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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Nov 23, 2019 2:10:22 GMT -5
huzzah
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Post by 𝕊’𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 on Nov 23, 2019 2:56:29 GMT -5
(Hi I’m here! It’s been busy but I should finally be able to start roleplaying soon!)
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Post by Hawkeyes258 on Nov 23, 2019 23:30:40 GMT -5
(Here and is there any battles going on or can I stick my character in Rome?)
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ℊℓоω
ɴᴏ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛᴛᴀɴᴄᴇ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛ ᴏɴ ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss
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Post by ℊℓоω on Nov 24, 2019 1:25:38 GMT -5
[ Great, guys! Just go ahead and jump in whenever you're ready. You're welcome to put your characters in an established scene (only Ghost and I have posted so far) or start your own thing c: Hawkeyes258 there aren't really any battles going on at the moment. You might want to read up on what we've done so far, just so you have an idea of that's happening, and that'll give you a better idea of where to put your characters. ]
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Nov 24, 2019 17:00:33 GMT -5
◌ LEIF ◌
ROME // early eveningThe scent of Italy was far different from that of his homeland. Leif furrowed his brow, dark blue gaze casting across the scene in front of him. There, just above the crest of the hill that lay a few feet in front of him, sat Rome in all of its glory. The sun dappled across the city’s white marble, making it seem as though Rome as aglow with power. The gaudy colors that made up the city also seemed illuminated, casting a kaleidoscopic rainbow across Leif’s gaze. He narrowed his eyes against the onslaught, lifting one gloved hand before his face to block some of the light as he continued to study the city. He was maybe a mile away from Rome’s gates, but he could almost hear the bustle and hustle of the empire’s capital. Beneath the brilliance of the city pulsed power of a different kind – the Force writhed and twisted, slithered across his skin with an inky, sticky sensation. Rome was bathed in the power of the Dark Side, and it seemed to cling to his body. Absently he brushed against his arm, trying to dislodge the feeling, but he was unsuccessful. It still stuck to him, as wispy and hard to grasp as cobwebs, but there, nonetheless. His horse shied a bit, side-stepping and pinning its ears against its skull as it tossed its head, pulling at the reins. Leif had dismounted a few moments before, to get a good look at the city, but now he was regretting it. It felt like the ground was trying to consume him; it felt like the Force was trying to reach through the earth itself to drag his soul down into the endless darkness.
For a moment he teetered, almost consumed. But then he shook it off, reminding himself why he was standing outside the seat of his enemy’s power. Former enemy, he corrected himself. Once, he joined his fellow Jedi to battle the darkness of the Roman Empire, chasing them out of the land of the Nords time and again. That was a long time ago, though. Longer than two decades it’d been since he’d been betrayed. He closed his eyes, tightened his grip on his steed’s reigns, and then began the short trek down to Rome proper. His horse jerked and protested for a moment, before relenting. Each step drew Leif closer and closer to the empire’s shining jewel, and with each step the pulsing of the dark side grew stronger, more pronounced. He focused on the soft grass beneath his boots as it gave way to worn, well-traveled cobbled stone. He focused on the sound of his horse’s hooves on the stone, trying to ignore the sticky sickness that was trying to drag him under. He may have turned from the Jedi, may have begun a different path, but he wasn’t so far gone that he’d utilize the dark side of the Force. At least, not yet. If it came down to it – if using the dark side was necessary to get his revenge, then Leif would do it. He would damn his soul if it meant he got what he wanted – what he needed. His jaw clenched at the thought before he pushed it away, when Rome’s gates yawned before him and he stepped into the city’s limits.
Most of Rome’s denizens paid him little mind, although he was clearly out of place, dressed in a dark travel cloak with clothing far better suited for colder weather. Still, it was clear Rome had seen its fair share of travelers over the centuries. He paused to study his surroundings, searching for the palace – and there it was, gaudy and brilliant and easy to spot. He turned that way and tugged on the reigns of his horse, but before he could take three steps he was stopped by a droid.
