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Sakie

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Had Hirani the ability to speak it aloud, it seemed her question might've hung in the air awhile. (Or perhaps hung in the bacta for these purposes.) Her new Jedi acquaintance came across as taken aback at first, before a moment passed and a look of something approaching understanding grew on her face. The question still probed at Hirani of course, and the longer the answer was delayed, the more her concern grew. Had no one else survived? What of her master, Master Goordayr—what of the woman she'd come to see as her mother? The other padawans? And what of Grandmaster Boan, that blaze of calm fire in the force which now seemed so distant and dim? All these questions and many more naturally bubbled out of the first, but she didn't rush to ask them.

Then, her new friend placed a hand on the glass separating them. In a strange way, this calmed Hirani. Looking out at a fellow Jedi—appearing to be of a similar people to her Zabrak Master no less—speaking to one another in the silent language of the Force... for a moment, everything seemed as it always was. For a moment, it was as though Ajan Kloss never happened, like a strange night terror that had no bearing on what was real. The padawan took hold of that moment, tight.

"Welcome back, friend.” Her muffled voice even warmed the quiet after the words themselves passed. And it was indeed quiet—through the liquid, she could hear only the patter of control panel noise, and the washed heaving of oxygen in and out of her mask. Another pause lent the Jedi's next words a deserved severity.

“Padawan...you’ve been in a coma. It’s...it’s been nearly a decade.”

Oh. A decade. Ten years. Almost twice her entire conscious life.

The bacta tank. The rebreather. The welcome back. That made sense.

But none of it made sense. Panic was setting in for Hirani once again.

There's no way... I, I surely...

Again her thoughts began to roll away from her, until something Master Goordayr once said rippled out from the corners of her memory.

Take care of your breathing, little one. The Force is as that very breath. It is as quiet, as ever-present, as vital. Because it is always with you, you are bound to forget it's there sometimes, but try to remember when you remember. To breathe, Hirani.

Slowly, she inhaled, and she exhaled. The Jedi outside the tank seemed to say something, but Hirani didn't hear it over the noise of the rebreather. The blue wetness clinging to her skin seemed to thin, as her connection to the Force remembered itself, as did the precision of her breath, in spite of the flushes of anxiety which threatened to overwhelm her. Only then did she realise the liquid was actually moving, the draining process beginning. Hirani's feet eventually set down in the bottom of the tank, the full weight of her own body coming down onto her legs gradually, as the fluid left. She struggled to stand, and had to lean most of her weight against the glass. Now that the tank was empty, though, she
could discard her rebreather, and hearing became significantly less difficult.

“Hold out your arms. This won’t hurt.”

Hirani nodded, and did as she was told automatically. Although strange and uncomfortable, being lifted out of the tank by the retrieval droid was the least of her worries at that time. "Nearly a decade" still stung in the back of her mind, no matter her attempts to assuage it, to try not to think about it's impossible implications. Once she was set down, she was finally able to get a good look at the first person she laid eyes on after waking up.

The other Jedi spoke.

“My name is Raz Citlali. You are on Yavin IV; I’ll alert the others to your awakening."

Yavin IV. The others. So Yavin IV is still safe for Jedi. Yavin IV. But... not Ajan Kloss? Not the world that had been her home for so many years? Where else had the Sith taken? Ryloth? She almost forgot to respond to Rav Citlali, but the silence was loud enough to quickly remind her.

[OOC: arni, short form of arni'soyacho, is Twi'leki slang similar to 'thank you'—i forgot how to do the hover-over-text thingy in bbcode lol.]

"Raz Citlali arni. One name of many my mother gave me is Iko Rssa'hiran." Her gratitude sincere, the Twi'lek gave a smile, unable to summon the strength to hide it's difficulty. Her body was shaking, unsure if from the cold, or something else like shock. She hoped talking might ease it. "But that is too formal. Twi'leks from Ryloth like myself do not differentiate given and family names much at all—in most cases, your given name is so enmeshed in your family's name that they disappear into one another. Twi'lek identity has always been about family in that way. But those I know by blood all died when I was terribly small, and my second family, they all—" Ajan Kloss flickered in her treasured memories, glowing, lively as moon-stained bonfire, "—my friends all knew me only as Hirani."

Despite her attempts to push them back, slim pools of glitter water lined the cups of her eyes. It seemed as if full-blown tears were inevitable.

And at that god-awfully-timed moment (at least as far as Hirani's ego was concerned) a quizzical-faced creature appeared in the doorway, rather too quickly to be among those Raz Citlali had only just alerted. "What's going on?" was what she'd blurted out the split second after her appearance, and instead of breaking down, Hirani composed a chuckle, her tears disappearing into the expression of amusement. The situation felt so ridiculous that giggling about it, although bittersweet, felt like something that helped her get a handle of herself. It seemed to work, as her shaking too was lost in the confused convulsion of her lungs.

What's going on? I just woke up from a ten-year sleep, I don't know anything about the galaxy as it is right now, and I think I'm having my mid-life crisis before my twenties. What's going on with you?

Hirani wiped away the wet from her eyes with a wrist and, through some deliberation, sat down cross-legged on the floor. She would have to try to walk later, but for now she just wanted to try to catch up on... everything. That said, it seemed clear to her that the new girl's question was directed more at Raz, so she let the other Jedi respond, and kept the source of her earlier humour to herself.

Once Raz had explained the situation to the newcomer, Hirani would introduce herself.

"It's nice to meet you. Really you're the first other padawan I've met since waking up here, and the first padawan I've met in almost ten years, I guess, so that must mean something, right? Maybe the Force wanted us to meet." Hirani smiled, and this time it wasn't so difficult. Somehow the new girl radiated an infectious innocence even in the first few moments of having met each other. But it was more than that. It was more than that.

Maybe, Hirani thought to herself, I'll be okay, if only for today.
 
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Sakie

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For example, instead of saying "John is evil." you can show how he is evil by saying "John has burned down multiple villages, leaving no survivors; women and children were not spared.

Whew. I went a little overboard on this reply... ':) It's turned out as more of my own How To Writing guide (on the topic of Show, don't Tell) than an actual reply to be honest, so I might make my own thread on this if anyone is interested in hearing me go on and on about the intricacies of writing technique.

----

I agree, Show, don't tell is a super important writing tip. But it actually goes on level deeper than how you described it, I think. Anton Chekhov is famously (however incorrectly) quoted as saying, "Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass," which is a cool way of putting it. In your example, you're describing what John has done, you're not actually showing him doing it, you know? That adds a whole extra layer of immersion to anyone's writing.

I'll use a different example of four levels of showing vs. telling, with accompanying commentary for anyone who cares, lol:
  1. Boba Fett was an bounty hunter with a fierce reputation, infamous across the galaxy for his ruthlessness and cunning. -- This may sound kinda cool, but it's just telling, and as sayso has pointed out, this will really clog up your writing if overused. Now, telling is okay in some circumstances, but if you want your writing to read more like a novel, it should ideally be the exception rather than the rule. That said, I think telling is generally fine in RP, unless you want your writing to really stand out and be more fun to read.
  • Darth Vader stopped pacing to gesture at Boba Fett: "No disintegrations." - This (specifically the latter bit) is exposition, which basically just means showing information through dialogue. Contrary to popular belief among writers, exposition is not itself a bad thing... it's just very easy to write exposition poorly. Try to avoid making it obvious that you're trying to tell the reader something, especially something that the characters wouldn't realistically, explicitly, say. (Dialogue is far more interesting when two characters weave their way around something that is implicit instead, for example, but that is a whole other topic to cover.) However, if you make exposition both realistic and surprising or interesting in some way, like in this example, then it doesn't feel like an infodump and keeps the reader's interest... and makes everyone know Boba Fett is a badass without anyone having to say that explicitly.
 

Sakie

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Clan Korssa pre-TL version backup



HwTcBf9.jpg

________________________________________________________________



h o u s e



K O r s s A



___________________________________________________





t a b l e o f c o n t e n t s



History

Ancient Origins

Fleeing Mandalore

Arrival on Ryloth






Culture

Introduction

People

Traditions

Languages






______________________________________







h i s t o r y

______________________________________





Aliit Ori'shyaTal'din.

F a m i l y B e f o r e B l o o d

Originally rising seven Standard Years before the First Battle of Shogun, Clan Korssa was at the speartip of the movement that began to morph the Mandalorians into a true, galaxy-spanning culture, those many thousands of years ago. It's name can be traced back to the clan's first, and only, Alor: a Twi'lek raised on Mandalore (one of the first of his kind) by the name of Khy'n Korssa, who fought for his place as a Mandalorian against any who dared challenge him. Under his guidance, a clan of non-humans with hearts of Mandalorians earned a very small position on the Mandalorian council. In this, his grand vision was reinforced: to give anyone, no matter the species, the chance to earn their Iron Skin through acts of true valour, bravery, and great sacrifice for the good of others. Of this dream, Clan Korssa was borne.

Especially given it's non-human founder, Clan Korssa grew infamous (and widely despised by some) for it's acceptance and adoption of non-Mandalorians as family, taking up the clan maxim, "Aliit Ori'shya Tal'din." (Note that this is a few years before the First Battle of Shogun, and thus the other Mandalorian clans were not quite yet ready to accept the idea of allowing any species to become Mandalorian.) Nonetheless, their infamy grew profitable, inspiring aliens of all kinds to make pilgrimage from as far as the opposite side of the galaxy, in hope of becoming true Mandalorians despite their birth-species. Within the clan, Khy'n was respected highly, and considered to be one of the great leaders Mandalore had seen, with a generous heart to balance out his ferocity. This reputation spread like wildfire, and the clan's size grew one-hundredfold within this prosperous era. However, all times of great prosperity must fade, and thus did that of Clan Korssa, with the death of their Alor. Khy'n died an honourable death, falling during the First Battle of Shogun, not living long enough to see how his great hope for the future of Mandalore would soon blossom into fruition.

