empire, High Admiral Karrath Starborn. After the death of the Emperor and fracturing of the Empire, Tristan’s father carved out the Corporate Sector of the Tingel Arm for himself, creating his own fiefdom in the process. So far from any threatening power on the furthest reaches of the Outer Rim, life in Karrath's own personal fiefdom continued in relative peace, slowly building good relations with the newly formed United Imperial Alliance until, finally, the High Admiral decided to ally himself with UIA; taking his son, Tristan, with him to Coruscant.
On the journey, while passing through the Korriban system, the High Admiral's fleet would be ambushed by Zaarin's forces, giving Karrath no choice but to do battle with Zaarin's fleet over the skies of the ancient Sith homeworld. Karrath's fleet would prove to be ill prepared to fight such a menace, however, and the High Admiral would quickly find his fleet becoming decimated; ultimately leading to the fleet's complete destruction as well as the death of the High Admiral himself.
Tristan, however, would be able to escape the battle after being forced into an escape pod. After crashing down on the surface of the Sith homeworld, Tristan would find he had few options but to explore the ruins, a desperate bid to find help and possibly a way to get off this desolate world. Whether or not he would find any there remains to be seen.
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CURRENT PROFILE
Name: Tristan Starborn
Age: 14
Gender: Male
Species: Vulpine
Attire: Simple but finely made white and black clothing, in the style of imperial dress (ignore avatar)
Height: 5’1”
Weapons: None (for now)
Powers:
> Force Intuition - The early manifestation of the Force takes many different forms for many different people, for Tristan it came in the form of Force Intuition, the ability to know things without first learning of them. This ability strikes randomly, not always for anything truly useful, and not always when convenient. Tristan's Force Intuition cannot be used on demand, relying instead on the whims of the Force.
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Fighting to stand on his own two feet as the ship rocked, blaring sirens stinging his ears and Imperial personnel running up and down the ships halls in a toxic mix of panic and desperation, Tristan pulled himself along the corridor leading up to the command ship’s bridge.
“Father!” The boy would shout, giving out a yip as the ship shudders again and he grasps onto a hand bar, pushing himself against the wall just in time to avoid one crew member barging straight into him, the ship groaning from the strain of abuse it endures as another explosion rocks the ship again, forcing the boy to grip hard on his handhold, “Father!”
The young vulpine would eventually reach the bridge with slow but steady progress, right where he knew his father would be, stepping onto the bridge it in complete chaos. Bridge hands stand at their work stations, even as the ship would rock and groan further, lights dimming and flicker ominously, each bridge hand screaming out reports coming in from across the fleet. None of this bellowing sounds good, even Tristan would know. Too many of the wrong words used, like ‘lost’ and ‘down’ and ‘outnumbered.’ The whole fleet is being decimated, and at the centre of it all trying desperately to issue commands and keep his crumbling fleet together stands the great Admiral himself, Tristan’s father.
“Father!” Tristan would shout again, finally being heard this time, if the twitch in the Admiral’s ears is anything of an indication, but another explosion, another sharp shift in the ship, and Tristan would fall to the floor right in the middle of the command bridge, his father’s eyes going wide in alarm to see his own 14 year old son right behind him on a sinking ship. Not wasting a moment, the Admiral steps away from his post and rushes to his son, helping the boy onto his feet while grabbing with no small out of frustration.
“Tristan, what are you doing here?!” The Admiral would raise his voice, both out of fear as much as stern fatherly reprimand, a frown on his face as Tristan can do nothing but meet his father’s sharp gaze, “I told you to get to the escape pods! It was stupid and reckless for you to come here! You have to get off this ship NOW!”
“No!” Tristan barked weakly back at his father, tears brimming in the boy’s eyes, “Not without you.”
“Tristan.” The Admiral would growl back at his son, his frown breaking from its stern hold on his face as his heart sinks, even as he fights to ward off his show of weakness. Another explosion, and the ship rocks again, Tristan wrapping his arms around his father and the Admiral doing, the very fact breaking his heart even more. The Admiral stands there, soaking in the moment of holding his only child one last time before the inevitable end, finally forcing Tristan away from him and looking into the boy’s eyes again with iron resolve.
“Tristan, you are getting off this ship, whether you like it or not!” He says, before he turns and summons a soldier with a gesture, a trooper in black Imperial battlearmor coming to the Admiral’s side before being given the order, “Get my son to the escapes pods, and make sure he gets off this ship! Do what you have to! That’s an order!”
“Father, no!” Tristan cries back, reaching out towards the Admiral even as his father turns away from him, but is soon stopped and grabbed by the trooper. As Tristan tries to resist, trying to go after his father, but the trooper soon overpowers the boy and drags him from the command deck, thrashings and wriggling without relent. The Admiral stands at his command post with head stooped, each cry and shout from his son worse than any blaster fire, taking all of his strength to keep himself together until, mercifully, he can hear his son no more.
The trooper would drag Tristan through the ship, throwing anyone out of the way in the process, heading to the escape pods with all haste and, once reaching the bay, throwing Tristan in a pod, the boy smacking his head against the hard metal interior of the pod and dazing him.
“You should feel lucky, kid.” The trooper grumbles, no small amount of contempt in his voice, “Your father cares enough about you to save you. Not everyone is so lucky.” With those words, the trooper seals the pod and has it launched, Tristan just about managing to slip himself into a seat and belting himself into place as the pod rumbles in its descend towards the planet, closing his teary eyes and bracing for the impact that soon follows.