“Hey, you there!” it called, rotating to point its blaster at him. “Halt!” The other droids around it joined in with a chorus of ‘roger, roger’, circling Leif. He sighed to himself, studying the droids. “State your name!” the first one demanded, but Leif ignored it. Instead he swung the reigns back over his horse’s head.
“Halt!” the droid said again, but this time Leif turned towards it. His dark blue eyes settled on the robot and a moment seemed to pass before it realized what he was. “Jedi! Put your hands up!”
Leif did not. His right hand reached towards his belt, but before he could grab his lightsaber the first droid fired at him. He extended his left hand, drawing on the Force as he did so, and the blaster bolt stopped mid-air, buzzing and humming with destructive power. The droids seemed confused for a moment, and Leif flicked his wrist, sending the laser bullet careening back towards its origin point. The droid crumbled with a whirring noise, and the rest of the droids aimed their weapons and began to fire. With a flourish Leif withdrew his lightsaber and fired it up; his face was a glow with a brilliant blue green for a moment as he deflected the blaster shots, leaping onto the back of his horse. The animal let out a cry and burst into a full-on gallop, hooves thundering along the stone streets. Leif continued to deflect blaster shots, steering the horse towards the palace at the heart of the city. Several droids joined the original group and soon he was well and truly pursued, but he cared little. He was almost at the palace.
When he failed to deflect one blaster shot and his horse crumpled beneath him, Leif leapt, using the Force to propel himself further. He landed on the steps of the palace and rolled, slicing two droids in half as he did so. He ran through the palace, weaving through several halls as he reached out through the Force, searching for a certain signature. Darkness blazed across his awareness – there. He turned right, leapt over several droids and other guards and continued on his way.
And then he reached his destination.
Leif stared at the man in front of him, dark blue eyes studying the Roman Emperor with a wary gaze. He turned his lightsaber off and tossed it to the guards that had suddenly swarmed in to protect their emperor, but Leif didn’t want to kill the man. No, he had other plans.
“I am here to help,” Leif said, voice gruff and Latin rather rough. His gaze never wavered and never left the emperor’s face.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Nov 27, 2019 5:09:41 GMT -5
◌ C E R U L A R I U S ◌
ROME // eveningSometimes, it felt like even the most routine of tasks could not set his mind at ease. Once again, they had lost. Three ships destroyed in battle and for what? What did they have to show for it other than a collection of corpses and scars? He gritted his teeth even as he tightened the bandages around his midsection before straightening up and looking around at his men who had dwindled in numbers.
At least he had made many of the enemy's jedi decorate the beaches with their blood as well.
It was only that thought and the knowledge that the one man that mattered to him was still well and alive. Though in days like these, the buzzing of saber clashing with saber echoed persistently to an almost obnoxious degree.
He rubbed his temples even as he lingered near the back, taking count of those that remained. Cerularius was well aware that he had done his best, but sometimes that was simply not enough. There had to be better. He spared them a few words, warm and understanding despite how his blood boiled. Cerularius had never been a man of rousing speeches, but chose to command awe through small gestures and grander than life actions. Even now, he took his time to pass through those in his way with a certain degree of care.
He wove in and out from the crowd of differing senators and noblemen who had left the Emperor's house. He was in no rush.
He arrived among the other centurion before the Emperor's arrival, once again hanging in the back as he regarded the young men before him. Some were well deserved of their rank, others were green and a replacement for an equally brave and valiant combatant. Still, there were many of them who matched him in rank or even exceeded him.
Cerularius did not seek glory or renown. He was not a man who beheaded jedi for the sake of showing the enemy the true wrath of a Roman centurion. He was bound by duty and honor, by his word and his sworn duty to the emperor. And his desire to see the one man that mattered to him survive for the day his service would too come to an end.
He glanced up upon feeling through the force Emperor Lector's presence, straightening up somewhat to catch sight of him. There was sputtering, hardly becoming of an established military man in an attempt to cover up what was and could only be described as a failure. Upon hearing his name, he stepped forward, helmet under his arm and lightsaber at his side.
