I'm a writer who enjoys listening to good music (which, to me, is most anything by Hans Zimmer, Howard Shore, and a few other artists who create similar music). I also love playing video games, mostly keeping to single-player RPGs (Dragon Age [Origins] and Skyrim). I do however occasionally play PlanetSide 2, but that's the extent of my multiplayer experience. I'm also part of a Star Wars RPG taking place on this site, mainly because I like Star Wars and I love creating stories. If you're reading this and you like Star Wars, I recommend trying it out to see how you like it. And that's about it. Now go do better things with your time, as I'm sure there are better things to do than read up on the profile of a teen with too much time on his hands. Good day!
"Come on, let's move!" Carth shouted at the Republic soldiers as they rushed towards the bridge, only a few steps ahead of the pursuing Sith boarding party. "I'll cover you! Get inside!"
The armored Republic soldiers turned around and made a dash for the open blast door Carth was waiting at. The soldier had unholstered his two blaster pistols and was firing madly down the hallway, trying to slow the advance of the Sith. The hostile soldiers took cover as a hail of blaster bolts met them; several of the Sith soldiers were brought down by the barrage, but the rest took cover until it was safe.
"Get inside, hurry!" Carth growled as the soldiers made it through the entryway. "Seal this damn door!" he ordered to one of the officers on the bridge. A few of the unwounded Republic soldiers turned and helped Carth provide covering fire against the Sith, using the entryway as cover. However, they could not completely halt the Sith advance, and the silver armor of the enemy grew closer and closer.
The door shuddered and started to close, but before it did, Carth saw a trio of thermal detonators roll through. His eyes widened and his breath caught as he expected the detonation, but instead, a rush of wind blew past him and sent the three detonators through the closing door and into the advancing Sith lines, where they detonated, five soldiers vanishing in the blinding light of the explosion. The door finally closed, sealed.
Carth relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks," he said, turning to the Jedi, whose Force wave had sent the thermal detonators into the Sith forces. She was young, but her posture was confident, her eyes controlled, not giving away any emotions. In her right hand was a long lightsaber hilt, with two emitters at either end.
"You're welcome," she replied before looking around. The floor creaked and the room shuddered as the Endar Spire continued to take damage. "We need to get off this ship."
"Agreed," Carth said. "That door won't hold the Sith for long." He turned to three Republic soldiers. "You three, take commander Shan to the escape pods. Her safety is of the highest priority."
The three saluted. "Yes sir!"
Carth turned to the Jedi. "I'm staying here to coordinate the defenses. We'll hold long enough for you to get off."
The Jedi's eyes narrowed. "Have I no say in this? I will not be forced to abandon my men!"
"Everyone on this ship swore an oath to protect you," Carth growled. "A lot of good men lost their lives, and a lot more will die within the hour. But we're all here to keep you safe. Don't you dare make our sacrifice in vain by letting the Sith capture you. Now get out of here!"
The Jedi clenched her teeth, but her posture relaxed. "Very well. Let's move." The three Republic soldiers accompanied her to the other entrance to the bridge, which led the way to the ship's escape pods. "Good luck, Carth," she muttered before leaving the bridge.
"Thanks," Carth replied, more to himself than to her, before turning to the door. A low hiss was beginning to emanate from it, and Carth suspected the Sith were trying to burn through the blast door. "Alright," he said. "Let's get ready!"
The soldiers moved into defensible positions, using bridge consoles as cover. The Endar Spire rumbled again as the Sith did more and more damage. "Sir, shields dropping below 20 percent!" one of the bridge officers warned.
"Take the engines offline," Carth ordered. "The ship's going down anyways. Transfer that power to shields. All other system power save life support I want going to weapons and targeting. Clear a path for those escape pods."
"Aye aye," the officer responded, doing as bidden.
"Let's kick some ass," Aaron said, equipped with all of his gear. He didn't like the idea of following Trask, an obviously new recruit with way to much self-imposed authority, but he figured that the soldier could be useful in helping him off the ship.
"We should stick together," Trask advised. "We'll have more success in a group than on our own."
My thoughts exactly, Aaron muttered to himself. He nodded and they left the room, immediately coming to a closed blast door. "Can you open this?" Aaron asked the Republic soldier.
"Yeah," he replied, sliding an access card through the control panel on the side. "The ship's in emergency lockdown, but I've got the access codes to override the locks. That should do it."
The blast door opened into a hallway where Aaron saw a Republic soldier fighting against a pair of silver-armored Sith troops. The soldier didn't last long out in the open, and before Trask or Aaron could assist, the trooper went down.
"These Sith must be the advanced boarding party!" Trask growled. "For the Republic!" He pulled out a blaster pistol and opened fire, using the blast door entryway as cover from the Sith. His shots missed their targets as his they took cover, but he was able to keep them suppressed. Aaron stayed back, formulating a plan; the Sith believed they were fighting a single Republic soldier, and he would use this to his advantage.
"Cover me," Aaron ordered, activating his stealth field generator and grabbing his pistol. Trask nodded and opened fire, forcing the Sith to retreat to cover. Aaron quickly covered the width of the hallway, invisible, and took cover opposite Trask. He looked once through his scope, sighting one of the Sith taking cover. A laser dot on the pistol shined on the side of the Sith's helmet. Aaron fired thrice, each shot hitting the Sith in the head, killing him.
At the same time, Trask managed to get in a lucky hit with his blaster pistol, maiming the other Sith soldier. Aaron rushed forwards, his cloak abandoned, and finished the trooper off with a shot to the head. Before the group could move on, both soldiers heard a beeping from their pockets. They both pulled out their personal communicators, devices handed out to all of the Republic soldiers on the ship.
"This is Carth Onasi. The Sith are threatening to overrun our position! We can't hold out long against their firepower! All hands to the bridge!"
"That was Carth on our personal communicators," Trask said.
No shit, idiot, Aaron muttered to himself, rolling his eyes; he wasn't a fan of people stating the obvious.
