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Cantina / Re: Make a (fashion) statement
« on: 02/16/18, 08:19:59 PM »
Character redesign + lightsaber show-off combo!

I redid Zorru to make her BT4 and give her a new haircut that's got a bit more of a samurai feel to it. Her outfit is a bit of a WIP, since I need to acquire some hard to find armors to acheive what I have in my mind for her, but I used the Battleworn Engineer's stuff for a slightly cybernetic feeling. Her outfit's orange, because it seems to be the Padawan/Initiate color, and she spends her days watching over Jedi Younglings.

Her lightsaber is the Serenity Unsealed lightsaber, very no-nonsense and extremely durable. You could drop it from orbit and it would probably land okay. I thought this made sense for a half-Rattataki Jedi who travels often. The pink crystal was originally going to be a healing crystal she found, but I'm considering the possibility of it being a healed Sith crystal instead... Still deciding. If I go with that, I may switch it to a more orange color.

Events and Occasions / Re: Masquerade Ball The Second
« on: 02/16/18, 07:37:32 PM »
Cannot tick multiple, but Saturday or Sunday works for me! Ticked Saturday/Aussie Sunday because I figure that's the most compatible for everyone.

Roleplay Workshop / Re: Dealing with the Alliance
« on: 02/16/18, 06:17:50 AM »
Hey Sotekh. Going to link to that thread for people coming late to find it better: What To Do With Schrodinger's Galaxy...

What I've noticed people doing in RP is basically to leave things vague but basically assume that everyone is alive and the Iokath combat is a 3-way battle and not a 2-way one with the Outlander picking a side. It's... weird, but without Bioware's input as to a canon scenario, it is probably the best we're going to get. Auryn's version where potentially both sides are in an awkward trade-and-make-nice relationship with the Alliance also works too.

Of course, if you have an internal guild canon, then you can just use that! Makes things simple. But potentially awkward when interacting with other guilds.

I tend to play my characters as all kind of suspicious of the Outlander and Alliance, and leave things relatively vague when they talk about it, and roll with whatever the person I'm RPing with says next.

Cantina / Re: Gratitude
« on: 02/16/18, 03:32:22 AM »
@Iaera @blingdenston @Orell @Hawking - Seriously. Jedi Night tonight. Thank you for the awesome adventure pulled out of thin air, and making me cry over a droid. That was seriously fun.


We've already kinda met ish via The Dark Chorus, but welcome to the forums! Looking forward to RPing with your Sith, and you should definitely drop by Jedi Night on your WIP Jedi some time!

Slight update on the thread! The list of priority items is mostly the same, with one addition:
  • Primeval Stalker Belt
  • Series 808 Gloves
  • Revered Master Boots
  • Revanite Pursuer Headgear
These are all ones where I just need that one missing piece to complete my outfits. Help would be appreciated!

Holocrons and Info Nodes / Re: Tales from Camp Veshkgalaar
« on: 02/15/18, 10:29:26 AM »
(( Thanks @Teska for the RP preceding this! Also paging @SivWysan because this ties into your plot a little bit and @Seraphie and @Lolermelon because of character cameos! ))

Urziya waited for her ship to be out of Rishi's orbit to boot up her communications. You could never be too safe with Rishi, with all of the people listening in to make a profit off of, and Terr was for some reason insisting that she keep their conversations out of the public eye. It was one of the things worrying her about him. Between the long periods of time spent at his forge, the sudden greenlighting of her Mare'cye'tuur hunt after emphatically making her postpone it, and his new insistence on secrecy, she knew something was wrong--for him or for the clan. Were they a careful and cautious people? Yes, they were. Was this a usual amount of caution for her cousin? Not particularly. Terr was quiet, focused, not paranoid. He rarely did anything without purpose. If he was insisting on keeping something under wraps, he almost certainly had a good reason for it.

She signalled a communication on his frequency, then sat back to wait for a reply back as it went through several layers of scrambling.