"My Lord," he said. He looked to the Emperor inquisitively, awaiting instructions or questions.
It was then he felt a disturbance in the force once again. There was a distinctive sound of blaster fire and he was quick to react, turning away from the Emperor in order to pull the lightsaber at his side free. He placed himself between the threat and stared at an imprudent figure he had never once before seen in his life. He was a bold one, storming into the Emperor's palace alone. And a jedi nonetheless.
He was prepared to strike, tense and poised but the stranger's words surprised him as much as his actions did. His lightsaber was thrown towards the armed guards and Cerularius simply stepped forward, not allowing him anymore opportunities.
Even if he wasn't armed with a lightsaber, a knife could do a lot of damage. So could plenty of things. Cerularius had lived a rather long life, but he could never claim that he had witnessed something like this before and all he could think was this man deserved to be punished. Still, he stayed his hand in the case Emperor Lector wished to speak to the man.
Help.
What an arrogant man.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Nov 27, 2019 6:19:05 GMT -5
gonna maybe write a starter for my duo and leave noah open for now so that i can throw him into the fray at a later time uvu
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Nov 27, 2019 8:23:50 GMT -5
◌ Yu Xingfu ◌
SOMEWHERE IN WESTERN ASIA // eveningThere was a simple code in the jinyiwei. Nobody mattered save for the Emperor. There was a reason why they poached children from their family to turn them into the most elite and merciless judge and jury to exist. He had lived by it for the longest time, until one day he had stared at the face of destruction in the eye. Killing had never been a problem. They had gotten what was coming to them for defying the Emperor's will, but it was the crumpled body of the child with blank and lifeless eyes that reminded him of the trial by fire.
Many who were enlisted to the jinyiwei never saw the light of day again past the tender age of five. He was one of the lucky ones.
But this child had died because of the actions of his parents. Not his own inaction in combat or fear. And as long as they had took to instill the values they had in him, Xingfu knew what he was looking at. Violence for the sake of violence, he wasn't even certain if it was worth it. It had not been his call to make.
He remembered that night well, staring into the cold apathetic eyes of Zhang Wei. They had spoken for a long time, the cold bitter air not bothering either one of them. There was another job coming soon, but this was their downtime and he was told to spend it well. For the longest time they had contended for the spot of top brass in the jinyiwei. He had always came second to Wei. But not tonight. There was a silence that fell over them the moment their eyes met. He fell silent. So did Wei.
It was over in the blink of an eye, their hands touched their lightsabers and then Wei was slumped on the ground in a pool of his blood. He had grabbed a horse from the stables and rode off into the night on it. Not once looking back.
That was how he had ended up here in the first place.
Somehow he had found a home. Or something similar to it, in his opinion. He glanced over at his traveling companion who looked tired or worried. Or some mixture of the two. He could feel it in the ebb and flow of the force, the tension that befell the man even as he looked forward with a resolute expression. He walked beside the ronin, his daughter seated atop his steed.
They had also came a long way from home. He knew they came from Japan. The man had a set of armor, worn but well kept. It was beautiful, worthy of a samurai but he said he was no longer worthy of that title. He didn't wear it, choosing instead to wear a travelling kimono that gave him a less eye catching profile and a lighter bounce in his step. Xingfu had done the same. After traveling for days that turned into weeks... it was best not to catch the eyes of those who went looking for them.
Every time a space ship flew over head it was easy for words like bounty hunter or trackers to enter the mind. But at some point, he had stopped caring. He had never been afraid of death. In his way of life, it was inevitable. It was the only absolute.
But looking at the father and daughter, he felt something he had never felt before. He wanted to protect them. For what reasons, he could not elaborate, but they were good and kind people. Like the Lee family who had looked upon his jinyiwei uniform with horror in their eyes. Even as his blood dripped to the floor, he wondered that night if he would have to slaughter more people. But they took him in. Tended to his wounds and sent the jinyiwei the opposite direction and bid him farewell.
