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February 2018
Feb 22: Jedi kNight (7:30 PST) + Council Meeting
Feb 23: Dancer's Palace 9pm PST
Feb 26: Return to Rishi - Indie Night (6:30)
Feb 26: Mare'cye'tuur - A Very Mando Winter Solstice (6:30


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Recent Posts

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Cantina / Re: The Outfit Designer WIP Advice Thread
« Last post by Noth on Today at 01:01:11 PM »
I already gave my two cents on the red and white outfit (it's awesome!!) but the blue does look better. Maybe keep both around? Blue can be a fancier armor for jobs with less environmental conditions, and the red can be for when she needs to run through dust storms or blend in a little more.
Events and Occasions / Re: Who Watches the Watch?
« Last post by Iaera on Today at 11:39:57 AM »
Bump! Reminder: If you want to participate in the discussion about the Watch, please sign up! Thank you!
Cantina / Re: The Outfit Designer WIP Advice Thread
« Last post by recoveringgeek on Today at 10:17:54 AM »
Which do you guys like better?

I like the glowing blue.
Add the Hat and can you find a Belt or Leggings that have a Tabard or other cloth-component to tie into the Hat? I know there are some great Cloth sash-style Belts?

Mix in some dyes and you might find a winner?
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Gutanamie
« Last post by Glimm on Today at 05:24:08 AM »
The one time life day droid bent over the ancient Rakatan etchings, ostensibly translating the mad scribble for his new master, but in reality listening to their always illogical conversation.

"Your droid is frozen again." Said the armor clad blaster wielding leader.

The Twileck padawan shook his head, "he's just thinking."

"Thinking? The droid is as crazy as you. We should never have rescued it from the derelict spaceship."

"You still think the crew was frozen in ice by this harmless celebration droid? That right there is crazy."

The armoured warrior turned to a shabby looking Jedi his master called master. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"You're taken my navigator, my artifacts, and after two months on this crazy planet, my sanity is fraying, where is the force tech?"


"Masters." Broke in the droid, "I have a translation!"

The sentients stopped arguing and turned to face the droid.

"It says this facility was designed to exult the Rakata above all races through the amalgamation of science and sorcery, they wanted to make themselves immortal by transferring their minds into the bodies of force wielding robots!"

The Jedi Master stepped forward, his face flushing red, "this is an abomination! We must destroy everything at once!"

The droid was just considering how best to kill him when his master stepped in, his lekku quivering, "no! This is knowledge, good or bad it must be preserved!"

Each sentient had its hand on its weapon. If the droid could have smiled it would have. Perhaps the foolish beings would conveniently kill each other.
Cantina / Re: The Outfit Designer WIP Advice Thread
« Last post by Sotekh on Today at 03:44:14 AM »
The very first set of armor I ever Just Had To Have (tm) in this game was the Gree scalene armor set.  I'd always pictured it on my first/primary BH char, Ar'elo:

Thing is, I've really come to like the outfit below, especially the hat.  I've loved this hat on her since I first got it years ago.  I've tailored multiple outfits around this hat, including this one, my favorite.  I like the way the cloth hat goes with the "scarf" element on the armor.  I've got Mako done in a matching color scheme, using Commander Viszla's armor (mostly). 

I've been thinking of going with the blue scalene, but if I do that, I have to dye Mako's armor blue/black to match.  The scalene has going for it that it's blue, like her, doesn't look Mandalorian (she's not), and it's glowy, and that amuses me; but the red has the magic hat, and looks/is more individualized. 

Which do you guys like better?
Cantina / Re: The Outfit Designer WIP Advice Thread
« Last post by Sotekh on 02/20/18, 10:30:04 PM »
Still working on getting around to doing Star Fortresses for the Conquered Exarch Meditation gloves, but here's what she looks like now, with the Hallowed Gothic gloves and new hair:

A better shot of the gloves themselves:

Thanks for the tip; I really like these gloves, and had no idea they even existed!

Edit: fixed image links.
Holocrons and Info Nodes / Re: One Good Thing
« Last post by Auryn on 02/19/18, 08:41:03 PM »

“Teach me,” She called forward for the umpteenth time, keeping good pace along the rain-mudded hills.

“Go home,” His advice hadn’t changed, and he hadn’t once looked back.


As was proper ceremony, Hazaly stood between the two rows of stacked pyres with torch in hand, freshly waxed drum clung over over front. Down out of the trees, with how times had been, the Ashen were nervous, huddled against the treeline in the growing darkness with two dozen torches among them. Drizzle fell from the gathering clouds, but it would not be enough to stop the fires. Distant thunder made the hounds tug nervously at their leashes.