After a moment's pause, he appeared on the holo, looking deceptively small in the crackling image. He looked at her expectantly. "Urziya."

"Heya, alor. I have good news, okay news, better news, great news, and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"

She saw his mouth crinkle as he folded his arms quietly. Annoyance, or impatience? Maybe both.

She took a breath and continued on. "Bad news first... Only got about half the meds and things you can make into meds off the list. Stores are short across the galaxy. Heard a story the Sith and Jetii are grabbing them up for their war efforts."

"Makes sense," he said, a note of gruffness under his voice. "What we expected. If you got any that'll be good."

She grinned. "That's the good news. I got most everything else off the list, and the other half of those meds. Even picked up some sprigs for Wapun's garden. That'll make the medics happy, yeah?"

He nodded. "How much did it cost?"

Her grin grew wider. "That's the better news. A friend covered the expenses."

Terr frowned, narrowing his eyes. "A friend."

"Relax. It's just Taelios."

"I'm not sure how that is the good news."

She frowned back. "We can trust him bevr1." She thought about that, then frowned a little deeper. "I mean... He's sweet on me, I think? So it's fine."

"It's fine?" he repeated, then shook his head. The faintest hint of a smile crunched the corners of his eyes and mouth, along with a single reek-like snort. "Okay. You had two more pieces of news?"

She hummed. "Yeah, the great news and the okay news. I'm not sure which is which, so I'll just go ahead and give you both of them... I got your guns. Well, maybe. Met an armstech who said she has sniper rifles that will punch through tanks. Saw her personal piece. I'm willing to give it a shot. You should have her contact information already."

He blinked, then his image wobbled as he picked up his holocomm, checking the screen for any new contacts. He went still a moment as he read, then wobbled again as he set it down. He looked at her more directly. "I would say that is the great news. Why maybe?"

"Said it might take up to a Standard month, but I think I cut a deal to get us a shorter time and a steep discount."

His eyes narrowed even more. "Ziya, what did you do?"

"I haven't done anything... yet."


She folded her arms with a sigh. "I said I'd help run them. And... maybe a few other things." She looked up, out the viewport. "Said she'd keep in touch, that there's some Ord in Hutt Space. And I've been scouting out the Spice Triangle, so..."

"You've been what?" Terr's frown deepened. "Why?"

"To fly it, obviously."

He didn't respond to that, exactly, just made a gutteral, frustrated growl. She winced and explained quickly:

"You said it yourself. We need medical supplies, along with a whole lot of other things. Not having to deal with runners cuts out a lot of credits and risk--"

"--and puts you in danger! What do you think will happen, with your ship, if you try the Corellian Run? You think they will just tolerate it? Or did you strip all the clan emblems from the hull since I last checked?"

"I can paint--"

"And the Triellius Route? What did I tell you?"

"Nobody in Hutt Space learns the details of our armory," she grumbled lowly.

"Nobody in Hutt Space learns the details of our armory. Rangir!" He rubbed his forehead, then wobbled against as he picked up the holocomm, beginning to walk. "Wait a moment." The corner of a tent flap flashed through the blue-streaked image, falling behind him, and he sat again. "Is this what you've been so focused on in the Abrion Sector, hm? Trying to learn the way between Roon and Ryloth, listening in to spice traders?"

"It's really not as bad as you're making it out to be..."

"Is it not? To say the Death Wind Corridor is suicidal is understating it. But you want to fly it."

"Slavers and spice runners fly it all the time."

"They're part of the danger, ner'vod." Terr glowered and wave a hand near his head. "What are you thinking?"

"That I can fly for the clan again! That our ancestors flew that route once! You think I can't do what some ancient Taung in a rusted out archaic starship did thousands of years ago?" She frowned and picked up her datapad, waving it at his holo-image. "I've got maps, star charts, stuff from the old songs. I'm better than the spice traders."