He gave them what he could spare. It was the first time he could remember kindness of that sort and Isao and Tenshi embodied that same spirit. One he wished he could share. One he sought to understand from the jedi of the shaolin temples. They had given him sparse teachings and offered him a place to stay, but it felt wrong.
So he left.
Maybe for a good reason too. Here, he had a sense of purpose. Here he belonged. So all he could do was keep his guard up. If a bounty hunter closed in on them he would make them pay. He might have renounced his sith ways, but he still had the scars to show and he nobody would get in his way. Of that, he was certain.
They were headed in towards where they were needed. They were wandering swordsmen now, just blades for hire. He had learned that neither he nor Isao had any real experience tending to crops or doing any manual laborer outside of carrying baggage. They needed money and were not beyond a simple bodyguard trip here and there or clearing out bandits for a meal.
It would have been easier had he been alone, but Xingfu didn't want that. Not anymore.
There was talk that if they traveled northwest, they would reach a jedi sanctuary in need of warriors. It was there that Isao believed his daughter would be safe from harm. It was there their blades would be once again brandished for a cause. He could only hope it was for the right reasons this time.
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Post by Hawkeyes258 on Nov 27, 2019 19:54:55 GMT -5
Rome Evening Marcus listened in as some soldiers recounted about what had happened up north. He listened intently before shaking his head. If he and his legion had been allowed to go, he was certain things would have been different. Marcus leaned back a little in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Curse the Jedi and their little allies. He heard many stories about the vikings up north. Mostly that they were savages and were grossly hairy. Yet, they were giving the Roman navy a run for their money.
Marcus shakes his head once the men finished talking. "Hope whoever decided this comes to his senses and fixes their mistakes." He mutters to himself. He wanted to be out in the field taking the fight to the Jedi. He and his legion had been confined here training new recruits and awaiting orders. His fingers brush against his light saber, he hadn't used it in a while least not to kill anything.
Despite everything, he had to be patient. Last thing he wanted to do was overstep his boundaries. Marcus knew the higher ups were not people you wanted to anger. For now, he must bind his time and become stronger. Marcus smiles a bit knowing that one day this would all pay off. One day, he would be told to children stories and have statues to commemorate him.
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Nov 28, 2019 0:31:33 GMT -5
i thought y'all would like bad north's ost. it's real dope, makes me wanna make a viking oc now smfh
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Post by L’Éᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ on Nov 28, 2019 1:33:20 GMT -5
Ahaha, but I had a plan to make an alien oc, wouldn't want too many... tho I am in dire need of a new ginger boi ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
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Post by 𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖊 on Nov 28, 2019 18:59:33 GMT -5
◌ SAGA SIGURðARDÓTTIR ◌
NORWAY // early evening“So I’m supposed to believe they all just got away?” Henrik was growling, voice rough and low like that of a wolf. Saga sighed and pinched the bridge her nose, trying to reach for that vaunted Jedi calm. This was going to be a lot worse than she thought, and she hadn’t even entered the room quite yet. Henrik continued his rant, voice racing in pitch and volume with each passing moment. “We could have cost them many more ships if but one of you displayed some valor! We are Vikings! Not pitiful babes pawing at their mother’s skirts!” Henrik only stopped speaking when a violent coughing fit cut him off, and Saga took that moment to enter the room and give her report. Henrik, however, was less than pleased.
When he caught sight of her, his face twisted into something terrible, coated with disgust. “Another one comes crawling back within nothing to show of the struggle. Girl, where is the blood you shed for your chieftain? Point out to me the wounds you sustained in battle. Now! I’m waiting!” Saga’s silver-blue eyes studied Henrik’s for a moment, watching as he grew increasingly more chaotic and red. Saga took a deep breath to calm herself before she spoke. She had quite the temper, but she’d been attempting to reign it in over the past few months. It wouldn’t do her any help in dealing with Henrik, after all.