"If he says things are bad, we'd better believe it," Trask continued. "We need to get to the bridge and help any way we can!"
As long as I can get to the escape pods from there, Aaron thought. Still, at the same time, he figured that meeting up with the rest of the soldiers could give them a better change of making it off of the ship. "Let's move, then," he said, nodding to Trask. The soldier moved forward, coming to another blast door.
"This door's locked," Trask growled, sliding his access card through the panel to the side of the door, "and I don't have the codes to open it."
"Move," Aaron ordered, brushing past the soldier and accessing the security panel. After a brief moment, the holographic interface flashed and the lock disengaged, the door sliding open. That's how we do things, Aaron thought, glad to make use of his security skills.
"Get down!" Trask shouted, diving for one side of the entryway. Aaron did the same, barely avoiding a blaster bolt. He peeked out of the corner and saw a pair of Sith soldiers laying down suppressive fire on the two of them.
"Trask!" Aaron called, catching the soldier's attention. "Take the one on my side! I'll take the one on yours! On my mark!" The soldier nodded and Aaron readied his pistol. He waited for an opportunity, a break in the blaster fire. The stream paused for a second, and Aaron made the call. "Now!"
He leaned out of cover, his laser sight shining in the visor of his target. One shot downed the Sith soldier. At the same time, Trask fired a barrage at his target, hitting him several times in the torso and killing him as well. "Good call," the soldier said, moving into the room with Aaron.
"We've got to keep moving," Aaron replied, ignoring the compliment. "Get that door." Trask nodded and examined the access panel. The door was locked like the last one, but Trask figured he could bypass the lock easily enough, as Aaron had. While the soldier worked, Aaron took notice of a small footlocker on one side of the room. He approached and lifted the lid with his foot, kicking the cover open. Inside were three thermal detonators and a short sword similar to the one belted to his hip.
Aaron knelt down, deftly pocketing the thermal detonators. He picked up the short sword and gave it a few swings, nodding in approval at its light weight and good balance. He unsheathed his other blade and practiced for a moment using both weapons at once. Confident in his abilities, he decided to use both of the weapons, belting the new sword to his hip opposite his old one. "Trask, you done yet?" Aaron asked. Or do you need help from a real slicer?
"I've got it," Trask replied, even as the door slid open. The two heard blaster fire ahead. "We'd better get ready," Trask muttered. For once, Aaron agreed completely with the soldier, checking again the sights of his blaster pistol.
This is a new project I'm working on. It will be updated semi-regularly until I get bored with it, which will hopefully not be until it's completed. I'm sure that many of you will find this a familiar story; I feel very inclined to tell my version of it. If you figure you know what's going to happen, please try and avoid spoiling the story for anyone else who may possibly be reading. With all of that being, said, good day, and enjoy!
"My Lord," a maroon-skinned Twi'lek officer, garbed in a fine grey uniform adorned with medals that glinted in the light of the Praetor's bridge, said, catching the attention of the dark figure gazing through the observation window. "I have news."
The figure did not turn. A long, dark cloak obscured his figure, a hood completing the visage; the man, if even what was hidden in that shell of cloaks and armors could even be called a man, was forgotten, his face lost to time. Against the backdrop of the stars in front of him, he was small, his stature hardly intimidating. Yet at the same time, there was an air about him, an aura of unmatched authority and power.
He said nothing, continuing to watch the dim stars. Finally, the built-up tension in the air broke as the figure spoke, his voice quiet, yet powerful, filling the vast bridge of the warship. "I trust your reasons for interrupting me are adequate, Admiral. I have no time for trivialities."
"This is no triviality, my Lord," the Admiral replied, standing erect as he prepared his well-rehearsed report. "Our scouts have detected a Republic force gathering not an hour's hyperspace jump away. We do not know their purpose, but we believe they are planning an attack of some kind, though I do not know what targets they would have their gazes set upon."
The figure stood for a moment, in thought. "Tell the scouts to remain where they are. Do not engage the enemy; merely observe."
"My Lord?" the Admiral asked, not understanding, "do you not expect them to attack?"
The figure replied, his back still turned on his subordinate. "There are few areas of strategic importance in this area, if any at all. I do not take the Republic admirals for fools; in fact, I know many of them. There is some other scheme at work here. A trap, perhaps, but for what, I do not know. My fascination now is with finding out." The figure thought for a moment before continuing, "I want you to send a message, Admiral."
"As you wish, my Lord," the Twi'lek replied. "What is the message?"
The figure waited a moment before replying. "Order all available ships to rendezvous with the Praetor and the Leviathan. They have one hour to respond, and then we will move forward."
"Surely you do not mean to attack the Republic fleet, my Lord?" the Admiral questioned. immediately regretting the action. "F-forgive-"
"I do mean to attack the Republic, Admiral," the figure cut him off. "Do you have concerns?" his voice was not threatening, but genuinely curious.
"It's just," the Admiral chose his words carefully and slowly, "did you not say that this was a trap?"
"It is, undoubtedly, a trap," the figure replied with confidence, "and we shall press them into springing it. They are baiting us, yes, but I suspect they are not fully prepared for an attack. If we strike now, we may catch them off-guard and force them to resort to whatever plan they have been preparing. Now give the order for the fleet to assemble."
The Admiral bowed low, despite the fact that the figure still had his back turned to him. "As you command, Lord Revan."
A sharp rumble jarred Aaron to consciousness, his eyes snapping open. A tremor caused him to jolt from the bunk he had been sleeping in; he looked around, trying to figure out what was happening. The blast door in front of him opened, a soldier garbed in a suit of red and black Republic armor quickly stepping through. His face showed some relief to see Aaron, but it soon turned to urgency.
"We've been ambushed by a Sith battle fleet!" he warned.
Oh shit, Aaron immediately thought, knowing fully well what the Sith were capable of.
"The Endar Spire's under attack!" the soldier continued, interrupting Aaron's thoughts. "Hurry up, we don't have much time!"