"I don't want to lose you again!" he said, far, far too loudly. He turned his head, as if startled by the volume of his own voice, then leaned closer to the comm and pointed at it. "I cannot lose you again. If you do this, you take someone with you. Someone to fly your six."


"I am not arguing with you about this. It is an order. Do you understand, ner'alor'ad2?"

She frowned, going quiet.

"Do you understand?" he repeated.

"Elek, alor,3" she said quietly.

"Good." He leaned back, then sighed. "Good. That's good. You do this right. If you do this, you follow procedure." He squinted at her. "Gar suvarir?"4

"I got it, yeah." She kicked her boot against the bottom of the ship's controls, frowning as she thought this over. "But you answer something for me first."

He grunted affirmatively.

Figuring that was the best answer she was going to get, she continued, "Why did you promote me? Because I swear you act more like my parent than my chieftain sometimes." She shook her head. "I have the authority to decide my own missions."

He watched her quietly a moment, then began quietly, "I made you my captain because you have a way with people that I don't have, because you rallied our clan and led us to victory when I led us to retreat. And because I trust you." He paused, then smirked and said with more volume, "And I am the eldest of your bui'tsad5, so, technically, I'm the closest thing you've got. And authority does not mean independence. When you can let your family hold you up the same way you try to hold us up, you won't have to ask me that question. Pick your wingman, come back to camp, and we'll talk about this again."

"Sure." She sighed, sitting straight again, and looking into the holo. "... So who's holding you up, Terr?"

"Back to camp. Alor dayn."6

She let out a huff of breath. "Ziya ven'nar."7

Terr's image flickered out, leaving her to dwell on the conversation. Not exactly the enlightening conversation she had hoped for, but he said they would talk at camp. That was a start. Sighing as she sat back in her chair, she keyed in the coordinates for their current home base. Maybe when she got there, she could ask him what the super secret rifles were for...

1: cousin
2: my captain
3: yes, chief
4: You understand?
5: parent group/blood family
6: Chieftain out
7: short for ven'narir "will do" - made this up to have a Mando'a version of wilco since I couldn't find one

Holocrons and Info Nodes / Tales from Camp Veshkgalaar
« on: 02/15/18, 08:48:30 AM »
(( Same deal as my new Imperial story thread, this one for my Mandos. I'm not the only one with Veshkgalaar toons out there, so @Dassalya and @Niarra if you want to post here feel free. This story is a repost from my main story thread. ))

The banquet of spiced and even-more-spiced foods leftover from the feast were packed into crates, and a fancy bottle of tihaar was left outside of Ange's office with a scrawled note of thanks in Urziya's hand. Veshkgalaar had enough food and drink now to last them a few weeks, even if the aruetii had not appreciated the food. Made up for their clan being the only true Mando'ade at the festival, Urziya reasoned... more leftovers, and it'd make Erran happy. Credits well spent, and less risk for the clan as they prepared to move to a new home.

Adeliey and Erran had both vanished by the time she returned to the balcony. They were also nowhere in sight when walking back to the camp. It didn't take much to put two and two together, especially after Adeliey asking her permission to make a pass at him. They had left together. Part of that made her feel content--Adeliey was happy, Erran would be wound a bit less tight, the clan would be closer to one another--but another part of it... felt confusing and upsetting in a way she couldn't quite place.

She marched up the ramp to her ship in a state of determination, shutting it behind her once inside. It wasn't that she was jealous, not of either of them anyway. Her clanmates were happy... She cared about her clanmates... She wanted them to be happy. Of all Veshkgalaar Aliit, she cared about Adeliey and Erran the most; if they were content, so was she, at least in theory. In fact... In fact it hurt, even if she wanted it not to. Why?

She sighed as she flopped down into the pilot's chair, not bothering to lose her armor just yet. She had been on her feet most of the evening, telling stories, wandering between tables, keeping herself cheerful and kind even when the evening's theme lent itself to grimness.  It was exhausting--but somehow having to think about this was even moreso.