“If you want blood,” Saga began, speaking slowly and choosing her words carefully, “then go and find the smoldering remains of the Empire’s ships. You’re sure to find the blood of our enemies soaking the ground there. Your people have bled and shed blood for you, and the evidence of such lies spread along the battlefield, where Odin’s Valkyries now roam, searching for new warriors.” Henrik clearly didn’t care, however, because the anger building on his face only intensified. His daughter, Signy, was knelt beside his throne, hand gripping her father’s forearm. Signy was clearly trying to placate her father, but she wasn’t having much success. She murmured something to Henrik that Saga didn’t catch, but the old man visible flinched in response, tearing his arm from his daughter’s grip.
“Confiscate their ships,” Henrik snapped. “These cowards are useless to me.” As soon as those words reached Saga’s ears, she went deathly still. The guards approached the three pilots knelt in front of her, demanding their keys, and the stunned men handed them over almost robotically. Someone came up to Saga with the same request, but when Saga settled her silver-blue gaze on that guard, the man saw something beyond description in the young woman’s gaze and he backed off a bit, though he shakily repeated Henrik’s demand. Saga didn’t move, and she didn’t blink; her unwavering stare bored into the guard with such intensity it was a wonder he didn’t burst into flame.
“Father!” Signy cried, “that’s unfair! Call them off. Please.” Henrik just glared at his daughter and snarled something, ordering everyone out of the room. Saga still did not move, and still had not handed her keys over. At that point, the other guards had also surrounded her in an attempt to intimidate her into submission. It didn’t work, and Saga turned her gaze to Henrik, silver-blue eyes seeming to glow with an ire so cold that it burned. She looked up on Henrik – really looked upon him – for the first time in many, many moons. Henrik’s face was red and splotchy; his chest rose and fell rapidly with raspy breaths, and he was slightly hunched over, wispy hair hanging loosely in his face. Settled on his lap was countless blankets, and for the first time Saga saw Henrik for what he was: a tired old man who’d long ago lost all sense of honor. Where once strength and valor had thrived, hatred and anger and illness had settled in.
She’d looked up to Henrik once. He’d been the one chief who accepted an orphaned child, after her mother and father had been murdered. He’d tried to find the one responsible, but he’d never been able to. A younger couple in the clan had adopted Saga and she’d been raised on the stories of Henrik’s valor and adventures. For many years now she’d turned a blind eye as Henrik had changed, but she could do so no longer. Henrik wanted to take away the last thing that Saga had connecting her to her family. It had been her father’s ship, as she had been told, and so it had been passed to her when she was old enough. That was Saga’s most valued possession, and she would remove her own hand with her own lightsaber before she handed it over.
Saga’s icy gaze seemed to intensify, as if she could freeze Henrik in cold flame where he sat. “I looked up to you, once,” she told him, voice dangerously soft. It made it clear that Henrik had crossed a line he never should’ve, and that the guards surrounding her were excruciatingly close to doing the same. Her famous temper flared to life. With sheer willpower she managed to keep herself from reaching for her lightsaber and launching herself across the room to wipe Henrik from the history books. “You took me in after my parents’ murder, accepted me as a clan member, trained me as a warrior, a Jedi, a fighter. You were a hero to me, once.” She took a step forward, curling her lip back in a feral smile. “And yet, after I fought for you, after I killed men for you, you sit upon your throne and dare to spit on my honor. You dare to spit on my valor. You dare to spit on my loyalty.”
Saga withdrew her lightsaber and ignited it; her face was lit with a silver-white glow. “I will kill you where you sit, useless, before I let you take my ship from me.” There was a moment of shocked silence, before Saga spoke again. “I, Saga Sigurðardóttir, stand before you, Henrik Fargrim, to renounce my loyalty to this clan. In the eyes of gods and man, with Odin as my witness, I renounce all claims that tie me to this clan. May you never reach Valhalla. May Odin never look upon you and grant you his favor. May you rot in the depths of Helheim.” She sheathed her lightsaber and spun around, stalking out of the longhouse. Henrik be damned.
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