Who the hell is this sod? Aaron growled in his head, inwardly bristling at this soldier who expected to order him around. "Who are you?"
"I'm Trask Ulgo, ensign of the Republic fleet," the soldier replied, as if the title had been rehearsed a dozen times over. "I'm your bunk-mate. We work opposite shifts, which is probably why you haven't seen me before. Now hurry up, we have to find Bastila. We have to make sure she makes it off this ship alive!"
Bastila's a damn Jedi, Aaron thought. She's more than capable of handling herself. "Shouldn't we worry about ourselves for the moment?"
The response caught the soldier off-guard for a brief moment, and he paused; his composure was quickly regained however, and he replied, "You and I swore an oath, just like everyone on this mission, to keep her alive. Now it's time to make good on that oath."
Why? Aaron was temped to ask again, irritated by the blindly loyal attitude his bunk-mate displayed, but a shudder from the ship as it took more damage made him decide against it; playing along would at the very least get him a meat shield that he could use to make it through the ship to the escape pods. "Fine."
"Good," Trask said. "Hurry up and grab your gear, unless you plan on fighting the Sith in a jumpsuit."
Don't get smart with me, Aaron wanted to snarl. He had a lot more experience than this obviously green recruit; he should be the one taking the lead. Instead, he held his tongue and took two quick bounds to his locker, opening it with a deft movement.
Inside, hung up on the rack, was a suit of light-brown light Echani fiber-armor, a gift from a previous employer. Aaron took this and slipped it on, feeling comfortable in the familiar garb; it allowed him to move quickly and freely, but it also provided a decent amount of protection.
Concealed by the armor was a short sword, the blade made from energy-resistant cortosis material. Next to it was a modified blaster pistol. Aaron picked it up and examined the calibrated scope, making sure it was set up properly; he was careful not to disturb the installed hair-trigger, as the slightest movement could accidentally fire the weapon; the beam splitter installed in the weapon made it all the more dangerous.
He turned the safety on the gun and put it down, reaching into the locker and pulling out a grey belt; a stealth-field generator. Compared to some of the pieces of stealth technology in the galaxy, it was pathetically mundane, but the device got the job done, and was one of Aaron's most valuable tools. He fastened it around his waist and belted his short sword to it, placing the blaster pistol in its holster. He turned around, acknowledging Trask with a curt nod. "Let's kick some ass."
Two things: this will be fairly short, and will contain major spoilers for both mass Effect 3 and the Leviathan DLC. You have been warned.
Now, this is something I've wanted to share for a bit, now, ever since completing the Mass Effect trilogy for the umpteenth time. I played through with relatively the same choices, only I played through with Mass Effect's 3 DLC pieces (all of which are great), and I want to talk a little bit about Leviathan, because contrary to what people say about it, it does in a way somewhat affect the ending of Mass Effect 3, and it does finally make the existence of the Reapers and the explanation given by the starchild somewhat satisfying.
Hear me out. The Leviathan DLC establishes that the starchild (Catalyst) was an artificial construct created by the Leviathans to oversee relations between organic and synthetic life. To this end, the Catalyst determined that the best way to do this would be to turn the Leviathans into Reapers and harvest civilizations, essentially creating a sort of "perfect evolution" in the form of a Reaper. This was what the Catalyst concluded was the best way to stop conflict between organic and synthetic life. Yes, the logic is flawed, but the main issue people have is they believe the Catalyst to be omnipotent or god-like. In reality, the Catalyst was programmed to think a certain way, and perceive certain things a certain way, in order to better carry out its function. With this in mind, it is easy to see the mistakes and failures in logic as errors in programming of the Catalyst that were caught too late by the Leviathans to stop.
So, in essence, the Reapers were created by an artificial intelligence whose parameters dictated that the best way to keep organics and synthetics from conflicting would be to merge them and preserve them in a perfect form. The logic here is flawed, but since we know that the Catalyst was CONSTRUCTED, these flaws are more acceptable.
Hopefully that makes sense. But for me, it made the explanation for the Reapers' existence much more satisfying and much more sensible, and I think I understand it now. I hope I've gotten my point across. I felt like sharing.
Please, post your thoughts on this if you feel like it. Or don't. Whichever you prefer. Good day!
Well, the teaser trailer for Dragon Age 3: Inquisition has just been released, and there's some stuff to talk about, which I may or may not get to. Firstly, a disclaimer: I have extensively played and loved Dragon Age: Origins (despite not having played its expansion), but I have not played Dragon Age 2, so my experience in regards to that story is small. So bear with me and any errors that may come from not knowing the story in Dragon Age 2; I apologize in advance.
Now, in the teaser, we see lots of things overlain with a narration by none other than everyone's favorite witch shape-shifter: Morrigan. We've got aftermaths of great battlefields showing a dwarf who I believe is Varric (a character I am only familiar with by reputation), and we've got great battles. Morrigan speaks of alliances crumbling, and we see what looks like a siege going on. But just then, sh*t hits the fan when the sky tears open and meteors start raining down. We see glimpses of all sorts of grotesque creatures (that may be familiar; I haven't played Dragon Age in a long time), and finally, we see it, albeit for a few, imposing seconds: a huge dragon. Afterwards, we see Morrigan and her slightly updated look breaking the fourth wall, asking us an interesting question: "Will you stand against it, or lead this world to its bitter end?"
Now, first thing I'm going to address: Morrigan talking about threats to the world. For those who've played Dragon Age: Origin's DLC "Witch Hunt", you'll know that the only threat that Morrigan remotely acknowledges is her mother, Flemeth, who is confirmed to still be "alive" (we still don't know much about the elusive witch). This is where the speculation begins: we can assume that Morrigan will have a big part to play in Dragon Age 3, as she's got her voice all over the trailer and her face all over its ending. If she's talking about a threat, we can conclude that the main antagonist of the game will be Flemeth (finally, as things have been building up to this point); I believe that the dragon we see is Flemeth in her dragon form (which she has used numerous times).