Upon his death, the House Korssa turned to mourning, and their reluctance to select a new Alor meant they quickly lost their seat on the council. Such was the symbolism at the time, that white armour was considered to be a picture of Manda, a reminder of the hope for those who have passed on. So, in memory of the warrior who had given them all hope, the members of Clan Korssa donned pure-white Beskar'gam: a great plea that their fallen leader would reach Manda, regardless of his birth species. It was this signature armour colour they would continue to use hundreds of years into the future. But, after years of sorrow, solemnity, and fond remembrance, the clan began it's long-awaited search for a new leader.


_____





Ret'urcye Mhi bah Cuun Uvete.

G o o d b y e t o o u r w o r l d s

Within a year, the search was narrowed down to two warriors. One, Fess Korssa, a female Trandoshan, and Khy'n's adopted child—and the other, a male human Mandalorian known as Ranze Korssa. The Clan's elders agreed on a vibroblade duel beginning at dawn to decide who would be Alor. The duel was fierce, and while both parties bled, neither would concede defeat. The sun set, and the two were still deadlocked. So, in a twist of fate, the elders agreed upon twin leadership, dubbing them Ada'valore: another tradition that would continue long into the clan's distant future. What they did not know, however, is that the two Ada'valore had secrets that would change the future of the clan forever.

They were both Force-sensitives, a hated people among near-all Mandalorians. Fess discovered and announced this in her seventh year of leadership like the true Mandalorian she was, fully expecting her title to be ripped from her and perhaps even for her to be killed for the disgrace. Yet, as she had gained such an honourable reputation as a grand Ada'valor, considered by many to be on par with Khy'n himself, most of Clan Korssa was willing to turn a blind-eye, in hope they could rely more on their other Ada'valor. To their dismay, they soon discovered they could not, as Ranze Korssa revealed he, too, had an affinity for the Force. This meant that the clan's elders, and the clan as a whole, had to made a decision. Would they stick to their traditional values, slaughter their leaders, and search for new ones? Or would they progress, and be willing to accept Force-sensitives as their own? Given the clan was already by far the most progressive on Mandalore, many chose the latter. For some, it would mean their death.

When the council heard the news of the Korssa Clan's acceptance of Force-sensitives, each Alor reacted differently. Nonetheless, they all had one thing in common: they wanted Clan Korssa gone. They were not Mandalorians, not anymore. Not if they disgraced their Ancestors like this. So, within the day, the decision was made. Clan Korssa was dar'manda.

Ranze Korssa had insisted upon altering the schedule, and attending the council that day in Fess's place. For that, he would be stunned, and prepared for execution. In that same council gathering, the more traditionalist clans declared war on Clan Korssa for their betrayal. Fess had accounted for this possibility. She pressed the elders surrender her to their new enemies, and end the bloodshed before it could begin, but they refused. The Clan remained loyal to their leader, and they would have to pay the price.

But not if Fess Korssa had anything to say about it. She gathered the thirteen greatest warriors, intellectuals and tacticians of Clan Korssa that she knew she could trust, for the first ever Council of the Cabure. Each of these select few, becoming known as Cabure (lit. Guardians), were given a number of people to protect until Fess could secure their escape from the Mandalore Sector. Her father had told her of Ryloth—the distant homeland of his species, the Twi'leks, with whom Khy'n had organized a shaky alliance with, before his passing. It would be there that they would seek refuge, or so she hoped.

To save her clan, the Ada'valor, with the help of a rag-tag crew of clan members and hired guns—not to mention her newly realized Force abilities—commandeered three Imperial cruisers. The ships would be capable, she hoped, of ferrying the young men, women and children of the clan across the stars. She sent out a signal, to let every Cabur know the location and time of their extraction from the Mandalorian Sector. But they were not the only ones who received it. When the cruisers landed in their concealed location on Concord Dawn, twelve Cabure were already waiting. But transport ships of the traditionalist Mandalorian clans were on the horizon. They didn't have enough time to all board the ships before the hostile ships' arrival, so the elders and warriors of Clan Korssa stood out in defense against their fellow Mandalorians. Thus, the First Battle of the Dar'manda began.

Clan Korssa would hold off the hostile clans' attacks long enough to allow most of the clan to board the ships, but they suffered heavy losses. Among them, Fess Korssa.

After she detailed her plans to the ship's astronavigators, she ordered the clan to leave without her, insisting she return to Mandalore to rescue Ranze, her fellow Ada'valor... and her closest friend.

The two would disappear the very day before Ranze's execution, and legend says they were never heard of again.

The astronavigators followed their orders, and the clan was once again without a leader. Instead, they had the Council of the Cabure, who would guide them to their safety on Ryloth. But in the chaos of the conflict, after the first ship had warped out towards Ryloth, the second cruiser's hyperdrive was compromised. As they charged up to escape into hyperspace, detonation of a bomb in the hyperdrive system mere seconds before the jump caused a severe malfunction, thrusting them into hyperspace on a wild, brilliant blue streak across the stars.

The third ship was battered from behind as it lifted off, and after it's shields fell, the thrusters were mauled by blaster-fire. Outside the craft, the elders of the Korssa clan lay down their lives, holding off their fellow Mandalorians until their dying breats. Only when they saw the last ship wink into hyperspace did they let go of their lives, and pass on, among their kin. For those who had survived, it was a heartbreaking goodbye to the home, and the people, they loved.

They did not know the terrors ahead.


_____





Yaim, Mar'e.

H o m e , a t L a s t

The Korssa Clan's homecoming on Ryloth was certainly not as welcoming as they all hoped. Damaged thrusters from the previous combat forced the pilots of the third cruiser to crash land putting at risk not only all of those in the cruiser, but those Twi'leks going about their lives on the planet below.

The cabin shuddered as it ripped through Ryloth's atmosphere, plummeting to it's barren surface. he landing wasn't as rough as the pilots expected, and no one aboard the ship was harmed (aside from the occasional bruise). As the cruiser slowed to a stop, however, a violent crunching sound, like the shattering of bones, erupted from below the ship's hull. In fear of having killed a Twi'lek, the ship's occupants poured out, hurrying to the area from which the sound had erupted.

The good news was, it wasn't a Twi'lek. It was a mess of green splinters, dragged the full hundred metres it had taken for the ship to come to a halt. Green blood bubbled upon the broken spines. Whatever it was, the creature was well and truly dead. If they all had not been so transfixed on the corpse, they might have seen the other Lylek scuttling towards them from behind. The massacre that ensued was beyond words, and the already-dwindling numbers of the clan dropped down to less than fifty in the bloodshed. Nonetheless, one young woman stood against the Lylek, and alone evaded it's tentacles, plunging her dagger between the scales on his forehead. Her name was Hadane Korssa, and she was a Zabrak: and she quickly became looked up to in the clan's time of desperate need. Of all planets in the galaxy, Ryloth could be argued to be among the most volatile, with it's whirling heat storms and vicious flora and fauna. They had not time to mourn their lost. Rushedly, they gathered everything of need, leaving behind their fallen brothers and sisters in hope they could, somehow, live on. In hope they could make it to some place more habitable before the next heat storm cooked them in their suits. Hadane led the people, desperately searching for signs of somewhere safe, trekking in the direction of the equatorial forests on the horizon. After what felt like many days of traipsing through the woods, Hadane thought she caught a glimpse of something shining up ahead.

It was the first ship. The first ship made it to Ryloth safely, landing much closer to the designated location, deep in the heart of the forest. They had finally reached a habitable strip of land that would become known as the Sol'yc Yaim, or, in Basic, the First Sanctuary. The embrace was immense, families reunited once more, some clinging to each other in joyous relief, and others grieving for the many who had been lost. Their First Ada'valore. The First Battle of the Dar'manda. The Second Ship. The First Lylek Massacre... And yet, the Clan lived on.

Better yet, as many among the clan had desperately hoped, the first ship was still online, and it's photovoltaic cells were functional. In other words, the ship could keep it's shields and electricity running indefinitely. The survivors adapted to their new environment, the crashed ship becoming the beating heart of the Korssa Clan. As the decades rolled by, the cruiser became entangled with vines and covered in shrub, yet remained the village hall, the home of the Ada'valore, and the meeting place of the Cabure. And as the tribe went from Ada'valore to Ada'valore, the galaxy forgot the Korssa Clan: it's self-inflicted isolation keeping them from the traditionalist clans pursuing war with them. In that time, their allegiance with the Twi'leki natives grew immensely, and in return, the natives kept their location the most hidden of secrets, to be kept until the Ada'valore and Cabure so decided that they were ready to reveal their survival to the galaxy at large.

Alas, that day never came. While those of the Korssa clan clung tight to their Mandalorian heritage, their hope of returning to Mandalore was forgotten, as generation after generation passed in their isolation on Ryloth.

Many years later, as the suppression of the First Order begins to fade, their hope of return is rekindled.





c u l t u r e



______________________________________





Slana'ke.

I n t r o d u c t i o n

Clan Korssa is a remarkable cultural anomaly. While the Clan clings intently to their Mandalorian roots with fervent passion, their time on Ryloth developed them into a fully-fledged splinter society. The culture and traditions of the people of Clan Korssa may resemble the ways of their Mandalorian forefathers on the one hand, whilst being vastly different on the another.

_____





Aliite.