Everything about telling Adeliey 'yes' made perfect sense. There was no reason to get in the way of her clanmate's happiness. She didn't know how she felt about Erran, exactly, not enough to get possessive of him. And Erran had told her to learn what was in her heart. He had meant about her fear of cowardice... but she felt like it applied here too. She had to know what was in her heart, and saying 'yes' meant time to do that. Time to think. Time to figure it out.

So figure it out, she thought, looking up at the transparisteel viewport.

She could just see the stars through the red fog of Nar Shaddaa. Stars like the old kings. Stars like windows to manda. Stars like the untraceable, aching hurt that was people who were gone and lights just out of reach. Erran 'thought the world' of Urziya, Adeliey said. 'Looked at her like she was stars.' And that... that was confusing enough as it is. That hurt enough as it was. It didn't hurt quite as much as catching only glimpses of an Erran that was open and honest, who laughed and swore and talked about his mind.

Maybe that was her wishing he was more like her, and maybe that wasn't fair to Erran. Or maybe it was like Hark had said, a while back, when she asked him about the Sith he'd left the Jedi for... that you know you love someone when you want to know what they're thinking, want to be part of their own inner world. She knew she cared about Erran, but was it enough? Did it match what he saw, the quiet affirmation that she was 'born to be alor'? What did that even mean?! It gave her headaches trying to imagine.

"Tion'jor cuyir ibic bid umaan, buir1?" she mumbled, slumping down in her seat with her boots on the dash, frowning at the stars. She was a good fighter. She cared about her clan. That did not make her alor material. For the almost innumerable time tonight, she felt an ache as she wished her mother were here.

What would she say, anyway? How would Kalada Veshkgalaar advise her daughter? She would say she admired Eshok. That his strength shone out among others, even if it was only apparent to her. That her daughter would know when she was in love. That was Kalada's way. Understated, unless she was fighting. Her mother came alive in a pilot's chair; stayed quietly fierce on the hunt; and adopted Mandalorian grimness, Veshkgalaar ceremoniality, outside of it. It was only because she had flown with her mother so often that she had learned to tackle life with the enthusiasm she did. Why was Erran somehow the exception to that? Normally, Urziya knew exactly what she thought and what she felt... and she had no reservations about moving forward.

She did know that when Erran did not shout from the rooftops that he was a genius, she wanted to punch something. Perhaps it was her unofficial role as clan storyteller, perhaps it was because she cared too much, but if Erran saw her as destined to be a chieftain... He hovered in her mind somewhere between legendary smith and discoverer of fire. This quiet, unassuming quartermaster who reverse-engineered basilisk droids in his spare time and seemed to work magic to her poor understanding of computers. He was indispensible, and the fact that he didn't brag about it, didn't see that it made him special, mystified her. That wasn't something Erran cared about. But it was something she did. So it had to mean something, something about how she felt... right?

And then there was Adeliey. And Adeliey made things about a thousand times more confusing. Erran, she had known since she was small. For as long as Urziya remembered, there had been Erran, tinkering with his machines, building computers, weathering all her questions about how things worked and what he was doing. Adeliey was new. She had only been with the clan for a matter of months, and yet... And yet she knew she would move mountains for either of them. Urziya had more or less sworn to Adeliey earlier tonight that she would remember Adeliey's family as if they were her own--that the dead of Adeliey were the dead of her clan, too. Her house. Her family. And that didn't make sense, if it was only honor. It didn't make sense that this woman who had found her way back to clan and Veshkgalaar's karyai was already so important to her... as much as Erran was.

And she was alor'ad. And two people couldn't be more important than all the clan. Even if they were. Even if the thought of them leaving together made her feel horribly, illogically alone.

And that was it, wasn't it? The hurt. It was not jealousy. It was not sadness. Wasn't even anxiety that Erran would look at her differently, though the undercurrent was there. It was that she missed them both.

Somehow, that was worse.

