Post by Taur Khaino on Jun 1, 2007 12:34:36 GMT -5
Hey peoples, this is one of the new guys. How goes? It's been awhile since I've done this, so forgive any rust. With that in mind....
Name: Taur Gk Khaino
Age: (Approx.) 23-ish
Race: Near-Human
Personality: Patient with the universe, and decidedly impatient with people, Khaino is maddeningly blunt, and insultingly direct. Shunning the act of reading, as "Lies given form in the written word are far too hard to discern from the fluff and rare bits of truth that are conveyed in any conversation for my liking," Khaino genuinely enjoys the in’s and out’s of grammar and speaking, and will drag out a conversation for as long as she can, often displaying a shocking depth and grasp of vocabulary and wordplay. Moving according to her own designs, she often pops up at the oddest times in the oddest places, and for no discernible reason other than ‘Why not?’, more often than not.
History: Gk Khaino’s homeworld was burnt to a cinder during one or another of the great upheavals that seem to constantly wrack the galaxy, leaving her stranded and alone among the burnt ruins of her home and family with nothing left. Surrounded on all sides by ruin and destruction, on the brink of madness and catatonia, Khaino’s latent Force abilities burst into bloom.
And there, teetering on the edge of madness, opened for the first time to the vastness of the galaxy and all it contained, she faced a decision. To succumb, and die, finding peace therein, or to withstand and fight, leading a life of turmoil, struggling between light and dark until the very last. All Force users find themselves at such crossroads at one point or another in their lives, and here the distinction between Jedi and Sith is created. At least, this is what the respective members of both orders are subconsciously taught during their training.
Outside the world of black and white, good and evil, however, lies another world of other colors and shades. And, moving throughout all these shades, colors, and worlds is the Force, which, above all else, seeks simply balance.
Khaino did not succumb, but nor did she fight. Instead, she accepted the strange intrusion of the Force into her, and flowed with it, becoming not a shaper of the force, but a vessel of it, acting according to It’s will and It’s Design, becoming It’s Fist in keeping the balance.
The Force then flung it’s new tool to space, using a passing Vaqx, a keeper of History, who, Having Sensed Khaino’s Awakening as he recorded the planets tragedy from aboard his ship, he did as the Force willed and landed in a shuttle to collect the child who had become Taur from the wasteland below.
Weapons (If any): Light sabers x5 (Red, purple, silver, blue, white), Light glaive (Black), Mandalorian dagger, tungsten flechettes x16
Sample RP, in character: (Three paragraphs or more, please)
She flowed through the star port’s airlock like a wisp of the infinite space beyond the fragile alloy skin of the massive structure, inscrutably there and yet, at the same time, not there, unreadably vast, and yet, as small as the pin-pricks of light that were scattered across the blackness of beyond. Watching her move was like watching space itself, incarnate in human form, flow through the space in the crowd that inevitably opened up before her queer presence.
She was tall, abnormally so for a Human or Near-Human, and much of that height were long, slender legs clad in pure white pants that were neither baggy nor tight. She wore an odd artifice for a shirt, a kind of tunic with long sleeves that were pulled around her back, wrapping her arms into immobility around her lower chest and pinning them into place inside the sleeves, while a long flap that ran down her crotch and up her buttocks was buckled securely into place at the back, holding the garment tightly to her slim frame and further reducing it’s mobility. In the age of modern medicine and science, the straight jacket would be neigh unrecognizable to any but a historian of the far, far distant past.
But, for all that she looked like she came from a low-gravity planet, she move high on the balls of her pale, bare feet, adding inch’s to her already tall stature. And this despite the chains that wrapped about her form, emanating from the ends of the long sleeves of the jacket and the shackles secured about her ankles, looping about her shoulders and torso, wrapping around her calves and thighs, seeming to bind her form to reality and weigh her down into existence, restricting the movement of her legs to a smooth, demure walk and binding her arms so tightly that they might as well not be there at all. If one cared to try to follow the confusing welter of chains close enough with their eyes, they’d find that all four ended in an odd, narrow cylinder, each having two knobs and a button. A closer examination would reveal some kind of tubing to be wrapped tightly around her narrow waist, it’s purpose unguessable.
And, finally, perched atop a neck as long and slender as the rest of the woman’s form was, presumably, her face, though this would be hard to tell because of the mask seemingly bound to it. Smoothly curved and cut out to fit the sinuous line of the human face, the aluminum plating of the alloys surface swirled in complex colors and patterns as the Force flowed through, anodizing it with vibrant colors in odd streaks and swirls, lines and stripes, curves and dots that flowed and changed as it’s wearer moods and thoughts did. The mask panned smooth back and forth, as if it’s wearer’s sense of vision was not impeded by it’s metallic mass, and the unkept mass of short, black, wiry hair rippled at the sudden motion and the slight movement of air created by the scrubbers and vents of the station.