P e o p l e

The people of Clan Korssa are pointedly unique individuals. Often going starkly against the stereotypes laid out by their birth-species, those who are born members of the clan (or are initiated into it) are highly likely to challenge the assumptions of those of the outside galaxy. Their personalities are generally impacted by the high risk circumstances presented by their environment on Ryloth—some have very serious personalities, while others are more fun-loving, and choose to live life to the fullest while it lasts. Ultimately, this aforementioned environmental hostility leads to the one trait that is valued above all else by members of the Korssa Clan: loyalty to their clan, their family. It is this mutual respect, and mutual devotion, between clan members, regardless of birth-species, that has allowed the people to thrive in as hostile an environment as the Forests of Ryloth. Despite their many differences, a fiery, passionate devotion to their family binds them all together, as one.

_____





Aay'ane.

T r a d i t i o n s

Among the many traditions, festivals and sacred days recognized by the Korssa Clan, the Aay'an be Dar'uetii (lit. Rite of the Initiating) is the most well-known, and perhaps the most important. It is, of course, this set of physical, mental, and emotional challenges that may graft an outsider into the clan.

_____





Johase.

L a n g u a g e s

Due to the Korssa Clan's intense isolation from the outside galaxy over the past several hundred years, it's people have evolved a very unique dialect of Mando'a. Known as Ryl Mando'a, this dialect is no longer comprehensible to the average, Mando'a-speaking Mandalorian—it is far more disconnected from mainstream Mandalorian than other dialects, such as Concordian. (For a few more details about Ryl Mando'a, feel free to read the last paragraph of the Language section.)

All members of Clan Korssa are either fluent in Ryl Mando'a, or in the progress of becoming so following initiation. It is the primary language spoken by members of the Korssa Clan, and, unless specified otherwise, they are almost certainly speaking in Ryl Mando'a when conversing with fellow clan members. It is not, however, the only language Korssa Clan members speak. In fact, most are trilingual. While members of the clan require some knowledge of Basic, to interact with those of the outside galaxy, most clan members are also fluent in Twi'leki—a symbol of respect for those whose planet they have come to inhabit. This knowledge is key for all diplomatic (and other) relations between the native Twi'leki people and the clan, and one cannot become a high-ranking member of the clan without also being competent in conversing with the Twi'leki tongue.

There are a variety of key differences between Ryl Mando'a and Mando'a. One key difference is that many words have evolved further uses that were not inherent in mainstream Mando'a. For example, the term Aay'han, which originally meant a beautiful moment of both fond remembrance and celebration, paved the way for the term Aay'an, meaning "Rite" or "Tradition." Similar examles of this sort of linguistic evolution are found all throughout Ryl Mando'a.


_____



___________________________________________________
 
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Hirani Korssa

Biographical Information
Homeworld
Age
Faction
Occupation
Force Sensitive
Level
Theme

Ryloth
19
Mandalorian
Bounty Hunter
No
1
(Twi'lek) Sadness

Physical Description
Species
Gender
Height
Weight
Hair Color
Eye Color
Complexion

Twi'lek
Female
5"5

55 kg
N/A
Vibrant Amber
Lethan

Primary Attributes
Thing one
Thing two

three
Four


  Biography

  Hirani Korssa was born by the light of a thousand fireflies: a small, frail tangle of bones and skin, silently watching the orange lights.

  As she never knew her mother, the Mandalorian by the name of Glie Korssa had to meet all of her needs, alone. Well, at least with the help of a few nurse droids. Her father was respected among their kin: a bounty hunter with no meagre reputation in the Outer Rim. And while Glie was ruthless and cunning, even brutal when he saw fit, he had a soft spot for his daughter. When he returned from his work every few weeks, snatching her away from the nurse droids and taking her to their private residence on Coruscant, he would tell her tales of his exploits: of capturing criminals and bringing them to justice, of the time he traversed the light side of Ryloth to track down a rogue Sector Ranger. He explained that his job was to capture bad people across the galaxy, and to even kill them if there was no other way. He had no idea how tightly she held to his every word.

  The day she turned eleven, Hirani told her father that she wanted to become like him, to become a bounty hunter, and begged for him to train her. While Glie gently refused, he would soon change his mind. One night on Coruscant, he dreamt of a crime lord stealing away his daughter. He watched on, held back by and unknown force, as the criminal plunged a dark blade into her chest; as his helpless daughter bled and died. When he woke, sweat filled his sheets. Walking out to the living room of the apartment, he flicked on a lightswitch to see Hirani jabbing at the air with a kitchen knife, practicing her form, as she had seen him do when he didn't know she was watching. In fearful rage, Glie ripped the knife out of his daughter's hands and shouted at her. But his heart was changed. The girl had fierce spirit, a passion for justice and freedom unlike any he'd seen, even in himself. And she needed to be able to protect herself from whatever may seek to harm her... Glie had heard of dreams coming true, but he couldn't let that happen to Hirani.

  Only weeks after she turned nineteen, her father was abruptly murdered on Imperial Hutta, when he was caught off guard by one of his bounties, Vernon Hall. Since she was not yet old enough to become an Ada'valor, she pursued bounty hunting like her father, quickly gaining a fierce reputation among those who know her name. What she lacks in height and strength, she more than makes up for in dexterity, stamina and intellect: perhaps far more fearsome a foe than one than relies solely on brawn.



 
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db0e3a1d381a1a0c6e1fe0691543f7fc.jpg

Hirani'kor Ssa

Biographical Information
Homeworld
Age
Faction
Rank
Force Sensitive
Level
Theme
Voice

Ryloth
17
Jedi
Padawan
Yes
0
Fellow Feeling
This Person

Physical Description
Species
Gender
Height
Weight
Hair Color
Eye Color
Complexion

Twi'lek
Female
5"5

55 kg
N/A
Vibrant Amber
Purple

Primary Attributes
Thing one
Thing two

three
Four


  Biography

  The girl was born to the crackle of flames: a small, frail tangle of bones and skin, transfixed on whirling orange embers. She lay in a cradle of dirt, her wide eyes tracing the tongues of fire as they danced up into the night. To her, the lights became stars, as the smoke wafted it's way up among them. The warmth calmed her, and she made no sound, unknowing of the horrors around. . . .

  As her newborn daughter lay on the muddy crust of the world, Sienn'kor Ssa shook with pain, biting her lips so hard they bled. Though she didn't have the strength to move—let alone to gather up her daughter and hold her in her own arms—she reached out through the Force, to feel her newborn daughter, and what she would become. Round teardrops spilled down her cheeks.
  Hirani. She was hirani. And, Sienn felt, somehow, she would survive this. She would survive the wrath of Clan Kairn, of Dinek'airn. If only her father could see their little girl...
  A scream. Not from her lips, but somewhere in the distance, beyond the thick charring of ancient trees and fallen friends. It was another Temple guardian, slain where she stood.
  And then, aside from the fire consuming her home, the air was filled with silence, and— No. A new sound. A sound of pain. A whimpering.
  A voice. The first words her daughter would hear, spoken in the language of her people.
  "Ootay so Sama?" Chieftain Dinek'airn asked quietly, barely audible at the distance, but beneath the hushed tones hatred spilled from his jagged teeth. He was a monster. She had always sensed it. But in this moment, his true self shone through more than ever before. "Your chieftain is dead. Your family burns. And you are all that is left to protect your sacred Temple. To'iia afa."
  The whimpering stopped.
  "Afa—" Spoke her brother in response, quivering. Desperate. And yet, he seemed to find strength, as he spat in newfound fury: "Afa a'brila koa to'iia tuno... Afa a'brila kotan to'iia tuno!"
  "Boc'ara." The splintering of blade through bone rattled out from the Temple: out, into the burning village and across the open plains around it. Despite herself, Sienn let out a cry.
  The voice, that of Dinek'airn, that had once been quiet and calm, burst into a fit of rage. "Find me the Priestess. And find her daughter!"
  His son spoke up.
  "We already have." The boy lifted Hirani into his father's arms.

  Slowly, Dinek smiled.
  
________________________________________________________​
  





 
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Hirani'korssa

Biographical Information
Given Name
Clan Name
Homeworld
Age
Faction
Rank
Master
Force Sensitive
Level
Theme
Voice

Hirani
Korssa
Ryloth
17
Jedi
Padawan
Lena Goordayr
Yes
0
Fellow Feeling
This Person

Physical Description
Species
Gender
Height
Weight
Hair Color
Eye Color
Complexion

Twi'lek
Female
5"5

55 kg
N/A
Purple w/ Amber
Purple

Primary Attributes
Thing one
Thing two

three
Four


  Biography

  The girl was born to the crackle of flames: a small, frail tangle of bones and skin, transfixed on whirling orange embers. She lay in a cradle of dirt, her wide eyes tracing the tongues of fire as they danced up into the night. To her, the lights became stars, as the smoke wafted it's way up among them. The warmth calmed her, and she made no sound, and the Force was with her, even then. . . .

  As her newborn daughter lay on the muddy crust of the world, Sienn'korssa shook with pain, biting her lips so hard they bled. Childbirth would surely be easier with assistance, but even the healers were too sick to risk being near her child. She didn't have the strength to move—let alone to gather up her daughter and hold her in her own arms—but she tried nonetheless, rolling herself around in the dirt just to see her daughter's face. When she could at last, teardrops spilled down her cheeks.
  Hirani. She was hirani. And, Sienn felt, somehow, her daughter would survive this—this sickness ravaging her people. If only Hirani's father were there, to see their little girl...
  
  The Plague had already taken him.