Alright, so we've established that Morrigan is significant and that Flemeth is the villain. I think that Flemeth is sort of going to play a Darth Sidious-esque role, working behind the scenes to make all of these previously-mentioned alliances crumble; I think she's going to manipulate the world into going to war so she can easier destroy/enslave it. The main story, I believe, will be about stopping the conflict between everyone to face the greater threat (sadly, this does seem extremely familiar, just on a larger scale).
Now, for something most people may overlook: Morrigan's child. The problem with this is that it's completely optional in Dragon Age: Origins, and so if they want to make it at all significant, they have to find a convenient way around that little pothole. However, if they do make the child important, that opens up a whole new avenue.
The child is said to have the essence of the arch-demon inside him. The arch-demon is the absolute leader of the Darkspawn during a Blight (sad to see everyone's apocalyptic creatures take a back-seat and get a down-grade in Dragon Age 2). What if, maybe, just maybe, part of the story involves allying with Morrigan and her child (who may or may not be matured to the point where he/she can fight as a party member) and using the child to cause another Blight to challenge Flemeth? That would be huge, and it would create an aspect of tragedy in the story: remember Morrigan's rhetorical question in the trailer? What if, after you summon the Blight with the child acting as the arch-demon and leading the Darkspawn to victory, somehow finishing Flemeth once and for all, you have a choice: kill the child and save the realm, or let him live and allow the Blight to ravage everything? What if Morrigan sided with the child, forcing you to kill her as well to defeat the Blight?
That, of course, is only assuming the child would be a major part of the game, and seeing as that path is optional in DA:O, I have a sliver of doubt. But you can't deny that that would be pretty damn awesome if they pulled it off correctly.
I have no idea what to say about the characters. Hopefully we see most of them make a return in some way (let's keep our fingers crossed that some of them don't get shafted Mass Effect 3 style), and maybe we'll see the Heroes of Ferelden and Kirkwall in some way. There's so much to speculate on, and I'm going to wrap it up with discussion on the main character: the Inquisitor.
The protagonist of Dragon Age 3 will be a completely new character, and I think this is the proper route, what with them creating a new character for Dragon Age 2. The good thing about this character is that they can have no ties or allegiances that limit them, at least at the start, aside from the faction that he/she will likely be a part of (either the Templar Order or a splinter group called the Inquisition). We will be able to choose an origin for this new character, but it has, unfortunately, been likewise confirmed that he/she will be human. My speculation is that the story will begin with the PC fighting in the Mage/Templar war, and something will happen to alienate him from this. Perhaps a vanguard of Flemeth's forces attacks him and his men and they get screwed over, pushed back only by a mysterious witch and a deadly child (hint hint). Perhaps this will lead the PC to ally with Morrigan in some way and try to gather everyone together to fight Flemeth.
However, this creates another quandary: if my story speculation about Morrigan's child is true, this would require the PC to become a Grey Warden to kill him/her, assuming those rules still apply. The main problem with this theory and my previous speculation is that it really leaves room for two endings, and not much else; it has been confirmed that DA3 will be more open-ended than previous titles, but we all know how Mass Effect 3 turned out with those words (never speak of it again). I suppose we'll just have to see what happens.
This is all purely speculation, and I might have made some mistakes here and there (feel free to correct me so I seem less of a moron in the future), but just in case they try to pull off something akin to what I just described, I'm immortalizing it right here on the internet, right now. If I'm right, I called it and am amazing (not really). If I'm wrong, oh well, I just hope the story is still very strong, strong enough to rival that of Dragon Age: Origins. So those are my thoughts. I'm curious about yours, so feel free to share. What do you think about all this? Are you even willing to give EA any benefit of doubt?
I hope you've enjoyed reading this massive wall of text (maybe I'll add in some graphics or something later), and I hope I've spurred some semblance of thought in your brains about this game, which I for one am tentatively looking forward to. I think that's all for now, so goodbye, and good day.
In addition to his combat prowess, Nym is an excellent tactician, despite the overshadowing of this skill by his mastery of battle, and he often comes up with extremely well-organized plans to conduct raids on trade shipments throughout the galaxy. He will often take council with his most trusted crew, trusting them to point out errors or flaws in these plans.
However, by far Nym's strongest aspect is his natural charisma; he is incredibly inspiring to those around him, and he is capable of rallying people, even in the face of hopeless defeat. Because of this, his crew are fiercely loyal to him, abandoning any previous allegiances and committing fully to Nym's crew.
Despite these admirable qualities, Nym has several flaws and short-comings. One of the most prominent is his adversity to killing. He will downright refuse to kill, always disabling or swaying his adversaries. This makes things extremely difficult for the pirates at times, causing all sorts of complications. In addition, Nym is fiercely protective of each and every one of his crew-members, considering them his responsibility; he will hold himself accountable for their actions, much of the time, and he will try and keep them safe no matter the cost. In addition, while possessing a great deal of intelligence, Nym is only average in the field of technology, preferring to leave that to more experienced minds.
Shiva is a Miralukan rogue Jedi, and Nym's de facto second-in-command. She is a masterful strategist, even more so than Nym himself, and possesses an astounding intellect. Her value to the crew does not come from this, however, but from her Force-sensitivity, as she is the only one among Nym's crew to possess a gift of that sort.
She is very adept with the Force, being Miralukan, and she is especially competent with telekinesis, which she utilizes in many innovative ways. Her most valuable power, however, is battle meditation. While not as practiced as other famous users of the power, she can use it very effectively, and this power becomes one of the catalysts to the success of Nym's raids.
In addition to this, she is very skilled in telepathy, able to pry into the thoughts of others, and influence the wills of some people. She can also inspire those around her. However, this telepathic skill is often used to wipe memories of victims of the pirates, to keep the details of their operations as much a secret as possible. This makes her all the move valuable.