Name: Taur Gk Khaino
Age: (Approx.) 23-ish
Race: Near-Human
Personality: Patient with the universe, and decidedly impatient with people, Khaino is maddeningly blunt, and insultingly direct. Shunning the act of reading, as "Lies given form in the written word are far too hard to discern from the fluff and rare bits of truth that are conveyed in any conversation for my liking," Khaino genuinely enjoys the in’s and out’s of grammar and speaking, and will drag out a conversation for as long as she can, often displaying a shocking depth and grasp of vocabulary and wordplay. Moving according to her own designs, she often pops up at the oddest times in the oddest places, and for no discernible reason other than ‘Why not?’, more often than not.
History: Gk Khaino’s homeworld was burnt to a cinder during one or another of the great upheavals that seem to constantly wrack the galaxy, leaving her stranded and alone among the burnt ruins of her home and family with nothing left. Surrounded on all sides by ruin and destruction, on the brink of madness and catatonia, Khaino’s latent Force abilities burst into bloom.
And there, teetering on the edge of madness, opened for the first time to the vastness of the galaxy and all it contained, she faced a decision. To succumb, and die, finding peace therein, or to withstand and fight, leading a life of turmoil, struggling between light and dark until the very last. All Force users find themselves at such crossroads at one point or another in their lives, and here the distinction between Jedi and Sith is created. At least, this is what the respective members of both orders are subconsciously taught during their training.
Outside the world of black and white, good and evil, however, lies another world of other colors and shades. And, moving throughout all these shades, colors, and worlds is the Force, which, above all else, seeks simply balance.
Khaino did not succumb, but nor did she fight. Instead, she accepted the strange intrusion of the Force into her, and flowed with it, becoming not a shaper of the force, but a vessel of it, acting according to It’s will and It’s Design, becoming It’s Fist in keeping the balance.
The Force then flung it’s new tool to space, using a passing Vaqx, a keeper of History, who, Having Sensed Khaino’s Awakening as he recorded the planets tragedy from aboard his ship, he did as the Force willed and landed in a shuttle to collect the child who had become Taur from the wasteland below.
Weapons (If any): Light sabers x5 (Red, purple, silver, blue, white), Light glaive (Black), Mandalorian dagger, tungsten flechettes x16
Sample RP, in character: (Three paragraphs or more, please)
She flowed through the star port’s airlock like a wisp of the infinite space beyond the fragile alloy skin of the massive structure, inscrutably there and yet, at the same time, not there, unreadably vast, and yet, as small as the pin-pricks of light that were scattered across the blackness of beyond. Watching her move was like watching space itself, incarnate in human form, flow through the space in the crowd that inevitably opened up before her queer presence.
She was tall, abnormally so for a Human or Near-Human, and much of that height were long, slender legs clad in pure white pants that were neither baggy nor tight. She wore an odd artifice for a shirt, a kind of tunic with long sleeves that were pulled around her back, wrapping her arms into immobility around her lower chest and pinning them into place inside the sleeves, while a long flap that ran down her crotch and up her buttocks was buckled securely into place at the back, holding the garment tightly to her slim frame and further reducing it’s mobility. In the age of modern medicine and science, the straight jacket would be neigh unrecognizable to any but a historian of the far, far distant past.
But, for all that she looked like she came from a low-gravity planet, she move high on the balls of her pale, bare feet, adding inch’s to her already tall stature. And this despite the chains that wrapped about her form, emanating from the ends of the long sleeves of the jacket and the shackles secured about her ankles, looping about her shoulders and torso, wrapping around her calves and thighs, seeming to bind her form to reality and weigh her down into existence, restricting the movement of her legs to a smooth, demure walk and binding her arms so tightly that they might as well not be there at all. If one cared to try to follow the confusing welter of chains close enough with their eyes, they’d find that all four ended in an odd, narrow cylinder, each having two knobs and a button. A closer examination would reveal some kind of tubing to be wrapped tightly around her narrow waist, it’s purpose unguessable.
And, finally, perched atop a neck as long and slender as the rest of the woman’s form was, presumably, her face, though this would be hard to tell because of the mask seemingly bound to it. Smoothly curved and cut out to fit the sinuous line of the human face, the aluminum plating of the alloys surface swirled in complex colors and patterns as the Force flowed through, anodizing it with vibrant colors in odd streaks and swirls, lines and stripes, curves and dots that flowed and changed as it’s wearer moods and thoughts did. The mask panned smooth back and forth, as if it’s wearer’s sense of vision was not impeded by it’s metallic mass, and the unkept mass of short, black, wiry hair rippled at the sudden motion and the slight movement of air created by the scrubbers and vents of the station.