____________________​

  Much of Hirani's early childhood was one of abnegation. A virtually uncontrollable disease known only as the Plague had ravaged her clan since before she was born, and it left few survivors... Those it struck needed as much help as they could get. So, every day, she would take a bucket to the hot springs on the horizon, and return with fresh water to give her sick friends and family. This devoloped her love of caring for people and raised her with a very selfless mindset. Despite this regular contact with such a contagious disease, however—much to the objection of her mother, who herself was too ill to stop her—Hirani never got sick. And, with her help, things began to look a bit brighter, as the Plague began to subside. Of course, at first she thought it was luck, but eventually she would learn the truth.
  Things changed for the worse after the beginning of her twelfth year. Hirani had to watch on as her mother barely clinged to life, and slowly faded away. On their last night together, her mother stared up at the blanket of stars, croaking her last words out of dry lips and pale skin. But the sickness had driven her delerious, her last words a constant muttering of "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," until her words faded to silence, and breath left her lungs. And then she was gone, and even the shell of a person she had been felt so much more alive that the body that was left over. Her burial was not special. With the new outbreak of the Plague, burials had rapidly become thrice as common as births. Of course, Hirani wept for Sienn day and night. But she could not dwell on it much, as the village was in more dire need than ever, and her mother... her mother had always taught her that even a girl of her young age could make a real difference, if she decided to.
  And she did. After her cousin and best friend, Rin'korssa, contracted the disease, all hope felt lost for Hirani. In a moment of pure, hopeful desperation, she placed her hand on Rin's feverous head and willed her to be healed. And while at the time it seemed like nothing, over the next few days, her cousin was healed.
  But all this made Hirani wonder was if she could have saved her mother.

____________________​

  It was not yet three weeks after the death of Sienn'korssa that the Jedi arrived. The alien called herself Lena Goordayr, and, to Hirani's wonder, she felt an immediate connection with Lena—even before they set eyes on each other. But when they finally did, the Jedi Knight already knew what she was about to ask.
  "That, little one, is called the Force." Lena explained with a soft smile. "It surrounds us and binds us, all living things, as one. You. Me... Everybody."
  Hirani nodded as if she understood, wonder filling her eyes as they walked to the sick camps together. She turned ahead.
  "How are you going to help them?"
  Lena gave another gentle, motherly smile.
  "With the Force as my guide. Life flows from the Force—a Jedi healer like myself is merely the conduit."
  Hirani nodded again, this time understanding a little more. Just outside the sick camp, Lena Goordayr knelt down, to look at her eye-to-eye.
  "Where is your family, little Hirani? It is not safe among the contagious."
  "I— I don't have a family."
  "The Plague...?"
  When Hirani nodded, tears welled up in her eyes and dripped down her ragged clothes. The Lena reached out to touch her shoulder comfortingly.
  "Hush, little one. This will pass. They are with the Force, now. They are at peace." Lena shone like a star in the Force, a bright, welcoming light prepared to heal and protect. Hirani'korssa had never encountered anyone like her. "Who takes care of you?"
  "Um..." She sniffled. "The elders, supposedly. But since they're all sick, I mostly— I mostly take care of myself."
  Hirani didn't understand the twinkle in the Jedi's eye. Not until after Lena Goordayr reached out her hand, and asked her a simple question.
  "Come with me?"

  Hirani reached out and took it.

____________________​

  For the next year, the pair travelled from world to world in the Outer Rim making many friends across the stars and bringing aid where it was most needed. After this, Lena Goordayr, now a Jedi Master, was even offered a place on the Jedi Council—a great honour, but one she had to refuse. She wanted to heal the sick in further reaches of the Outer Rim, and train her Padawan learner in the process.

  The two forged a tight bond as they continued their travels together, and with the training, Hirani grew much closer to becoming the Jedi Knight she strived to be. In the years that followed, she saw planets and stars she could never have dreamed of seeing, and honed her connection to the Force until it was stronger than ever. Always, she looked up to Master Goordayr like a mother, clinging to her every word, and doing everything she could to make her proud.

  Finally, her Master decided it was time to return to the Jedi Temple, on Ajan Kloss. Lena accepted her seat on the Council, and Hirani was moved into the Temple: the first real home she had since Ryloth. The two continued training together, but they agreed that any reputation or benefits Hirani would have among the Jedi would have to be earned of her own actions, and not at all of her Master's superior rank in the Order.

____________________​


  Personality

  Selflessness was always a core tenet of Hirani's persona. She has a deep passion for helping others, and considers it the primary source of meaning in her life. Due to her lonely upbringing, she can be shy at times, but will speak up about anything she is passionate about. She also has a playful side, but it takes her truly trusting someone to open up that part of her. Despite being only 17, she possesses a maturity beyond her years, which she attributes to wise guidance from her Master and mother-figure, Lena Goordayr.
  As for the more negative aspects of her character, Hirani can often overestimate her abilities, taking on tasks that are too much for her to handle. She is also very spontaneous, and while this can be a positive, it also means that she struggles to stick to a defined plan, regardless of how much she wants to. Most of all, she struggles with her emotions, and processing some of the horrors she witnessed during her travels, as well as the death of many of her family members.
  Ultimately, though, she continually strives to prove herself to the Jedi Council—to her Master. Soon, she hopes to become a Jedi Knight, and follow in Lena's footsteps. But for now, her primary directive is to train herself, and become the best Jedi—more importantly, the best person—she can be.

____________________​


 
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The confrontation exploded into action, quite literally. Mere seconds after she was in position, the slavers began charging out of their shuttles and into the wet fields of battle.

BOOM!

Bodies fell like bowling pins, the well-timed fragmentation grenade instantly killing a few members of the initial enemy offense, and incapacitating several more. She hadn't seen where it came from. But when a young Sector Ranger came barreling through the smoke, Hirani smiled. One more ally than expected. They needed every single one they could get.



 
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Meanwhile, in hyperspace . . .

Hirani'korssa was on her way to respond to a distress call in the Ord Radama system, though her pilot seemed to be taking a very peculiar route to get there. Still, she trusted his guidance. He was Vha Morrn — an old Kel Dor who had seen his fair share of wanderers in his (very long) time ferrying travelers around the Outer Rim. He had taken a liking to her when they were first introduced, and was clearly thrilled at the prospect of helping a young Padawan on one of her first missions. Hirani was, of course, simply nervous to get to there as soon as possible.

Vha had likely been the second nicest part of the flight: mostly because he kept to himself. But the best bit was his droid, who couldn't shut up. An R-series astromech simply known as R2-U2, the little thing was pretty much an all encompassing in-flight entertainment system. Like the transport's pilot, R2-U2 was remarkably old — but the stories it could tell were wonderful, if you were one lucky enough to understand Binary. Apparently his previous owner had been a smuggler, and a fearless explorer with a short fuse. The droid even claimed to have met Rey Skywalker, though Hirani very much doubted it.

The transport lurched: an almost nauseating shift in the Force telling Hirani they'd exited hyperspace. With that, she stood up and scooted past the chattering R2 unit, out of the passenger bay into the cockpit.

"How're we flying, Vha?"

"Less than fifteen jumps until Ord Radama. I'd recommend you return to the passenger bay, miss, I'm sure U2 will keep you company."

As the young Twi'lek was turning to leave, an annoying alarm began chirping out from the transport's main console. And there was something else, something horribly dark echoing out through the Force, but it disappeared as quickly as Hirani noticed it.

"Qa faho— What the hell was that?"

"It's just a distress signal. All too common in these parts of the galaxy, I'll switch it off for y—"

"Don't! Is there a message with it?" She recalled to how the distress signal from Ord Radama came with a very brief holomessage from Drow Venn, a fellow Jedi. Reluctantly, Vha showed her the message.

On the cockpit's holoreceptor, a pasty human figure fluttered chaotically through the static. He appeared to be hunched over, clinging a hand over a bloody wound in his stomach, obviously in immense pain.

"I, I'm Dr. Rio Faran — our cruiser — kzzzskt — several, agh, several dying and more dead — ktch — need immediate rescue. I repeat — chtk — they are coming — they- agghhhh — kchtszz — we are — kszzzztchchchch..."



 

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Hirani'korssa strode amidst the bustle of the dusty tech market, her hood clinging to her brow. Her cloak wafted out behind her as she picked up her pace, darting eyes over the marketplace. Scanning it in her mind. Thoroughly. In this community, scavengers and vendors of all kin and creed came from the shadows to offer their tech in exchange for what credits their buyers could spare. Most of it was ammunition. Some of the more expensive traders had weapons to sell, too. But the most valuable tech of all was sold by pawns of the Hutt Clan, as it had been on Tatooine for many generations.

There you are...

It was one of the scengers, a particularly fiery Nikto of the grey-skinned kind, by the name of Karsat'gul'taske. He was not quite the most reputable of salesmen—if the rumors were true. And he had something she wanted: or, more accurately, something that she was required to acquire. Tendrils of smoke spun out the chimney of a nearby spice den as the Jedi split her way through the crowd. The Force came alive within her then, her eyes shut tight. It was there. What had come for, hidden away amongst all of the junk that Nikto had with him. She felt it, clear as day.

The stolen lightsaber.

It wasn't hers. Although she had the option to build her own once, not all that long ago, Hirani had turned away when the time came. She was not ready. Perhaps she was now... but for the time being, her focus lay entirely on her missions. On her training. On becoming a true Jedi: one worthy of the rank of Knight, and worthy to weild a saber in the sole name of balance, with purity of heart. Perhaps—she jokingly considered—she could keep this saber instead of returning it to it's rightful owner back on Ajan Kloss.

Before she could reach it, however, the Nikto exploded. Metaphorically, of course. The man was seething with anger, having, apparently, been insulted by one of his potential customers.

Bargaining for lightsaber.

Prepping to end post.