Shiva is not keen on combat, preferring to stay back and keep to a support role, providing advantages from afar, often psychologically. However, when pressed, she wields a single purple lightsaber, and while not as practiced with the weapon as with the Force, she is very proficient in Form I, using it effectively in conjunction with her powerful telekinetic abilities and a very practiced skill in energy absorption; she can create and sustain, with the proper concentration, barriers large enough to protect several people close together from energy attacks. In addition, the Kaiburr crystal in her lightsaber amplifies her Force powers greatly, furthering her prowess.
In addition to a distinct lack of focus on combat, Shiva is not well versed on many subjects outside strategy and the Force, and she tends to keep to herself, not getting along particularly well with others. Despite this, she remains one of the most trusted and respected members of Nym's crew, almost as much as Nym himself.
>Single-bladed purple lightsaber (Kaiburr crystal)
Prominent Force Powers (in order of strength)
Blacklight is the tech specialist of Nym's crew. He is an expert with any form of engineering and is most at home at any form of console or computer, being able to manipulate the technology in sometimes surprising ways. The ECM suites used on the pirate ships under Nym were designed by him and are incredibly effective.
Blacklight's main value comes from his repairing abilities; often he can repair minor damage to ships, and he is very good at assessing the state of a damaged ship. In addition, he can patch up any hand-held technology damaged in raids or battles.
If pressed, Blacklight, while not nearly as competent as Nym, is a fair shot, but he is most used to his personal carbine, and is less effective with other weapons, lacking the skill to adapt to their feel quickly like some others do. Nonetheless, his carbine is fairly long-ranged, and his pistol is also used to great effect when necessary. Often, however, Blacklight is the one being defended while he gets through layers of computer security systems.
Blacklight's forte is technology, and he is not as competent in any other field; he is not combat oriented, and he is slightly below Nym in terms of tactical experience. In addition, while the crew like him more than Shiva due to her almost mystical nature, he is in no way a social butterfly and is not good with words, preferring consoles to people.
Fido is a large, heavily armed and armored combat droid designed and maintained by Blacklight. It has a modular chassis capable of mounting a large variety of different weapons, from missiles, to heavy blasters, to even a small turbolaser.
Fido is also equipped with an array of advanced sensors, including motion trackers, thermal sensors, radar sensors, and also a prototype sensor that detects light rays and pinpoints abnormalities, marking them. This was developed to combat light refracting cloaks. Fido also has very sophisticated targeting software and can be programmed to use non-lethal force against foes, which re-prioritizes its targets.
Finally, Fido's chassis is designed to allow it to "fold up", effectively reducing its size by half and allowing it to be transported easier; this serves no tactical purpose on a battlefield. It is simply in place to allow easier transportation of the droid. Also, the tough armor and shields of Fido allow it to be dropped from low orbit onto a target, though this has obvious drawbacks inherent in such a maneuver, such as accuracy.
Fido's main, and most obvious weakness, is its large size and heavy armor, which makes it cumbersome and slow. However, while it does not advance quickly, it is designed to be able to track even fast moving targets very effectively, swerving on a joint in its midsection to give it a 360 degree view of the battlefield.
One of Fido's most prominent advantages is his multiple weapon configurations; he can be equipped with a myriad of weaponry, depending on the situation. Obviously, field refits are typically too difficult to carry out, but a configuration can be changed prior to deployment.
>Two heavy rotary blaster cannons
>Two light rotary blaster cannons
>Two shoulder-mounted missile pods; 9 missiles each, varying destructive yield
>Two heavy mass accelerator cannons
>Two light mass accelerator cannons
>One ultra-heavy mass accelerator cannon
>One heavy rotary blaster cannon
>Two light rotary blaster cannons
>Shoulder-mounted turbolaser beam cannon
>Advanced targeting suite
>Advanced sensor suite
>Jet stabilizers (to maintain balance)
Raptor is a piloting prodigy, incredibly adept at flying or driving any form of vehicle. Due to this, he is arrogant and sometimes cocky, but despite this, he is a good judge of his abilities and will never over, or under, estimate them.
Raptor is responsible not only for piloting the ships, but coordinating the small number of ships at Nym's disposal, keeping them in line and where they should be. Aside from this, he is the helmsman for Nym's flagship, and flies smaller transports for more covert missions.
Piloting skills aside, Raptor is a martial artist, and often trains with Nym in close-quarters combat, despite not being as competent. If in a firefight, he uses a long-knife with which he is exceptionally effective, and will typically use his personal shotgun if he uses a ranged weapon; despite his focus on CQC, he tends to keep his distance from combat, as he is of little use unless in the pilot's seat.
Rogue is the newest "member" of the crew, but she is considered simply a passenger by most. She met Nym on Nar Shadda, trying to collect on a bounty set upon him by an angered crime lord; she failed, defeated quickly by the skilled pirate. Knowing she would be hunted by her ruthless employers for her failure, he offered her a way off-planet in exchange for her loyalty. She reluctantly agreed, faced with little choice.
Her primary specialty is infiltration. While Nym is good at the art, he relies on his armor and advanced technology, whereas Rogue has a natural affinity for stealth, needing only a simple stealth-field generator to become undetectable. She utilizes these skills primarily for assassinating, or, under Nym, disabling, foes.
She is a competent melee fighter, utilizing two tonfa-blades expertly; she also has a knife which she will often use for stealth take-downs. She typically lacks any form of ranged weapon, occasionally picking up a blaster pistol or carbine from a fallen enemy. She tends to move around the battlefield and engage targets up close with her blades.
Rogue is extremely quick and agile, wearing only a light fiber weave not as heavy as Nym's advanced suit, but just as useful in her hands. It has an in-built stealth generator and a wrist garrote to aid in silent take-downs. In addition, it has software, enhanced with Blacklight's help, that allows her to bypass security protocols and firewalls.
Her main disadvantages are her lack of durability, as she relies more on her agility and speed, and her ineffectiveness in open combat; her usefulness is usually constrained to covert missions and infiltration.
