A massive cataclysm has struck the universe, and destroyed most everything in its wake. The survivors are now trying to pick up the pieces, and figure out exactly what has befallen them. Gather together, lightsiders!! The darkness has shattered the peace and calm of the galaxy...and they will do anything to stop anyone from finding out exactly what has been done! This is our first sitewide RP plotline. Lightsiders, you are looking for the source of this massive event. Clues must be found, lackeys tracked down, and bits of memory discovered. Darksiders, you guys don't want that to happen....because of the one behind the whole thing is furthering his ultimate goal. Mandalorians, and non-force users, you guys can decide where you stand on this line....do you side with the Jedi, and try to discover the reasons behind the ruined universe, or will you side with the darkness, and protect those secrets. Will the secret of the cataclysmic reaping be kept under wraps? Or will the Jedi and their allies find out the truth? Your RP and writing will decide the outcome!
BATTLE ARENA
Welcome to The Saga Continues. We have a section called the Battle Arena. Here you can use your characters to fight other characters. Hone your skills and see what you are made of. Don't worry, anything that happens here, does not effect your characters in posts, so if your character dies, you can still use them over and over. Have fun and check it out!
The Saga Continues is the product of the mind of ADMIN ADI; all contents are copyright their original owners. All characters belong to their original creators, and may not be used or replicated without permission. All images are copyright their original owners. This skin Operation Mindcrime was made by pharaoh leap of Pixel Perfect and put together by ADMIN KRYSTAL
Azrayl didn't acknowledge the splicer as he threw himself into the co-pilots seat and began his impromptu monologue. Yet, despite Azrayl's distant and seemingly unconscious gaze into the void - he had listened to every word. He couldn't help it. It was instinct on Umbara to overhear every conversation at the table beside your own. Even now, when the weight of the galaxy seemed to be resting on his shoulders...he couldn't turn it off.
Humor. Arrogance. Azrayl dissected the splicer's words effortlessly, his mind inserting words into one end and churning out the perfect response on the other. His own feelings searched the aura he felt the man exerting - tapping into the sixth sense that always nagged the back of his mind. Definitely arrogance - but lacking maliciousness. He enjoys the banter....he can tell I'm upset...
After the conversation had hung in the air for a long few seconds, Azrayl finally turned to face the man. His focus seemed soft, but his eyes darted around the man's body in quick jerks as he took in the physical language that other species made all too easy to pick-up on. Oddly relaxed for talking to his employer. The way he lounges...flirtatious maybe?
After a quick dissection of his own words, he became the most beneficial version of himself he could muster, "I would have delighted at the opportunity to study under someone talented enough to work the factory machines."
soften your stare. Unfold your arms for openness. Tilt head to on 'someone' to indicate him - stir his ego.
He played out his part perfectly, adding a smile with the tilt of his head to appear more friendly, "Unfortunately, a plague seems to have - in case you weren't aware - eliminated all potential masters in the subject."
Tilt head away. Smirk to give impression of flirtation. Tilt head upward to exude confidence in your banter. It would be wise to end with a match of wit - indicate to him that it his time to speak.
Azrayl Ventus was a fool and a traitor - but he'd rather live a traitor and die a fool than exist another day as the disappointment he had been three weeks ago. His father had tried to tell him then just as he had every day prior. "Credits and power mean nothing. Both fade away just as easily as your last breath." It'd taken Azrayl thirty-seven years to understand what his father had been trying to tell him and now, it seemed like it almost didn't matter. His father died trying to accomplish his goals, it seemed inevitable that Azrayl would meet the same fate.
Quietly, his golden eyes stared out from hollow sockets - pools of molten gold simmering in pitch colored pots. And, just like forge steam, the memories hung over his distant gaze. It'd taken days to get from Umbara to Skako and every morning, without fail, he had come to the bridge and meditated in front of the spiraling chaos of Hyperspace. He wouldn't mumble or whisper, nor would he acknowledge the servant droids when they hobbled up from the lounge area to offer refreshment. He'd just sit, think and be alone. By now that austereness must have fit him like a cloak - if it hadn't already before.
There was a reason, after all, that most other races saw Umbarans as dreadfully dull and melancholic creatures.
Thankfully on this trip he was spared the usual groveling of other species over his demeanor - at least somewhat. There was still one other organic onboard, but it was far better than the horde of others he was so tired of. His father had been prone to inviting parties of assorted origin on long ventures whenever he could. Azrayl always supposed it had something to do with trying to expand his diplomatic notoriety. That and because one thing Umbarans distrusted more than other people, was other Umbarans. To invite another onto the ship was to invite espionage, sabotage and assassination.