 
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IU3oFC1.png

____________________________________________________________________________


t h e j e d i

T r i a l s


_________________________________________________________


The Jedi Trials are the ultimate test for any Padawan who wishes to become a Knight. While in the New Jedi Order there are other means of attaining Knighthood, passing the Trials is the most straightforward one. Unlike the ways of the Fallen Order, the New Trials are held annually, and are accompanied by the greatest Jedi gathering of the year, known to some as the Festival of Light. Masters, knights, padawans, and spectators alike come together to celebrate in the Three Ceremonies, across three weeks: Preparation, Celebration, and the Knightings.

Nonetheless, one should not expect them to be easy. Not all who enter the Trials pass them.

It is no coincidence the planet of Ajan Kloss has remained the Jedi homeworld for over a century. Not only was it the planet one which Rey Skywalker was trained by Leia Solo, but it is, inherently, the perfect place to hold the Trials. There are countless natural—and unnatural—obstacles that riddle the Klosslands: and one can only pass the Trials if they follow Rey's Path—a trail through the forests and across the White Waters, into the darkest depths of hollow caverns, and through Dameron Falls.

Ultimately, the Trials are designed to push each member of the Order to their limits in nine facets: teamwork, isolation, fear, anger, betrayal, focus, instinct, forgiveness, and protection. While Knights and Masters may watch on from afar, they must not interfere with the matters of the Trials unless absolutely necessary.

 
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It was then that Hir'anikorssa felt a slight tug at her cloak. Turning around to see what it was, the Twi'lek's eyes fell upon a little boy. Human. He looked to be about six years old, and had black dust smudged into his shirt, as well as into his grubby cheeks and messy brown hair.

"Uhm… Excuse me? Master Jedi?" The boy's soft falsetto shook a little as he spoke, and Hirani absolutely could not bring herself to correct him on the point of her rank. He was far too adorable for that. And by her own admission, she could not help but like the sound of Hir'anikorssa, Jedi Master.

"Yeah, mister?" She said back, playfully, slowly kneeling down to talk to him at eye level.

He continued, a little less shakily. "Well... Mama is really sad because we're run out of food, and- and, Uncle Brig said you Jedi Masters were rescuing people back at home with a magical person called Theeforce... Can you ask your magic friend to get us lots of food, um, please?"

Her first impulse was to ignore everything the little boy had to say, as he was entirely too cute for her limited attention span to handle. Nonetheless, the Jedi retroactively pieced together what he'd said, and tried to wrap her head around it. Other Jedi had been sent out to rescue any survivors of the earthquake, so that part made some sense, and the 'magical friend' he had described was most certainly a very confused (yet very adorable) misinterpretation of the Force.

Before Hirani could answer his question, though, a human woman peeked into their tent. It didn't take long at all for anyone to piece together the obvious: it was the boy's mother, and by the was she was panting, she'd probably been looking for him everywhere.

"Tilcce! Get away from her!" The woman took her son by the hand and pulled him towards the opening of the tent. Her eyes were wide, and she trembled as she yanked her son away.

Something was very wrong.

"I assure you, he was no bother..." Hirani stood back up, brow furrowed at the outburst. No answer came but the flapping of the tent's entrance, as the mother fled in fear, child tight in hand.

She could not help but sense what the boy had said—his mother was heartbroken, she had lost all hope. They were out of food, and as far as anyone knew, a shipment large enough for the entire city would take several weeks—if not months—to arrive from offworld. If nothing changed soon, starvation would come to their entire city, and death to everyone she loved. All they had were three Padawans, and bad odds. But there was something more than that: something horrific embedded in the woman's mind. Why would she consider a mere seventeen year-old a threat to her son? The Jedi had shown no signs of aggression, so what was that fire in the mother's soul?

Hirani sensed a word, a bright, red thought ringing out in her mind, as if spoken by the woman herself.

Monsters.

Then, another voice. While the first word came to her directly from the woman's mind, this voice, she felt, was guidance from Kika'lekki herself.

This terror is not hers alone. The galaxy trembles, little one.

Horror gripped at her heart as she suddenly felt the full depth of what had happened. The Twi'lek had feared it was coming—she had a lingering sense that the time of peace for the Jedi could not last forever, that something dark was on the horizon. But not now. No. No. Her body froze still as it all came washing over her, and she was not sure how long she stood there, but by the time she moved out of the tent, the woman and little Tilcce were long gone.

Outside, the people of the Fallen City were gathered around the shimmering blue of a Hologram. It was playing the HoloNews—or what should have been the HoloNews. Instead, the broadcast had been interrupted: a Hutt was furiously announcing the death of his son, and declaring five-thousand credit bounties on Jedi across the Outer Rim. Throughout the part of the galaxy that had become her home, perhaps even more so than Ryloth itself. Tears welled in her eyes, then, as she realized the struggle that would come, after this. They would no longer be free to help those of the galaxy without fear.


 
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BIOGRAPHY


NYhG9oW_d.webp

FULL NAME: Ribs
AGE: 26
SPECIES: Sephi

HOMEWORLD: Nar Shaddaa
FACTION: Independent
RANK: Veteran
ALIGNMENT: Communalism

FORCE-SENSITIVE: No

HEIGHT: 5"9
WEIGHT: 74 kgs
COMPLEXION: Pale
HAIR COLOR: Muck Hazel
EYE COLOR: Lime

STRENGTH:
██████████
DEXTERITY:

██████████
STAMINA:

██████████
INTELLIGENCE:
█████████

WISDOM:
██████████
CHARISMA:
███████
███

BEGIN MEMORY SHARD #00000006: "I LOVE MY MOON"

Nar Shaddaa kissed me, or something like that. Now my face was muddy puddled today, but I didn't hate it. What was good was I held onto you, my Fish, really tight. When I sat up, I bit you really hard, so hard your little bones went crackle and your wiggling gave up and you could see it was like fruit inside! Peach! But actually, that colour is pink. Colours are special things, you know, around here. Everything is dark and dirty and yuck, but sometimes there are bright, glowy signs or inside fishes to make things different. It's good to enjoy every day you have. My big friend told me that!

Fish doesn't taste very good, terrible actually, and all slimey and scaly and salty, but I liked you. I was salty too, obviously. Across from me, in a different puddle, there was Mr. Half-A-Person. He was my big friend, and he said I could call him that when he went to sleep. I knew him for a while, but I think he's dead now, like you are, basically. Hey, did you know we all have bones, even you and me?

All my fingers were mucked with charcoaly paste, and most of my body actually, too. You couldn't move without feeling like something was hanging onto you, because something was always hanging onto you. I nibbled some more around the white spikes. I watched as the puddles didn't run, they walked across the street, which was empty and black, except for the wind, and Mr. Half-A-Person, and me. But a street across, bootsteps shuffled and scattered in my direction, so I figured what to do, and slid into some hideaway black black corner somewhere, where even I couldn't see my nose.

"The kriff was that?" The boots heard me.


"Rib-cat. You get used to them."

"I swear it was bigger. And don't you smell something? Rotting." Boots came real close now, and I realised they were actually high-heels. "I have a fucking awful feeling about this."

"Well, welcome to Nar Shaddaa, darling. People die here. Like rats."

Then they found Mr. Half-A-Person, and if he wasn't before, heels was definitely jittery now. "Oh holy shit babe, he's been blown in half. Omigod. Oh, that's so, so disgusting. Let's get out of here."

I really needed to pee, so, thankfully, they did get out of here, and scuttled away. Like crabs. Now there was one more puddle on the street, and I finished with you, and I found a nice no-puddle spot after looking a while and I lied down and after a long, long time, I dreamt of when Mr. Half-A-Person was Mr. All-Of-A-Person, and when you were our pet.


MEMORY SHARD #00002917: YEAH, WE'RE SKIPPING A BIT, TRY TO KEEP UP


Name: Ribs.
Age: 17.
Orientation: Driekasian-Marzian Communalism.

So... what do I write here? I wasn't exactly schooled in writing applications of this sort, you know. I feel like you're really missing your target audience by requiring these. But what do I know?

Well, let's start from the top, I guess. My name. It would be really convenient for the both of us if I could tell you a neatly packaged story about how someone chose my name for me, or maybe how I chose it myself, but I don't remember, frankly. Use your imagination, I don't care—as far as I'm concerned, I've always been Ribs. Yeah, it probably has something to do with my having been a hungry little thing who by all accounts should not have survived childhood, but beyond that, well, only Kika'lekki knows.

With that out of the way, I'm sure all you really wanted to know was why I'm applying to join at all. If I can be trusted, that sort. In which case, slow yourself, I'm getting to it. Ever since those days, darting from home to home and burying everything that happened, I've found myself in all sorts of trouble with those "in charge"—the Syndicates, the Hutts, or anyone else, really. It's not hard to get why. The only people I could feel safe with were those like me, of course. The kinds that took me in growing up—the kinds who knew what it meant to have nothing and still have the world. Everyone deserves that, don't they? The world? I think the worst kinds of people are the ones who don't cherish it enough while they still can. Actually, no, those are the second worst.

The worst kinds of people take away others' worlds.

Even on this moon, where worlds disappear like dust and breath, I never forgot how important it is to have the world. I don't care about taking other people's things—stealing from those who have, or defacing things people pretend are their own comes natural to a girl who never had. But taking away someone's world? The people who do that, I never really was able to hold in any kind of high regard. All that being said, at my last place, there was this Rodian guy—you know the one, he recruited me—who blew out a Hutt's brains. It may have even been on my behalf. You know, it was the kind of Hutt who had taken away other people's worlds. The kind who had grown so old, so blind to the spirit of living, that they were willing to shred others' lives at a whim. He hurt me once, when I was younger. Yet, just like that, he'd hurt no one again. Just like that, more worlds would, most likely, stay intact. And everything would still be dreadful, but it would be dreadful without him. Somehow I found comfort in that, and I guess that was when I was radicalized to the people's cause. It was simply, in some sense, to my own.