Rogue and Nym often clash over the ethics of killing or sparing opponents; Nym never kills, and he expects his subordinates to do the same. Rogue is a killer, and knows little else, finding it a waste of time to disable someone when you can take care of them quickly and easily, permanently. In addition to their moral clashes, Rogue is often quick to point out the lack of obligation she has to stay with Nym's crew, and this has caused some hostility on a few occasions with other crew members.
ModDB has some weird formatting issues whenever I try to copy/paste something. It for some reason mashes everything together and compresses it, and whenever I press the "enter" key when trying to re-format it, it always takes me back to the beginning of the document. So, because of these issues, instead of posting the entire writing here, I will intermittently update this specific blog whenever a new chapter is released, and I will post a link to where the chapter is.
Chapter 1: Fanfiction.net
Chapter 2: Fanfiction.net
Chapter 3: Fanfiction.net
A small re-write of the Skyrim story. I'm feeling pretty decent about this, so I might just continue this. As always, please comment and give me some feedback if you have any. Enjoy!
My eyes opened slowly so as to keep from being blinded by the light that was sure to assail them the moment they were not under the protection of their lids. But the light was dim, dim enough to feel comfortable. It was overcast, so maybe that meant some rain? After sight came sound, the sound of hooves hitting the ground, mingled with the creak of turning wooden wheels and the occasional bump as they struck a stray rock or the like. I was in a cart. A horse-drawn cart.
"Hey, you," a voice to my right sounded, jarring me from the daze common to those just waking up. My head throbbed as a head throbs when it has been hit with enough force to knock its owner unconscious. With the jarring voice came a slightly clearer picture of the world. The cart was in a forest, probably traveling some forsaken or rarely used road. What was of interest was the driver. He wore a brown vest with dark red sleeves and collar. If I wasn't mistaken, it was the armor of the Imperial legion. If I was correct, we were sitting in an Imperial legion cart. I tried to move my hands apart but they were bound, which in itself unnerved me. We were prisoners. I realized then that I had yet to see who "we" was, and my eyes turned to inform me.
Across from me sat a Nord with long, untrimmed blonde hair like myself. Unlike myself, he was cloaked in armor. Its coloring was blue and brown, and under the leather was a slightly visible coat of chain-link mail. The coat was unfamiliar to me, but looking to my left, I saw more men and women in the same armor. My gaze returned to the man in front of me, who was staring at me. I realized it was his voice that had jarred me so.
"You're finally awake," he continued. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."
I tried to jog my memory, but the blow to my head did more than knock me unconscious. I was still dazed from the hit.
"Damn you Stormcloaks!" another voice growled, coming from next to the man who had just spoken, at the edge of my vision. My head turned slightly to get a glimpse of him. He was wearing nothing but rags, and his eyes were gaunt. His brown hair was disheveled and looked uncared for. "Skyrim was fine, until you came along! Empire was nice and lazy!" So it was the Empire. And Stormcloaks? I jogged my memory a second time, hoping to come to a realization. Then it hit me.
The Stormcloaks were rebels. Their leader, Ulfric Stormcloak, had murdered Torygg, high king of Skyrim. All of them were fully devoted to the downfall of the Empire. And I was sharing a prisoner cart with one.
"If they hadn't been looking for you," the thief, according to the Stormcloak across from me, interrupted my thoughts. "I could have stolen that horse and been half-way to Hammerfell." A horse thief, paired with soldiers that could be considered terrorists? Imperial justice was vindictive, if anything. But if I was in the lot too... "You there!" The two words jolted me as I realized I was being addressed. My eyes met his. "You and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the Empire wants!"
"We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the Stormcloak responded, his voice growing haughty.
"Shut up back there!" our ever-so-polite driver called over his shoulder. A brief silence was interrupted by the thief.
"What's wrong with him, huh?" His eyes gestured towards the man sitting next to me. His clothing was fine, maybe even regal, which also explained the well-trimmed, if slightly dirty hair. He emanated authority, even bound, and gagged, as he was.
"Watch your tongue!" the Nord across from me hissed. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king!" His voice morphed until it sounded as though he was making a proclamation. His devotion was obvious, and even admirable.
"Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm?" The thief replied, his tone that of surprise. So he was a Jarl. My mind wandered back to the olden days, when feuds between the Jarls were all too common. "You're the leader of the rebellion. But if they've captured you..." My mind made the sinister connection all too quickly. "Oh gods, where are they taking us?"
"I don't know where we're going," the Nord responded. "but Sovngarde awaits."
On the outside, my face remained unfazed, almost distant. It was, of course, an act. On the inside, questions raged, chief of them being "why me?", followed closely by "what have I done?". I tried to remember if I had offended the Empire in such a way that deserves death, but my mind failed me, still recovering as it was from the blow that I realized I had no recollection of.
"No, this can't be happening! This isn't happening!" The horse thief was in a panic, unsurprising, given the circumstances. If I hadn't been too busy worrying about myself, formulating a story, an argument that I figured would be foolproof and undeniable proof of my innocence, I would have felt pity for him. Thievery of a horse and when caught he expected a prison sentence, not the headsman's ax.
"Hey," the Stormcloak said in a more gentle, perhaps resigned tone. "what village are you from, horse thief?"
"Why do you care?" he replied angrily, obviously blaming the Stormcloaks for his imminent fate.
"A Nord's last thoughts, should be of home," came the almost detached response.
At the Stormcloak's words, images of my own old house came to me. A small cabin, out in the wilderness, close to Ivarstead. My father and I would occasionally walk through the valleys and the mountain passes. He would teach me to hunt and survive on my own. I learned to use a bow, yes, but my father also taught me how to catch prey without the use of weapons, instead relying on the environment. Those thoughts brought comfort to me, even with my roiling thoughts, and I realized the wisdom in the Stormcloak's words.
"Rorikstead... I'm... from Rorikstead," said the horse thief, but I barely heard him, immersed as I was in my own thoughts.