Adeliey's world--the one where people just loved, without attachments or expectations--that was entirely foreign to her, even with the years spent on Nar Shaddaa. Love was marriage and family and children and clan... it was simple. Erran and Adeliey made things not simple. But what were either of them, if not her family? The only family she had left, except for Terrnock and the rest of the clan? She was spinning her wheels trying to explain why they were different, justify why these two were more important than everyone else, trying not to accept the simplest answer.

'People aren't simple,' Erran said. Maybe he was right.

Urziya made a pained, whining sound at nothing, slumping deeper into her seat, then closed her eyes to think. Her parents were gone. Her aunts and uncles were gone. Terr's only love was his clan and his wartable. Adeliey knew how to comprehend feelings, but Adeliey was... part of this. Hark's grasp on Mandalorian culture was lacking, at best. Who did she know who--

Her eyes drifted to the small crewman's room off the main hallway, still bare and now empty, where Iirim had spent the previous few years with his minimal backpack and his malfunctioning, endearing junkpile of a droid. Iirim would know, she thought. Iirim of all people would understand this... He was family too, even if it was different for him, different from clan; even if he could not follow through on what he understood, with him and Bren, now that he was Jedi again. He would know what to do with the feelings that made no sense.

She dropped her feet from the dashboard and reached for the holotransmitter.

1: "Why is this so difficult, mother?"

Holocrons and Info Nodes / Re: Tales from House Taral
« on: 02/15/18, 08:23:35 AM »
(( Another repost! This one from my original story thread. ))

Somewhere in the Outer Rim...

Athuuna was growing rather fond of Saclas. The trade planet barely pretended at legitimacy, instead taking pride in being a port of free trade--which meant that smuggling, back alley deals, and fences operated in a more or less open light next to "legitimate" business, order forming out of the fertile chaos so endemic to the Outer Rim. He could see why Krallice liked it. The people--the Ocsinin--had a cunning and daring in their exploration that they had in common with her people, albeit, in a much less ruthless fashion. Athuuna was considering masquerading as one for his next cover persona. The Empire had considered a presence here some time ago--hence his familiarity with the planet--but decided it was more useful to their purposes to keep the flow of goods open for more subtle manipulations. Besides, it would mean going through Zygerrian space to get there... and dealing with one was bad enough.

Majia Krallice liked Saclas for a different and altogether simpler reason: It was an excellent place to acquire and rid herself of black market merchandise without oversight from the Empire, the Slaver's Guild, the Hutts, or her father. She moved through the market streets, accompanied a short distance at her 8-o'-clock by a Weequay woman who wore a long blaster rifle and scanned the crowd periodically and her 4-o'clock by a stout Mirialan who seemed more focused on what was in the stalls than who was behind them. As they neared an open-air cafe, she motioned for them to stand watch, then drifted to a booth under a metallic overhang, giving the man on the other side of the table a sharp-toothed smile.

"Lieutenant Athuuna..." she purred. "So good you could make it."

"Morning, Krallice," he said, without looking up. Instead, she saw his eyes flick towards the two women standing at the edge of the cafe. "I don't work for yer father anymore, y'know that. S'the title really necessary?"

"Of course it is," she replied cooly. "After all, my offer still stands. You do not leave the Krallice Armada."

"Says th' woman working independent of it. Yer father know about that?"

"My father supports my endeavors."

Athuuna grinned. "'Course he does. Yer his baby girl. He'd give you a dozen slaves and yer own warship if you asked him. Speakin' of..." He looked pointedly at her companions. "Those yours?"

She did not turn to look, just watched him unblinkingly. She folded her hands on the table and arced a brow. "If you are implying my crew are slaves my father gifted me, the answer is no. The Weequay was one of my father's officers whom I persuaded there were better prospects to be found under a more direct chain of command. And the Mirialan is the best thief in the sector."

Athuuna shrugged, giving her an easy smile as he leaned an arm across the back of his chair. "She's pretty though. Guess the Weequay is too, if that's yer type. You only pick crew who can be eye candy?"