Application Approved — Forever May You Stand Beneath the Scarlet Jack


END MEMORY FRAGMENT RECOVERY — — — ENDED.


BEGIN PROFILE LEVEL: CONFIDENTIAL —


As young as 26, Ribs may be considered a veteran of the communalist cause on Nar Shaddaa. Ever since joining up aged 17, she is known to have participated in various illegal activities on behalf of the communalists, as well as writing prolifically in their underground HoloZine, The Crimson Corsair. Infamously, she was briefly wanted for having attempted to assassinate an allegedly corrupt senator at his wedding. Despite being captured once, Ribs was broken out of jail by her comrades—at this time the movement was clearly at the height of their power and influence. However, considering the shift in recent years to a power structure in which the Five Syndicates reign Nar Shaddaa, she is no longer actively wanted for the time being. Furthermore, many communalist organisations have been utterly ravaged by the recent AMS plague, and it seems very few members of her experience remain.

Recommendation: Continue to monitor.

— — ENDED.



PERSONALITY


gcKwm71_d.webp


PRACTICAL SKILLS

■■■■■
Slicing
■■■■■
Survival
■■■■■
Tracking
■■■■■
Hunting
■■■■
Leadership
■■■■
Thievery

COMBAT SKILLS

■■■■
Blasters
■■■■■
Rifles
■■■■■
Misc.
■■■■■
Demo.
■■■■
H2H
■■■■■
Daggers

EDUCATION

■■■■■
Huttese
■■■■■
Mando'a
■■■■■
Twi'leki
■■■■
Tactics
■■■■■
Politics
■■■■■
Espionage


As far as her personality is concerned, Ribs is all over the place. Having been raised in many different homes with no sturdy parent figures to call family, she never learnt to keep within social conventions, and will often behave according to her simple, random compulsions, with little regard as to the opinions of others. When she needs to, though, she can keep in line—it just doesn't come easily. Despite her irreverence in the face of others, she does care about the people around her, and is driven by a strong moral conviction that the cause she pursues is just.





































LEGACY


mANUoUk.jpeg


EQUIPMENT
x2 DG-34 Peacemakers—A life spent on Nar Shaddaa acquaints one early with a vast array of tools for violence. Having little other means of protection in such a wretched place, Ribs has been in the possession of innumerable blasters old and new, but ultimately settled on these. Her trusty Peacemakers have kept her alive in all sorts of scenarios.
THREAD NAME AND URL — Thread synopsis.

 
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BIOGRAPHY


eHchktj_d.webp

FULL NAME: Driekas's Monster
AGE: 27
SPECIES: Sephi

HOMEWORLD: Thrustra
FACTION: United Protectorate
RANK: Senator
ALIGNMENT: Left-leaning

FORCE-SENSITIVE: Yes, entirely untrained.

HEIGHT: 5"3
WEIGHT: 67 kgs
COMPLEXION: Pale Pink
HAIR COLOR: Turquoise
EYE COLOR: Light Blue

STRENGTH:
██████████

DEXTERITY:
██████████

STAMINA:
██████████

INTELLIGENCE:
█████████

WISDOM:
██████████

CHARISMA:
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Being born to a couple of very wealthy philantropists on Thrustra, Lyssiana Sol Dreikas III (or, by her own preference, Lyssa) was always different to the other kids. When she was much younger, the freckled girl with the wild turquoise hair was obsessed with painting, and even from this bubbly young age, the girl excelled in her art, winning several age-restricted painting competitions. When she grew a little bit older, she discovered her passion for computers: honing her slicing skills behind the respective backs of her parents, as she had also developed an intense curiosity to understand the darker side of the HoloNet. And while she was a spectacular artist, she struggled to squeeze time to paint in around an incredibly tight schedule. While on Thrustra, during the Mandalorian occupation, Lyssa realised that what they taught in schools was very Pro-Mandalorian, unsurprisingly—she had no idea the true difference until she would move into the territory of the Sith Empire. Her struggle with her schedule became especially tight after her parents did so, pooling the funds to send her to one of the most prestigious private boarding schools in the United Protectorate: the Academy of Calamar, on Esseles. As a child raised in a family of philanthropists, often more focused on others than themselves, this was the loveliest gift her parents had given ever given her. She would make them proud.

During her time there—despite the occasional xenophobic remark about her species, especially her ears—she came to believe that the Sith Empire was truly the greatest power in the galaxy, with none to rival it's dedication to providing peace, security, and order. After her successes in painting and her remarkable educational honours, the teenage Sephi was, despite her species, practically wading through university invitations both on and offworld. Atop them all, she was given the incredibly rare opportunity to move to Coruscant, and attend the prestigious University of Coruscant. For someone born into a life of blessing, Lyssa cared deeply about the poor and the downtrodden of her homeworld (and the rest of the galaxy). This tempted her to return home, to be with her family once more; but the offer from Coruscant was far too valuable to deny. The opportunities it would provide her would be astounding, and perhaps she would be able to truly make a difference if she attended.

Once she arrived on Coruscant, she would regularly donate her spare credits to Imperial organisations she believed would make the galaxy a better place. However, she was not entirely convinced of everything the Sith Empire taught. Her impressive slicing skills allowed her anonymous access to some of the shadier parts of the HoloNet—specifically, the DarkNet, as it is sometimes known. She spent much of her time learning of the dark that fills the galaxy, of the struggles of those who live further from the core than she, also learning that life on Imperial worlds her teachers claimed to be prosperous, was far from it. At the time, she dismissed this as a mistake, an unintentional inaccuracy on the part of her education. She would later realise how terribly wrong she was. Alas, she still believed her teachers' tales of the rebel terrorists that were encroaching on Imperial space, the stories of hatred and horror sickening her to her core.

This belief inspired her to take up her slicer alias, 051R15 (or "Osiris"), which she hoped use to hunt down rebel terrorists and report their location to the Empire. Lyssa rooted and augmented her personal computer, programming an alternate operating system for her alias to use, making extremely certain she couldn't be tracked, and that her actions would be completely untraceable should the teachers (or anyone else) search her computer. And then, at merely sixteen, she would come home of a night, and dip her feet into the DarkNet, searching for those few rebels coordinating their terror online. Before long, she had immersed herself in it, exploring pages where weapons deals were enacted, and spice was exchanged. Occasionally, she would be lucky enough to find a criminal who was not tech-savvy enough to defend themselves from her viruses, amd she would report their activities to the Sith Empire through her pseudoname. Soon enough, 051R15 became a recognisable name in the slicing community and across the DarkNet, but Lyssa mostly focused on keeping her anonymity safe. Unless there were lives on the line, she doubted she'd ever reveal her identity. Little did she know how everything would change.

It was a regular day, not long after she'd turned nineteen, when she finally landed on something big. This was the one. The big one. Her chance to make a real difference in the fight against terror. A rebel terrorist, keeping their identity under wraps, of course, was reaching out to fellow rebels, planning an attack on one of the few surviving Imperial camps on her homeworld of Thrustra. In her most ambitious cyberattack yet, the Sephi claimed to be a fellow rebel, and targeted the terrorist with a virus that, if gone unnoticed, would allow her remote access to all of his communications... and the gamble paid off.

But instead of uncovering messages spreading hateful vitriol and brlagging about the murders of innocents, as her education had taught her to expect, what she read made her even more sick. The rebel 'terrorist' had his entire family being kept in that camp. The things he had discovered they were doing to them, the things the Empire was doing to innocents in the name of order—there was nothing that would ever be able to erase those images from her mind. No. Lyssa shut down the computer. Unplugged it. She went to sleep numb.

After that night, everything changed. The Empire was no longer the home she loved—it was the nightmare she lived. All she could do was watch on as her friends and classmates were fed blatant lie upon lie, powerless to tell them the truth, knowing they would not be able to accept it unless they were confronted with it themselves. Regardless, after hours, under her alias, she delved deeper into the rebel cause, assisting in the slicing operation that would free the rebel's family. The attack was remarkably successful, and the rebels claimed to have retrieved data that was imperative to their cause, as well. For the next few months, her work with the rebellion became all the more prominent, and her alias turned into her life. She constantly had to live in fear of finally being caught, her actions finally being exposed. On one occasion, she found her room completely ransacked, and her personal computer, sliced into.

But nothing happened. No punishment. No announcement of her betrayal of the Empire she'd been raised into. Nothing. Until, a few long weeks later, she got word from Thrustra.

Her family was gone. Their neighbours said they had completely disappeared overnight. They were nowhere to be found—but Lyssa knew exactly where she'd find them. On the first shuttle back to Thrusta, she hoped and prayed she was wrong. But she wasn't. When she arrived at her old home, the house she was raised in, it was emptied out. Cleaned bare, not a single memory of her old home left in those walls. Running outside, she jumped on her speeder and sped off. She was going to the last Imperial camp on Thrustra. It was a very long ride, and when she arrived, the camp was barren. The Imperials stationed there had since evacuated, perhaps fearing discovery from the Mandalorian occupation. But it was not entirely empty. Lyssa crept in side, begging, pleading to any god above that, somehow, her intuition would be ever so wrong. It wasn't. She found them one by one, skin pale, ears drooped, eyes devoid of life. They lay in puddles of blood. Her father. Mother. Step-brother. Dead. Dead. She wanted to cry, to scream, to burn—but the tears would wouldn't come. All she could do was sit, kneel, lay in cold, numb agony and fill her lungs with hate with every breath. All she could do was remember everything they had, every moment they'd shared, every time she hadn't cared enough. All she could do is imagine them alive again. But they weren't. But they never would be.