Once the escape pod finally stops moving altogether, Tristan, with a spinning mind and churning stomach, manages to unfasten his seatbelts and tries to stand, failing altogether and collapsing down onto the cold metal floor of the pod with slam; a few last breaths given before he slowly but surely falls into darkness.
~~~~
Korriban. Somehow, Tristan knows this place. He stands in the Valley of the Dark Lords, a sandstorm whipping all around him, and he moves forward with purpose and determination he has never felt before. He can barely hear his footsteps over the howling winds, but it is not footsteps he is listening for, nor is it necessarily sound that he is trying to detect. He is trying to sense something… beyond sound or sight or touch.
And there!
He feels it before he ever sees it, raising his hand in instinct as several bolts of blaster fire shoot straight at him from point ahead shrouded by the storm, but all bolts are near instantly thrown back with an intricate wave of his… laser sword? He has a laser sword in his hand, glowing a sinister red, seeing only his sword in hand while his arm is covered in some kind of black armour. This moment should feel strange, but instead feels completely natural; a part of his mind knows these miraculous displays of agility and foresight and sword skill should not be possible, and, yet, such thoughts are muffled, lingering at the edges of his mind but never truly being registered. And as Tristan moves forward, he sees them; bodies, republic soldiers, the knowledge strikes him out of nowhere and yet he is unphased by it. He knows it was coming. He knows they would be here. And he knows what he is about to face out here in this storm.
Bringing his sword back to his side, Tristan moves forward again, moving further into the storm and further through the Valley, finally meeting his objective standing with their back to him. A figure, covered in long white robes that flutter violently in the wind, stands there for a moment before turning to face Tristan as he approached, a spit of laser being drawn from something out of this white robed person’s hand, forming into another laser sword but this one is a bright and pure and peaceful blue; a complete contrast to Tristan’s.
“It doesn’t have to be this way, Tristan.” A voice calls out to him, possibly from the opponent facing him, but… he cannot be sure… it is hard to know somehow, “Only you can decide your fate. Only you can choose the path you wish to follow. Choose wisely.”
~~~~
With a startle, Tristan wakes up, finding himself on the cold and hard floor of the escape pod. Slowly and weakly, Tristan pulls himself up from the floor before collapsing into the nearest seat, laying himself back and resting for a moment; the memories of that strange dream lingering in his mind. What was that all about? His mind rationalises that it must have been just being a dream. But… there was something about it that was strangely familiar… almost alluring even.
Shaking his head, and feeling the start of a terrible headache coming on while as he does so, the young vulpine looks toward the escape pod door to find that it is already wide open. The air of this planet is obviously breathable, which is good. Falling into a gas giant would have led to a very bad outcome. Pulling himself up and stumbling out of the escape pod, he would find himself in the middle of a great endless barren expanse, stretching on and on in all directions… except for a landmark that he spots behind the escape pod. Some tall human-looking statues and… what appears to be ruins, perhaps?
Looking all around him, there appears to be nowhere else to go, nothing else to find. Just howling emptiness in all other directions, with the occasional rocky formation in the far distance. With little other choice, the teenage fox is forced to push on towards the ruins, luckily only a few miles away from his crash site, needing to find… some way to get off this world or find any people that might be here, if at all possible. Ruins attract the work of archaeologists, do they not? If anyone might be here, they would be found there.
Spending an hour walking through the heavy desert sands under the scorching sun, Tristan finally manages to find his way to the ruins, finding a number of structures as well as some signs of activity here, but none recent. The structures here are mostly buried by the sands, the tops of these structures only being visible with whatever entrances there might have been hidden below. The air feels… dead here, like this place has been the site of much tragedy. Tristan isn’t sure why he thinks this, catching himself for a moment in those deductions, but the air… it’s so dry and lifeless and almost noxious to breath. The boy soon finds himself coughing and panting, pushing himself on and moving past the buried ruins to climb up a sloped pathway leading through to the bottom of some kind of canyon, the walls of which give the fox blissful relief from the punishing sun.
Stumbling through the canyon, Tristan would come across a small cave cut into the stone of the canyon wall to his right, making him stop to look down into it. Suddenly, a rush of dread would grip him, forcing him to step away from the cave and backing himself against the wall on the oppose side; but then he catches himself again. What is going on with him? He shakes his head, looking all about him, seeing that the canyon slithers on but yet the cave stands before him, an almost refreshing yet still unnerving coldness creeping out of the cave.
He does need to get somewhere cool, and find shelter as well. This cave, though hardly ideal, is about as good as he can manage right now. Gingerly, he steps forward, walking into the mouth of the cave but deciding to stop only at the entrance; not going any further than five feet into the darkness.
With nothing else to do, Tristan sits himself down against the wall the cave, his knees raised up to his face while folding his arms on top of them. And, finally, his mind turns to his father. He has tried not to of his father, Tristan knows he cannot hold himself together if he did, but the thoughts come flowing through his mind, memories of his father all throughout his life, the sickening idea that Tristan would never see him again repeating endlessly in his mind. And soon enough, the tears would flow, streaking down his muzzle and forcing whimpers out of him, Tristan burying his face against his arms and knees as he shakes in sheer despair, muffled sodding escaping him and echoing down the cave.
His father is dead. All he knew are dead. And he is all alone on this desolate world, surrounded by a darkness he does not know.
Topic: Galactic Society (Open/Lounge RP, but READ FIRST POST) (Read 256462 times)