She was the oldest, of all those left but one, and Hagar was too old and frail to carry out the rite. The others were children, one clinging to the old man’s left side and two to his other. Hazaly glanced over her shoulder towards them and offered the hollow comfort of a small smile before she tugged down her mask.

Decorated with raven feathers and bleached bones, the nose fashioned into a sharp beak from the ivory of a ballow’s trunk, the mask covered all but her mouth and chin. Ravens were Hella’s birds; hers which turned into the ethereal Heldottirs, who could come to collect the fallen tribe of the Norden Fjals upon hearing Hazaly’s call.

The Mannligr hadn’t left. Despite the attitude of impassiveness he’d tried so well to impress upon her, he had come as close to the service as was allowed, leaning against a distant oak, in the shadows. Even from so far, she could feel that sick crawling beneath her skin. A few of the elders swore at his presence.

Valhashra came forth, her thumb dipped in blood to stroke across the wide mask. “Do you know the words?” She whispered, as she leaned in to paint the runes.

Hazaly nodded quietly, and the shaman stepped back.

Once the first pyre was lit, the girl began a slow pace forward, punctuating each footfall with the still-flaming torch beaten against the drum.

“Kven skal syn-ge meg…”


“You’re goin’ off te kill the Seiðr,” She said knowingly, jogging to catch up with a hand pressed to her still-healing side, “Y’can’t get ‘er on ye own, I’m tellin’ ya. Each one o’ us she kills she gets stronger, an’ she just took the souls o’ nearly me whole tribe.”

Go home, Hazaly.” Well, at least he’d bothered to learn her name at some point.

“You need me-- Oddgrimr’s bung eye, ye need the whole bloody lot o’ Norden tribes if ye stand a chance!”

He didn’t reply; Hazaly doubled her efforts to reach his side, wincing against the sudden incline of the foothill and her boots sliding on the fresh mud, pain sliding in between her cracked ribs like a knife. She couldn’t figure this one out. He had saved her, carried her all the way to the Ashen if her friends were to be believed; but had since shown very little interest in any of them. Almost as though the act had been nothing more than a passing thought, idle distraction, not basic empathy.

Given the darkness pulsing around him, had he not already done one good thing, Hazaly would’ve assumed the Mannligr a creature of the dark Seiðr herself. As it stood, for all she knew, he was, and experiencing a moment of rebellion. She huffed out a frustrated breath, and continued on. He still held her curiosity fast and deadly in-hand.

“Valhashra won’ teach me the Force! An’ my tribe’s shamaness is dead! I can help! You can help me help them!”

“You can’t help,” He drawled, “her power is beyond you.”

“What makes you so special?” She snapped.

His pace faltered, as though the question had hit a nerve. Hazaly stumbled to a stop, gnawing nervously on her lip as she felt a rippled of emotion roll off his shoulders. Anger? No… something closer to regret, and bitter on the tongue.

“Nothing.” He said eventually, shaking her from the worry. There was that sadness again, the one beneath the layers of illness that tugged hard at her heartstrings, and it told the girl despite warnings from all her other senses, that she could trust him. That he wouldn’t hurt her.

“Your people… the ones who tell you I am cursed,” his pale, green-hued eyes fixed on her fiercely, causing the girl to question that very notion of trust she’d just grabbed for, “You should listen to them.”


Hazaly’s voice wavered just a little as those of the Ashen tribe rose in the second verse, thought she didn’t miss a beat on the drum. Acolytes of the shamaness came out from the crowd first, masks down, singing in tandem. One stroked her fingers along the inside of a metal bowl, around and around, creating an eerie metallic hum to join the beats.

“Hvem skal synge meg,”

Who shall sing me…?

Once they reached the end of the first line of pyres, others were permitted to join. Arn, the old man, tugged gently on the children at his sides, urging them they had to participate in this show of strength so that their brothers, sisters and parents could join the rest of their ancestors.

“I daudsvevna slynge meg,”

Into the death sleep, sling me,

Tears streamed down Hazaly’s face. She wondered if each time she had watched a funeral ceremony, the one she had thought marched so stoic and brave between the flames also cried beneath the mask. Maybe, she thought, that was it’s purpose. Remaining strong for others on the outside, while mourning within their masks of death.

“Når eg på Helvegen går.”