And then, after an hour of lying next to the bodies of her family members, the tears finally came. They trickled, and then poured, muddying her face with droplets of salty water and swelling her eyes up like a Sullustan. Gusts of anguish and despair and hate and hate towards the monsters who did this, towards the stars themselves that watched on as everything unfolded. That night, she painted the floor with tears and blood.

It was not yet the end of her story, however. In some ways, it was just beginning. Though she had only lasted one year at the University of Coruscant, she elected to continue her degree back on her homeworld of Thrustra, snapped up by the Thrustra College of Arts and Sciences. She would take a double degree, majoring in political science and sociology, and over the next four years of her life, she committed herself entirely to her work. This was, in part, an intentional distraction: she had so much work to do that she didn't have the time to mourn. Upon completion of her degree, she came to realise what it was she needed to do. After inheriting her parents' wealth, she was in position to support those far worse off than herself. So, Lyssa permenantly relocated herself to the slums far outside Merydian, and co-founded a non-for-profit organization called the Feed Sephi Foundation. To commemorate it's creation, Sol Dreikas prepared her most comprehensive collection of paintings yet, donating all of the proceeds of her art to the organization.

In this time of being Public Representative for the company and selling art, she slowly became a well-known figure on Thrustra. Via her social media accounts and her public speeches, her anti-Imperial views were well known, and as the Sith Empire is highly humanocentric, it was a position held by many, many Sephi on Thrustra, and across the stars. Even before running for the Senate, Lyssa's popularity was blooming: a young intellectual with the guts to speak out against their former oppressors, against those still oppressing countless non-human species in the Core Worlds... To most of the Sephi, their hearts had already been won over.

When the United Protectorate's Senate Elections were held on Thrustra, her personal political party, the Free Thrustra Party, won in a landslide victory. While the planet was officially under Mandalorian occupation, Lyssa would approach the Senate as an independent, focused on doing what is right for her people, for the primary inhabitants of Thrustra, the Sephi, more than anything else.




PERSONALITY


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PRACTICAL SKILLS

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Slicing
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Survival
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Tracking
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Hunting
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Leadership
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Invest.

COMBAT SKILLS

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Blasters
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Rifles
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Misc.
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Demo.
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H2H
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Daggers

EDUCATION

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Huttese
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Mando'a
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Twi'leki
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Tactics
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Politics
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Espionage


"See? You should have killed me when you had the chance: I am no longer just a girl, just a voice you can silence. I am an idea, a resounding song of the enmity between my people and the Sith Empire's oppressive regime. You cannot kill an idea, no matter how hard you try. But the idea... the idea can kill you."Lyssa Sol Dreikas, addressing Imperial Senators in the United Protectorate Senate after their expression of distaste for her anti-Imperial disposition.

If ever there were a being on Thrustra who was truly kind, it was Lyssiana Sol Dreikas. She refused to let the agony of losing her family turn her heart cold, and she refused to do what the Empire thought and hoped she would—roll over and die. She is humble, yet proud of her people, the Sephi. She is calm, yet fiery, passionate about exposing corruption in both the Sith Empire and among the Mandalorians. She is devoted to making the galaxy better for everyone, no matter the cost for her. She is quiet, yet loud and firm when she needs to be. She is cautious, yet takes risks if she believes them to be worth it. She is rebellious, yet seeks harmony between her and her enemies, for the good of the galaxy. Raised in Mandalorian-occuppied Thrustra, among her favouritre quotes is the common Mandolorian saying: We don't have a word for hero. Being prepared to die for your family and friends, or what you hold dear, is a basic requirement for a Mando, so it's not worth a separate word. It's only cowards we had to find a special name for. And while she is no warrior on the battlefront, she fights battles with her words, her charisma, and her fearlessness in the face of oppressive regimes, in the Senate.



















LEGACY


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EQUIPMENT
Light Duraplast Armor
—Beneath Lyssa's formal dress, she dons light duraplast armour covering her chest and back. These are salvaged bits of Ranger Scout Armor given to her by a close friend.


Armorweave Dress
Lyssa rarely wears anything other than her favourite cloak, and for good reason: not only is it beautiful, but it is also secretly threaded with armorweave, as she is well aware being a senator (especially one so vocal against the Empire) makes her a potential target for assassination.


THREAD NAME AND URL — Thread sypnosis.

 
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Sakie

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image collection
to use for new fanon species i'm making
PLAYABLE SENTIENT DARK-SIDE MUMMIES MOTHAFUCKA
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image collection
for relics artifacts and those sorts
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Sakie

do ur best <3
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Secret Paradise of the Outer Rim





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As it has for millennia, the Yden system's approximate location remains unknown to all but a few, sheltering it from most of the outside universe. As such, at least one thread (if not more) is strongly recommended to be used for up to four characters to discover it's location at once, which can be achieved by various means—by locating a Sith Holocron bearing it's name, by attaining the information from one who personally knows, or by finding an outdated map of the sort one might keep in an ancient museum.

Of those in the broader galaxy who have heard of it, the majority strongly believe Yden to be a myth. There is little scholarly interest in it, and there is unlikely to be unless some undeniable evidence can be put forth to the contrary. In practically all circles, those who do tell of it's existence are not taken seriously—in this way it is unlikely ever to rise above the reputation of myth. That the system is surrounded by gravity wells helps to solidify it's public image, as not many who attempt to find the fabled star actually do.

As of posting, the coordinates are completely unknown to all Jedi, Mandalorians, and the vast majority of Sith and Five Syndicates members. This does not mean there cannot be trailblazers to discover and explore it. Quite the contrary. The trouble is that both living to tell the tale and getting out of the system are as difficult as getting in. Nobody wants to make the mistake of finding their ship slipping into a gravity well, as is known to occur to the careless. (A d100 check may be suitable to account for this.) Should you find yourself in one, whether coming in or going out, best forget about Yden for the time being, and focus on making it out alive!

Coordinates Hidden somewhere in the bottom left corner of F-17, nestled between a massive nebula and a sea of gravity wells. Due to the warped space-time, a precise location will likely never be attainable.

Hyperlane(s) None.

Orbital Period Roughly 333 standard days.






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Climate

The climate on Yden varies intensely from place to place. Due to the large planet's lack of rotation, one half of Yden is permanently in the light, and the other permanently in darkness, which makes for an extreme variation between the light side's weather and the dark side's. For example, there is far less rain on the dark side of Yden than on the light side, due to it's lack of heat from the system's star to cause evaporation. Concurrently, there is also a scarcity of 'oxygen-based' life on the dark side ~ instead it has far more rare and terrifying creatures (which will be delved into later).

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Guardian on the hunt for deer-like prey


Atmosphere Mostly Type I (breathable), though some parts of the Dark Side are Type II.

Sky From a deep purple to periwinkle blue to paradise pink on the Light Side ~ Almost always near-pitch black on the Dark Side. Night-vision accessories are often required for non-natives—whereas Ydeni or Vashtyri have evolved to see as though in broad daylight.





Terrain

Light Side~
Few mountain ranges.
Many castle ruins.
Countless beautiful, dense forests; colours of foliage range from green to orange and even to purple.
Most of the Light Side is dappled with Overlands.
Fresh sweetwater hot springs are common—as are sweetwater ice springs. (So if you survive the flora and fauna, mother nature's sauna will knock you dead. Metaphorically.)

Dark Side~

Some of the highest mountain peaks in the galaxy.
Immeasurably vast and complicated cave systems, with long-abandoned empires within.
Predominantly rugged, rocky terrain.
High mineral density of various sorts. Magnetic activity severe.
Volcanic activity severe. Tectonic activity moderate.

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Ancient Ydeni ruins


On the dark side of Yden, the geography of the planet is jagged and black, covered in spiny rocks and riddled with lava pools and complex cave systems. On the other, the ground is covered in foliage and rich soil (fuelled by the radiant, golden hot springs heated by the dark side's volcanoes), with a lack of topographical movement, and makes growing food absurdly easy. However, on both sides, there is a great deal of variation. Some places on the Light Side have very rugged terrain, for example, and some parts of the Dark Side are flat, and on rare occasions will even provide fertile landscapes.

However, hidden inside it's stunning beauty - although not near as dangerous as the mostly-unlivable Dark Side - the Light Side is riddled with predators and pitfalls of every kind. Most of Yden's Light Side terrain could be described as (slightly) similar to that of Endor, but far more exotic ~ beware of brain-eating flora and poisonous serpentine plant-life.

Notably, there is a similarity both sides of the world share, and that is the planet's Force-based anomalies. The effects of these depend entirely on the particular anomaly in question: some may cause mere dizziness. Others may have pacifying hallucinogenic effects similar to certain varieties of spice. Force portals may be found within ruins, transfering their user from one side of the world to the other. It is said that the Force bends here in such a way that, in rare places, it even may be possible for non-Force sensitives to sense the Force temporarily. It is thought that evolution in such an environment is what provided both native sentient species with a natural affinity for the Force.

Arguably the most visually stunning aspect of Yden is it's aptly-named Overlands: mountains, covered in foliage, floating high above the planet's surface, seemingly locked in an eternal battle with gravity. These occur frequently enough that they can usually be seen hanging on the horizon in the distance. Unlike various other aspects of the world, the reasoning behind the gliding mountains is nothing ethereal: the rocks float due to the planet's unique magnetic field from it's unusual metallic structure. Should volcanic activities on the Dark Side trigger a magnetic shift, it is hypothetically possible that these Overlands could fly at great speeds around the planet, maintaining their distance. Or being released into space. Or crashing violently into the ground.