Azrayl's throat tightened. Death. It still clung to the air and no scrubber, purifier or rinsing would ever get it out. Pulling the stringy vines of white hair back over his jacket collar, Azrayl leaned forward and massaged the sting from his eyes with open palms. Pulling them away, he dried the tears on his pants and took to the pilot's display. His fingers danced across the screen, pulling away screens of useless information until finally arriving at a map of the galaxy - where the ship's position as marked by a glowing triangle on a narrow strip of white.
A few hours more and they'd finally be back on solid ground. Back on track to make his father's dream a reality. Even if the rest of the Council did into agree with his leaving.
There had been few things his father was able to leave him. The retrofitted relic he sat in now was one of them. A man of historical appreciation his father always was and would be remembered as. When he had first gotten this Dynamic-Class Freighter, it was barely holding together. Now it was as pearl white and immaculate as if it had been pulled directly from the assembly line and right through time.
The second thing he'd left was a dream and the means to realize it. As far as Umbara was concerned, he could climb no higher. That was all because of his father.
In return, Azrayl had only one thing to offer to his memory.
The last - and as far as he could remember, the only - promise he had ever made.
Rank: Sire of the Rootai [Chairman of the Umbaran Ruling Council]
*Premier of Baktoid Automata
Species: Umbaran
Age: 37
Sex: Male
Height: 5'10
Weight: 172lbs
Eye Color: Gold Pupil / Black Iris
Hair Color: Silver White
Skin Tone: White Pallor
Force Sensitive: Mild Natural Force Sensitivity
The Shadow People: Umbara is a world of perpetual twilight - a realm of shadows and its equally mysterious inhabitants. Azrayl was born in these shadows and has learned to play the dangerous game of intrigue that rules the very lives within them. He and his father obtained the family caste of Rootai together and now, as the head of his family, Azrayl can call himself a true master of intrigue with the whole of The Shadow People - and their deadly talents - at his disposal.
The Twilight Melody: Passed down through the Ventus family since the years preceding the Clone Wars, the Twilight Melody is a Songsteel Longsword that has been maintained throughout the decades. During the Clone Wars, Azrayl's ancestors were trained in the use of Makashi by Count Dooku prior the invasion of Umbara to assist them in better combating Jedi. This practice has evolved since then - culminating in "The Shadowdance" a Makashi hybrid aimed at defeating Force Users and NFUs alike in close combat. Azrayl carries the Twilight Melody and is a Shadowdance Practitioner.
Realpolitik: Azrayl, while an ambitious and ideologically driven individual, knows that the galaxy is based on objective factors and the rule of power. Realism and pragmatism must be considered in order to bring about the ideological change he wishes to pursue. To this end, he is careful to not let his ideological feelings overwhelm him - always analytical and careful in his political moves.
The Toll of Shadows: Umbara is a place of vast intrigue - everyone is always looking to get ahead and advanced their own station. Assassinations, political sabotage and blackmail are commonplace in their society and so there will never be a shortage of enemies for Azrayl. If there is ever someone looking to end his career, or life, Umbara will surely provide.
The Graves Left Behind: As is the nature of Umbara, Azrayl completes his goals by getting entangled in politics - down to the very roots of some of the most dangerous organizations. This is a two-fold situation. While he can pull many strings - he is willing to burn bridges and step on the backs of others to get to his goals. This means that he tends to create animosity in his wake.
From the Darkness: Umbaran's excel in ambushes and stealth - they are not accustomed to wars and battles fought on equal footing. Thusly, Azrayl is not a man who is best suited for confrontations on fair ground. Worse yet, he is not best suited for firing blasters and the like. Trickery and sly footing in his only ally in a fight.
Azrayl's white hair glows an almost spiritual white and his gold eyes contrast heavily against his ghostly pale skin. His teeth are pearl white, unnaturally so for a man oh his age as if he hasn't eaten a single thing or missed a day of cleaning in his life.
Keeping with his people's views on prestige, class and power, Azrayl is never seen in public without clothing that highlights his wealth, power and authority. To highlight this, he clothes himself in a Shadowcloak jacket - embroidered with a design of ancient Umbaran emblems that run down the length of the cloth. A smooth to the touch Vine-Silk shirt is worn under the jacket, it's edges lined in white and buttoned by white buttons with a high collar lined with Armor-weave protecting his neck. Keeping with his desires, he chooses to wear embroidered durasteel armor plates on his chest that are embedded with a Sein Jewel which glows with a radiant orange-red shimmer.