"General Tullius, sir! The headsman is waiting!" this new, unfamiliar voice, belonging to an Imperial, did bring me out of my own little dreamworld, and when I looked for the source, I saw the town. It was gated, with an opening large enough for a carriage to pass through with no trouble, protected by two now opened wooden doors. The voice came from a sentry above the gate, walking back and forth above the stone walls.
"Good," said the man at the head of the procession of carriages, whom I assumed was General Tullius. From what I had heard he was the head of the Imperials in Skyrim, the organizer of all of their activities in the continent. His presence came as a surprise initially, but thinking about it and noticing the defeated Ulfric Stormcloak, I realized that this entire execution was planned to be for him. "Let's get this over with."
"Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh!" prayed the horse thief as the carriage crossed under the great arch that greeted us. "Divines, please help me!"
I looked around, taking in the scenery. Ahead of us, and most apparent, was a pair of watchtowers, very rare in such small hamlets. They hinted at a past in which perhaps the small town we were in was once more important. To the right of the cart I saw several small houses and another gate, but that was not my focus. To the side of the procession, the General had broken off and was now conversing. I saw a group of Altmer, high elves, their yellowish skin easily distinguishable. They were Thalmor.
"Look at him," the Stormcloak scoffed. "General Tullius, the military governor. And it looks like the Thalmor are with him! Damn elves! I bet they had something to do with this!" Damn elves indeed. I had no prejudice against the majority of them, however, one of the reasons my views clashed with the Stormcloaks' often. But the Thalmor I held in contempt for many reasons.
"This is Helgen," the Nord continued in a less agitated voice. "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with juniper berries mixed in?" His calmness would have been unnerving if it were unnatural, but calm is always natural when one is about to meet the gods. "It's funny," he murmured, almost dreamily. "when I was a boy, Imperial walls and towers used to make me fell so safe..."
"Who are they, daddy?" a child's voice asked. My eyes turned, catching a glimpse of the boy, his red shirt and neat hair, his innocent eyes that had never seen death or blood. "Where are they going?"
"You need to go inside, little cub," the father of the boy responded.
"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."
"Inside the house. Now." The father's voice turned from soft to stern. No child should watch men going to their deaths.
"Yes, papa," the boy complied, clearly disappointed. It was sad to witness his innocence and think back to when I thought the same way.
I looked ahead and my heart began to pound more rapidly as I noticed the carts in the front were coming to a halt. I noticed an armored Imperial woman shouting out orders. "Get the prisoners out of the cart! Move it!"
"Why are we stopping?" the horse thief asked, once again panicking.
"Why do you think?" the Nord replied softly. "End of the line." The cart came to a halt, our friendly driver standing up and hopping down from the cart. "Let's go," the Stormcloak continued, this time addressing me. "Shouldn't keep the Gods waiting for us."
As we stood up to leave the cart, the thief began his futile protests. "No, wait! We're not rebels!"
"Face your death with some courage thief!" the Nord scolded, jumping out of the cart after Ulfric, shoving the small horse thief out. I followed, stretching my legs one last time and rolling my shoulders before stepping off the cart, casually landing on the hard ground and bending my knees to absorb the shock. It felt good to move again.
"You've got to tell them! We weren't with you! This is a mistake!" His voice was growing more and more agitated, more and more desperate. I held my peace, not wanting to cause trouble.
"Step towards the block when we call your name, one at a time!" the Imperial captain yelled harshly. I took an immediate dislike to her. Beside her was a younger officer. His armor was fine, a silver breastplate, shoulder-pads, and bracers, with crimson sleeves and gold trimmings that wove across the chest, forming the Imperial emblem. In his hands were a quill and paper.
"Empire loves their damned lists," the Stormcloak growled.
"Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm," the officer in the fine armor called in a contrastingly calm, almost soothing voice. The gagged Jarl walked forward as his name was called.
"It has been an honor, Jarl Ulfric," the Stormcloak, now to my left, muttered.
"Ralof of Riverwood," was the next name, and the Nord left my side, walking off to join his companions in front of the block. At least I would know his name. I felt names were important to know.
"Lokir of Rorikstead." The name of the town made me look to the thief, who walked forward.
His voice was at the height of its panic, almost shrill in its protest. "No! I'm not a rebel! You can't do this!" I knew what he was going to do and silently hoped he wouldn't try it.
"Halt!" the female Imperial shouted in her harsh voice as Lokir sprinted as fast as he could past her and the other guards towards the gate.
"You're not gonna kill me!" he called over his shoulder, but I could already see the guards with their bows.
"Archers!" the captain called, and several shafts sprang forward from dark-brown longbows, burying into the back of the runaway prisoner. He was dead before he hit the ground.
I watched the entirety of the grim scene, cursing the stupidity of the thief while also admiring his courage. He was going to die anyways, might as well try and escape. This dangerous thought took root and made me begin to think of a plan of my own.
"Anyone else feel like running?" the Imperial captain snarled. I had half a mind to sprint forward and smash her face in with whatever limb of my body could reach it.
"Wait," the officer next to her said. "You there," he called, addressing me. My gaze shifted and I looked him in the eye. "Step forward."
I took a few steps until I was in front of the two legionnaires. This was my chance to talk my way out of my fate. I had gone through hundreds of mock conversations, and I was fairly confident that the Imperials would be lenient. To be safe I directed my gaze towards the Imperial in the fine armor, who seemed at least a bit more sympathetic than the one to my left.
When I was in front of the two of them, the officer who had addressed me looked me over, trying to find anything distinguishing about me, perhaps to place what crime I had committed to deserve execution. "Who are you?"
And that concludes Chapter 1. If you were able to read through all of that text, feel free to post praise or criticism (I welcome both). Good day!
Here's Part 2. I guess it serves to say that if you like (or don't like) the story, please leave a comment with criticism or praise. I really appreciate it. Anyways, enjoy!
Kor stopped at the gate, catching his breath and taking in the scene.