The Zygerrian's ear twitched, narrowing her eyes. "That is irellevant to our business. Unless you've reconsidered my offer."

He grinned and dropped his arm from the chair, settling his hands on the table in a mirror of hers. "I've already got an employer, an' I like them just fine."

"Yes, your mysterious master... Given their taste in relics, I suspect that you are not as free as you pretend you are. Powerful patrons mean powerful consequences should they grow tired of you."

"No offense, Krallice, but I've got my sights a bit higher than yer little smuggling op--"

"--who, with you with us, could become one the most elite retrieval crews in the galaxy--"

"--yer little thieving op, then. Don't get me wrong. You've got a sense of glam and blast-'em-up I love, and the view's not bad either, but yer still small-time. I've got better prospects."

Almost imperceptibly, her smug composure dropped into a frown of, he thought, hurt. Her ears tilted back, and she straightened her shoulders. "To business, then."

"To business," he affirmed, leaning back again. "Ye have what I came for?"

She set a small box on the table, evenly spaced between them, and crossed her arms. "I think you will be satisfied with these."

He nodded, pressing a hand to his temple as his cybernetics scanned the box. He blinked, then raised a brow with a faint smile. "Seems right. There's more in there than I asked for."

"A bonus for a regular customer," she replied, watching him with her arms still folded. "I came across them and felt it suited your tastes."

He gave her a more open smile, then a wry grin as he reached for the box. "Maybe ye just like me. Same price, then?"

"No," she said, reaching out to stop his hand. With her fingers around his wrist, she moved to look into his eyes directly. "I have done you a great many favors, Athuuna. It is time you repaid those in turn."

"Or I could pay you extra," he replied lowly.

"No," she growled again, and this time dug the tips of her claws into his skin. "You owe me. Credits are good, but tit for tat is better. And don't forget..." She smiled at him, her tone growing sweeter. "... I know your secret. I can unleash it any time I like. To your masters or those who would consider you a defect worth removing."

He turned a shade paler, but glared as he removed his hand and set it on top of the box. "Threatenin' someone's not a good way to make friends, Majia."

"Join my crew. Come back to the fold."


He picked up the box and tucked it under his arm, leaving a chip behind which, Majia knew, contained the credits she had asked for. She frowned at it, flicking an ear irritably, as he started to walk away.

"Besides," he said, muted as she was turned away from him. "Yer a princess, not a starship captain, no matter what you call yourself. Like any other lazy slug on the Rim... Want to live in luxury and avarice without doin' the hard work for it. Don't have the spine. Metaphorically, in your case. Live off yer father's wealth and pretend to be a crime lord in yer spare time."

"I do not," she hissed, ears slicking back as she folded her arms again, staring at the cafe wall.

"Oh right, I'm sorry... Pretend to be some rough and tumble adventurer, living off the scum of the Rim and the seat of her flightsuit. Well, yer not either of those, Majia. Yer a spoiled brat tryin' to unspoil herself, and it's not going to happen if you expect everything to just fall into line and obey you. You want that? Join the Slaver's Guild."

"And serve someone else, or the glorious service of Zygerria, while pretending I have my freedom? No thank you."

He sighed, then kept walking. "I'll comm you when I have another item I'm lookin' for. If you get an operation more worthwhile together, then I'll consider it. Stay alive, Krallice."

She waited until his footsteps died away, then stood with an irritated growl and marched to the entrance. Her crewmates fell into line behind her, the thief giving her an open grin.

"Things didn't work out with you and yer boyfriend, captain?"

"Shut up," Krallice growled out. "We're cashing this chip and leaving. We have other jobs elsewhere."

"Yes, ma'am."

Holocrons and Info Nodes / Tales from House Taral
« on: 02/15/18, 08:21:15 AM »
(( I am starting to have reasons to start a thread for my Imperial sorts. These first few posts will be a repost of stories in other threads, to keep it all in one place. This one is from A Sith's Promise. ))

"--a moment, Lord Taral! Be still only a moment!'