When I walk on the Path of Death.


“Are you a Jedi? A Sith? Neither?”


“That inn't an answer!”

“It is, if you use your head.”

Hazaly came to an abrupt halt. She was heavily out of breath, unable to catch back the gasps she’d exerted, and tired. Should have been back with the Ashen, resting. At this rate, they would be halfway into the Shamaness’ territory by nightfall, unless he struck east along the foothills towards Oddrheim.

“All o' them. You’ve been Jedi an’ Sith an’ now you’re neither.”

“Good,” he nodded, so far ahead now that she could barely hear his hoarse, softly spoken manner, “go home.”

“I don’t… have a…” Hazaly slumped to the ground.



The song was loud now, as the entire gathering walked down through the channel they had created. It ran forward through rows, from the tips of the forest that was the Ashen home, sliding along within the valley between the mountains of the Fjallr, echoing off the old stone as though the voices of the dead had also joined them.

“Og dei spora eg trår er kalda, så kalda…”

And the tracks I tread are cold, so cold.


They had been sitting around the fire in glum silence for a while now, having set camp almost exactly where she'd fallen, though a little down-slope out of the wind. She was grumpy that he’d saved her again, but not quick enough to avoid a nasty bump on the head, which she nursed with some poultice from a pouch on her belt. It was a mild night for this area of the range, oddly mild, but the Mannligr sat only just shy of the fire, rubbing his hands close to the flame as if desperate for its warmth.

“Are ye cold?” She asked, shifting to offer the blanket that she’d woken up on. This climate was her own, the mountains the crib she’d been born in. She only felt the cold in the deep of winter, or when the winds blew down from the polar region with bitter frost riding atop them.

“I’m always cold,” He said, with a shrug. The dark, orange-rimmed shadows cast on his pale face made the sickness in him even more apparent.

Hazaly folded her legs beneath her and sat up, her back straight as a rod. “That from yer curse?”

The corner of his lip twitched in mocking - she was uncertain whether it was aimed at her, or inwards. “Something like that.”

“What kinda--”

“Do you ever stop talking?” He snapped. His glare pierced her across the tops of the flames.

Hazaly merely grinned, and said “Nope,” and--

In that moment it remind him of a far different girl with dark skin and violet eyes with that same retention of innocence through hardship. It reminded him of so many people, and the way they had smiled at him, and the way he had ultimately let all of them down in one way or another. It reminded him of the spaces between the pain, memories that had been intensely eroded with time and corruption, bubbling to the surface.

He could have hated her for that.


The stranger turned from her, and folded on the ground with his back to the fire. She could see his silhouette against the dark still trembling from the chill, and thought perhaps he’d had enough of her for the evening and was settling down to rest. She didn’t see the way he clutched his heart with gritted teeth, struggling not to cry out, nails digging into his chest as though desperate to try and rip an invasion from his body.

“You don’t want me to teach you,” he said finally, strained, but the pain expertly covered within layers of exhaustion. “You think you do, but I don’t have anything to offer you… nothing good, at least.”

Hazaly hummed softly with disagreement, propping her chin on both fists. “I think you’re wrong, Mannligr.”

He huffed bitterly. “And why is that?”

“Well,” She started, sounding incredulous herself, “the Seiðr o' me tribe never did. The basics, o’ course, like everyone, but she never took me on fer the shamaness’ path. She said the Gods had told her I was meant fer someone else, that it wasn’ her place te practise me'n the Force.” Her bright blue eyes, dim in the night-time, fell to watch the flames between them.

“She said I was never meant te be a Seiðr. So I thought maybe f’you were a Jedi… or a Sith, or neither or all,” she added to the end, with the ghost of hope.

She expected him to snap at her again. Another ‘go home’, another warning. Nothing. Maybe he was asleep already, bored of her talk and her persistence. Hazaly half-supposed that if she went down for the night, she would wake up to a damp firepit on her own, never to see him again.

She gave a small sigh, took the coarse wool blanket and curled up beneath it. Someone from the Ashen tribe must have given or traded it over before the Mannligr had left, for it smelled of the tree-leaf oils they used to seal their wood and skins there. An axe - not hers, lost to the torn ground where her tribe had once been - was clutched in one hand, shield set against her back. Sleeping upright wasn’t her ideal, but she could manage it, and it meant if he tried to leave without her in the morning, she’d be more likely to awaken.