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Overlands of Yden


Rotation One of the things that makes Yden such a unique planet is it's lack of rotation. As it orbits the star at the centre of it's system, Yden's relative rotation is fixed to the star ~ rendering one side of the planet permanently in darkness, and the other permanently in the light.

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The Dark Side of Yden






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Inhabitants

Due to it's massive surface area, Yden is inhabited by many, many non-sentient creatures ~ despite their best efforts, locals speculate only a single percentile of these have been named thus far.

Some of the most common creatures include:
Par-Roka ~ usually Light Side ~ massive, albino, Liger-like creatures with impressively sharp teeth.
Sol-Kiri ~ usually Light Side ~ often white; scaly, winged beasts whose skin is impenetrable to blaster fire. Only the most courageous of Guardians and Wanderers dare tame these wondrous beasts.
Dakuthra-Kanakra ~ usually Dark Side ~ rare, mind-blowingly gigantic and extremely hostile monsters, to dwarf even the Krayt Dragons of Tattooine. These beasts worm the impossible mountain peaks and caverns and feed on minerals, flora, and fauna of every kind.

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Dangerously Stupid Guardian attempting to tame Dakuthra-Kanakra


The dominant sentient society that inhabits Yden are known as Vashtyri ~ a native, force-sensitive near-human race numbering in the hundreds of thousands. However, there are also rumours of another near-extinct sentient race that lives solely on the dark side of Yden, known in the native tongue as Ghosts, or more officially, Ydeni. Although very few credible sources have ever seen them, the Vashtyri have discovered many rock formations on the Dark Side that look an awful lot like sculptures and statues. Vashtyri mythology is also riddled with tales of Ydeni-like creatures: only time will tell if they prove to be as volatile as the myths suggest.

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An Ydeni "Ghost" named Dreika






Cultures

In Vashtyri culture, the general population lived simple lives before they became enraptured with the culture of the stars. They would often work as craftsmen, smiths, hunters, cooks, as well as poets and historians, Guardians (grand, often-Force-sensitive warriors trained to be as crafty as they are skilled with a blade) and Wanderers (wise elders, often proficient with a form of Force foresight), etcetera. Art was among the most loved topics for the Vashtyri, and many great poets, writers and musicians continue to gather for a variety of festivals dedicated to their respective arts. Newcomers to Sol-Rea may indeed find themselves amid the regular throes of festivity in little time at all.

Ydeni culture, conversely, has all but perished with their fallen empires. A race of lone-wolves much unlike the Vashtyri, Ydeni may be found spread far and wide across the galaxy after being enslaved and slaughtered in great numbers countless generations ago.






Resources

An interesting note about Yden's rings is their high density of kyber crystals and endium (an ultra-lightweight alloy used to craft Vashtyri and Ydeni weaponry), leading some to believe that Lyrin was a very kyber-dense planet before the collision. This is also thought to be why Yden itself has such an abundance of kyber, although most kyber found on it's surface can only be found on the planet's dark side. Aside from Yden's kyber and endium, specifically on the mineral-rich dark side, it also has a relatively high presence of chromium and gold.

Yden additionally has all sorts of edible plant life. These range from simple fruits to others that can be used for narcotic purposes, poisons, musical plants, etc.






Government

Close to all of Yden's vast forests and ethereal sanctuaries remain to be explored, but the closest thing to a sort of 'governing' body for the planet was the Nation of Yden, in the only city on the planet, Sol-Rea. The city was once known simply as 'Yden', however at the will of it's citizens, Sol-Rea was renamed after it's mother-priestess to account for the entire planet being named after the city. Everywhere else on Yden is in anarchy, and because no major galactic factions have attempted to gain control for the planet yet, it has become somewhat of a secret hideout for smugglers and those running from authorities or bounty hunters.

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The Castle Sol-Rea, Present Day






Technology

Vashtyri are currently nowhere near as advanced as most of the galaxy, and their prime weapons are swords, bows and arrows, and the Force (although this is likely to change drastically due to Yden being discovered by aspects of the outside galaxy in the near future). These weapons do suffice when hunting deer-like creatures for food, but obviously the vast majority of Vashtyri would not stand the slightest chance in combat if they were to come across an armed outsider.

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Traditional armour worn by a Guardian


The Vashtyri's inability to build spacecraft was one of the main reasons the planet remained unknown to the rest of the known galaxy. Although it is also to do with the fact that it's system is full of asteroids and the occasional minor gravity well, and as such it takes a skilled pilot to find his way to the planet alive. However, since discovering the remnants of an Ydeni war with ancient Sith captors, Vashtyri Wanderers have been studying the remnants of Sith machinery, and a great technological revolution is predicted by many Vashtyri prophetesses.





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Satellites of Yden

Moons ~ Three ~ Kyth, Lyrin and Mythrae.

Lyrin ~ the smallest of the three, Lyrin is the main source of light for the Dark Side of the planet ~ orbit length: 0.5 standard days ~ size: 0.05 of Yden

Mythrae ~ although slightly bigger than Lyrin, Mythrae seems smaller in the sky due to its vastly wide orbit ~ orbit length: 37 standard days ~ size: 0.1 of Yden

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Kyth ~ Moon of Yden


Kiht ~ the biggest of the three moons, with a very wide, elliptical orbit that passes by Yden causing occasional volcanic activity on the Dark Side. Unlike Lyrin and Mythrae, Kiht is a fertile, habitable planet with plants and animals ~ orbit length: 111 standard days ~ size: 0.4 of Yden

Many millions of years ago, Yden ~ with an incredibly elongated orbit and therefore a hostile planet at the time ~ was struck by a dwarf planet. This collision caused Yden's orbit around the system's star to become more circular (and therefore habitable), as well as bringing about it's kyber-filled rings and it's smallest moon: Lyrin. While Yden's mass is incredibly small considering it's sheer size (three times the size of Earth and one point three times the weight), it still has a relatively strong gravitational field, which means that it can hold onto moons that are very far away; for example, Mythrae ~ a tiny circle seen wandering Yden's plum skies.

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Invaders (right) attacking Sol-Rea City; Guardians of Yden defend valiantly (top left)






History

The history of all life on Yden is all thanks to its collision with Lyrin. But the tale that is Yden's lived history was far from beginning. On the Light Side, in the much more recent past, the Vashtyri's tribal equivalents of barons and lords vied for territory, clashing in massive battles. Tribes rose and tribes fell. A small group of respected warriors who became known in the native tongue as the Guardians of Yden gathered their friends and family, and built walls around their small village, to keep out the attacking warriors and barons, as well as the highly-aggressive prowls of Par-Roka. This village would, under many, many years of protection by the Guardians, grow into the planets capital, Yden City. Many other Vashtyri continue to live out in Yden's wilds, but it is thought unlikely much of a singular consolidated society has developed from these offshoots.

On the Dark Side, for thousands of years the Ydeni had carved out a living in the shadows. If cavern art-runes are to be believed, they once reached a state of utopian abundance, but heavenly invaders smote their people, leaving their species fractured in dwindling numbers to this day.

These runes are yet to be read.






Intent

First, Yden may suit perfectly as a safe haven for people in hiding / on the run from authorities [smugglers, people with bounties on their heads, princesses who faked their deaths, etc.]. This is part of why it's difficulty of access and exit is so vital to emphasize—no one goes to Yden on a whim, or to get out of a bounty easily. It's just about creating more options for storytelling. (Disclaimer: It's never easy to get to Yden, and if it is, you're not RPing it right. Or you rolled a 100. Congrats.)

Second, by it's nature of being hard to access yet full of history and life, Yden provides a variety storytelling opportunities outside the ordinary. Not only can finding it practically make up threads on it's own, but upon arrival the planet and it's inhabitants make life complicated at every turn—mere survival on this planet could be RPed in an interesting manner. (I am keen to develop this aspect further as I add to the planet with assorted lore, points/people of interest, and species.)


Third, due to it's relative isolation and high kyber content, if Jedi or Sith are interested, it could even function as a new alternative to Ilum—a special place for lightsaber construction, padawan/acolyte training, etc. Yden is obviously not, however, for the faint of heart—perhaps it would be best restricted to training more advanced Force users, such as knights and above.

Ultimately, my highest goal for Yden is that it might be something of a special locale unique to SWRP across timelines. To run the Yden gauntlet may well be to risk your character's wellbeing, or even their life, in exchange for what is, in small pockets, an escape to an untouched utopia.


 
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Sakie

do ur best <3
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COME CONJOUR SPIRITS ON THE DARK SIDE OF YDEN WHILE TALKING SHIT ABOUT THE SITH

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THE DEFINITIVE DOCU-SERIES FOLLOWING THE COMMUNALIST CAUSE ACROSS THE STARS

MOST IMPORTANT ANIME GALS:
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A DARTH VADER FAN FILM

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WHAT IT SAYS ON THE TIN

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ALSO WHAT IT SAYS ON THE TIN

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ENOUGH SAID


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THE GALAXY'S ONLY PIZZA CHAIN

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NOW WITH FULL SENSORY APPARATUS

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HELO THERE

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AN INFAMOUS RE-IMPRESSIONIST-META-POST-NEO-EMO POP-PUNK BAND FROM KESSEL

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GALAXY-RENOWNED ANDROIDS WHO DOUBLE AS ELECTRONIC MUSIC PRODUCERS (OR ARE THEY HUMAN AFTER ALL?)

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MORE BANDS HDWIDJSHCOENEAS

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DEFINITELY USE THE SIGNATURE MAKER THINGY IN RP LATER FOR SIGNING DOCUMENTS
 
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