The clipped, accented words of the medics faded in and out. Dzu had already killed one. He could see the medic's crumpled body on the far side of the tomb, where it lay among the stones where he'd thrown him. The other medics continued on, unfazed, as if this was as ordinary as anything else on the red, Sith-strewn planet. Every time they pressed him down, the Pureblood fought to get up, forgetting that he literally had only one leg to stand on now.

"I am going to kill him," he growled. "Let me up. I must finish what I started..."

"You are going nowhere," said the medic from before, focusing not on his glare, but on her work, as she stopped the remaining bleeding below his knee. "If you continue to struggle, I will sedate you."

"He is a thief!" Dzu protested, failing again, and clawing at the medic to get away from him. "A desecrator. I need to speak to whoever's left of the Dark Council--"

"Assistant, please give our Lord as powerful a narcotic as we can manage before he bleeds himself to death."

The assistant looked at her, stim gun in hand, shaking as he considered the idea. "Um- um--"

"Now, assistant, or I will let him at you."

Dzu continued to growl at the medic: "His master... on Malachor... he needs to be discipl--"

His voice trailed off as the assistant got the courage to stick him with the gun. The assistant very nearly got an armored glove to the face for his efforts, but it was enough to make the Sith Lord's tongue grow heavy and cease in the middle of speaking. He fell back, letting out a slow breath as he did.

This was madness. He knew it was madness. All the fury in the world was not going to hold his leg together, or stop him from dying in that tomb. That was not his training. And the world was beginning to finally spin. He let the medics go about their work, wordlessly.

Maybe that agent would help, he thought quietly. The Honor Guard was likely to simply mock him for his failure. What good was a Sith Lord who couldn't win a duel, let alone a Pureblood in the heart of Korriban, defending his people's relics?

"I'm going to kill him..." he muttered again, imprinting the image of the strange Sith into his mind. Did he catch his name? He didn't remember. But he had caught the name of his master, and a system, that was enough. He managed a a forced laugh, beginning to smile at the spinning ceiling of the tomb, keeping that thought close.

The medics exchanged looks.

"Is that something we should worry about?" the assistant mumbled.

"Shoot him with another vial," the lead medic said curtly, tying off her bandage.

The man nodded. The gun made a whining sound as it fired again by Dzu's ear, and darkness replaced the tomb.

Reminder that this is now on the calendar for the 26th! RSVPs are not necessary but will be welcome! Given outpost guards and faction stuff, I'll be posting a map to our starting gathering location, and may need someone Pubside to help with running and guiding people to where they need to go.

Events and Occasions / Re: Masquerade Ball The Second
« on: 02/14/18, 09:23:46 AM »
Just had the sad, sad realization that this would be a fun thing to bring Urziya too, but... Togruta can't wear headgear. :(

All of them, Noth. Bring all of them. All of them.

(Seriously I am starting the event early and will probably run it way into the night, so there will be plenty of time to bring multiple alts :) )

But she can't wear a mask! D: Still, might be a fun once-in-a-lifetime chance to see Urziya in something other than armor.

Events and Occasions / Re: Masquerade Ball The Second
« on: 02/13/18, 08:54:15 PM »
Just had the sad, sad realization that this would be a fun thing to bring Urziya too, but... Togruta can't wear headgear. :(

Cantina / Re: The Outfit Designer WIP Advice Thread
« on: 02/13/18, 06:06:39 PM »
I like the third one personally. Low-ranking Sith have plenty of reason to keep their armor on, since they make for easy targets should someone try to get to their superiors. Maybe use all three (four counting the hooded variant) situationally?

Events and Occasions / Re: Masquerade Ball The Second
« on: 02/12/18, 07:38:21 PM »
Yessssss I am excited! Sadly, I also want to bring everyone. Not all of whom have reasons to be there whatsoever. I will begin working on costumes!

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