Far from thinking she'd get anything close to an answer, Hazaly murmured tiredly to the darkness, “y’said… y’came here te die. Is that why yer seekin’ the dark Seiðr? Die in glorious battle 'gainst her?” Her slender eyebrows raised at that. For word of the witch to have left the surface of their world, her deathly power must have been infamous. Maybe, if any of them were lucky, the off-world hunters had put a bounty on her head-

“I… dreamed of this place.”

The girl gasped softly. If any time he could have ignored her and gotten away with it, that would’ve been one. Even so, the surprise was short lived, part of her expecting the response, the touch of vulnerability. He would never have let her come this far if he wasn’t prepared to entertain her to some extent. What that connection was, she didn’t know or understand… but Hazaly wasn’t so lacking in ability that she didn’t recognise the pull of the Force, bringing them together.

So for once, she remained quiet her breath hanging nervously in the air - a quiet that urged him to continue.

“I dreamed of these mountains, of your Seidr’s ugly power and its capabilities…” She watched the mound of him shift under the blanket.

“... and of you, for some reason. Don't think I saved you out of some misplaced empathy... you just have a part to play in this," This time as he moved, she saw the muscles in his neck strained against some hidden pain,

"and I am done trying to fight the will of the Force, for all the good it's done me.”

Hazaly felt her heart skip a beat with fervent excitement. She swallowed it down.

“The Seidr won’t cure you, daufi,” She said instead, “havencha been payin’ attention? She…”

The words died on her lips. Came here to die. Of course.

“Why?” She demanded softly, after an uneasy silence. “Why does it need te be her?”

Hazaly didn’t feel the cold easily. The night still felt mild, to her. But the words that followed chilled her to the bone, the weight of them making her clutch the blanket closer.

“Because I need to make sure it sticks, this time.”


“Døyr fe, døyr frender,”

Cattle die, friends die,

“Døyr sjølv det sama,”

You yourself will also die,

All the pyres were lit. The drum, finally covered with flame from each beat of sorrow it had been given, had been set atop the final one, central to the two rows, just before it would have burnt Hazaly’s fingers to clutch. Atop it stood another mask - the one of her own tribe’s shamaness, her wrapped body beneath it.

By the end of the long song, all the other voices which had joined her fell away, leaving her own, wobbling with cold and mourning.

“Eg veit et som aldreg døyr…”

I know one that never dies…



Hazaly’s eyes fluttered. She had almost been asleep. The fire was in embers. “Hmn…?”

“I can start training you tomorrow. Just don't expect much.”

Her lips curled into a smile against her knees.
Outside Realm / Re: Video Game OST Appreciation Thread
« Last post by SquigglyV on 02/19/18, 07:41:41 PM »
The best Command and Conquer game has some of the least interesting music. It works really well in-game of course, but it's just kinda boring to listen to elsewhere. Idk how that happened, lol.

The short victory/loss themes are all pretty neat though! Even if they're only 20 seconds long, and you barely hear half of that in-game anyway. If I had a superpower, it would be to magically get extended versions of short tracks like these. :P

Mourning Hour (Loss) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mLKXzSDa3_U
Guilty Pleasure (Nod/Scrin victory) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SEJuvaf2Otk
Blue Glory (GDI victory) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pQK1XsjiZbw
Bleak Twilight (Kane's Wrath campaign victory) : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WYj_DI1ZOc

And on the subject of C&C, I hope everyone knows about Renegade X. It's an amazing fan remake of the original Renegade in the Unreal Engine, and it's been given the green light by EA to exist. And it has tick tanks, walkers, attack bikes, and hover MRLs too. It is a thing.
Events and Occasions / Re: Return to Rishi - Indie Night V3
« Last post by Noth on 02/19/18, 07:07:14 PM »
Another Monday, another Rishi Night. This week's randomized theme is...

Gorge Hollow Barbeque! Picnic on tropical grasses and under sunny palms! Like the beach party, but a different location.

Head north up the main path until you hit the Trader's Market, turn left into the Old City, and continue west past the Blaster's Path cantina. Head through West Town past the buildings into the tropical grove.

Or, if you already have the location unlocked, use the Shuttle Transport straight to the Blaster's Path cantina, then head west up the road until you pass the buildings and hit greenery.

See you there!

Reminder that this is beginning! Ask for Urziya Impside or Taelios Pubside if you need a signal beacon to get there.
Cantina / Re: Make a (fashion) statement
« Last post by Auryn on 02/19/18, 06:53:45 PM »
Oh wow, that is gorgeous @Mei !
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