The yellow garb of the Whiterun guards was instantly recognizable. In front of one stood a group of three men in steel armor. Two had silver helms covering their faces, but the one in the lead had taken it off and was conversing with the guard. Kor moved closer to hear the exchange.
“We haven't seen any,” the guard said.
“Are you sure?” the man asked, looking uncertain. “We were tracking one. You're positive it didn't come here?” his hand reached for the hilt of the sword at his hip.
“Positive. Pretty sure we would recognize a vampire.”
Kor's ears perked up and he walked forward. The guards and men turned to him. “If you're looking for a vampire, one attacked me not two hours ago.”
“You killed it?” the man at the head of the armored trio asked.
“Yes,” Kor answered, reaching into his pack and presenting the vial of vampire dust.
The man examined it for a few seconds before nodding in approval. “It seems we have you to thank for ending our hunt. She had eluded us for far too long.” He made a motion to the others and they turned around, walking off. Before he joined them, he examined Kor for a few seconds. “We could use some good fighters like you,” he said.
“Who's 'we'?” Kor replied.
“The Dawnguard. Vampire hunters. That vampire you fought isn't even the tip of the proverbial iceberg. The vampires are returning, and they're far stronger than we imagined. But we'll fight them, and we'll take anyone we can get.”
Kor was interested. “Where do I join?”
The man gestured towards Kor's pack. “Hand me your map.” Kor did so, and the man made a few markings before giving it back. “You can take a carriage to Riften and head south. When you see Stendarr's Beacon, and you won't miss it, you'll know you're in the right place. Hope I see you there.” He turned around, walking off.
“Wait!” Kor said, and the man turned back around. “Can I come with you?”
He smiled sympathetically. “We've got some more hunting to do. I'll see you there.”
Kor nodded and the man turned around once again, hurrying to rejoin his companions on the road. “The Dawnguard,” Kor muttered to himself.
He turned to Alvor, who had watched the exchange from his forge. “I think it's crazy,” the blacksmith said, predicting Kor's question. “But if you want to do some good, that's where to do it.”
“If I'm headed to Riften, I'll need some supplies,” Kor said. “Think you could help me?”
“Riften's a day ride by carriage. I can scrounge up some supplies, mostly fruits, nothing prepared. You want that, you'll have to go hunting. I've also got some gold that you've more than earned.”
Kor nodded. “Thank you, Alvor. You and your family are the closest thing I've had to a home since I've got here. I'll repay you someday, I promise.”
“I know you will,” the blacksmith replied.
Kor turned, heading to the Sleeping Giant Inn. If this was his last day in Riverwood, he might as well enjoy it.
The Inn was lively. Unlike quite a few bars Kor had been to in the past, the place had a friendly atmosphere about it. He took a seat at a table, joined by Embry, the local drunk, and Hadvar, the Imperial that had tagged along with him after Helgen.
“Heard you're leaving for Riften,” Hadvar said. Kor nodded, downing a small glass of Black-Briar mead.
“Might as well get drunk, not like I'll be doing anything on the carriage ride.” Embry and Hadvar chuckled, raising their glasses in agreement.
“Watch yer back,” Embry muttered. “Don't want to become a snack for one of d'em vampires.”
Kor snorted. “One's already tried. Didn't turn out well.” the trio laughed merrily at this and started telling stories, some true, some less so, enjoying themselves.
Several hours later, Kor stumbled out of the Sleeping Giant Inn. He was drunk, but at least he knew it, as little as that knowledge actually helped. He took several steps before falling over and groaning. Shaking his head to try and ward off the effects of the alcohol, he got back up and walked carefully towards the gate, where the carriage waited.
After several minutes, he finally found his way there, the carriage driver watching him with a mix of sympathy and contempt. “Need something?”
“A... a ride to... Riften,” Kor was able to get out.
“That'll cost you about fifty gold,” the driver replied.
Kor reached for his pack, but he couldn't find it. He had forgotten it at Alvor's. “I'll be right back,” he said, turning around and stumbling back to Alvor's house. He saw the pack on the porch and picked it up, carefully hoisting it over his shoulder. He went back to the carriage, the light of the full moon the only reason he could see anything.
Depositing the pack on the ground, Kor fished out fifty gold septims, handing them over to the driver, who thanked him. “Climb in back and we'll be off.”
Kor nodded silently, picking up his pack and moving to the back of the cart. He threw his supplies into the wagon before clambering in himself. He barely heard the driver whistling as the effects of the alcohol took over and he fell into sleep.
The action will pick up next part, so be patient. Anyways, if you feel like it, let me know what you think. Other than that, good day!
I'm really bored and want to write about something, and since I have nothing to write and I've been playing Dawnguard recently, I've decided to write a little fan-fiction detailing the events in Dawnguard from my character's point of view, with a bit of embellishment. So... enjoy!
It was very simple. Pull back, aim, steady, release. Kor's right arm trembled as it held the thin bowstring to his cheek. His left eye was closed, his right focusing on a deer about fifty feet away. It was grazing comfortably, a stationary target, an easy target. Kor's breath halted, his heart beat slowed. His fingers let go of the string, and a steel-tipped shaft launched forward. In an instant it had buried itself in the side of the deer, killing it.
Kor sprinted up to the kill, wrenching the arrow from it and depositing it back in his quiver. Kneeling down, he hoisted the dead creature up and slung it over his shoulder, taking it back to the camp he had made. An elk corpse lay next to the fire, and Kor dropped the deer next to it, sitting down and stretching. He would have to go back to Riverwood the next day. Alvor would appreciate the meal, and it was the least Kor could do after the blacksmith had let him stay at his house following the events at Helgen. Kor shook his head, clearing it of images of the massive jet-black dragon's eyes, locked with his own.
He pulled out a skinning knife, kneeling next to the elk. First he removed the antlers. They were valuable to certain alchemists and he might be able to fetch a good price for them. He then skinned and gutted the dead beast, keeping the hide as intact as possible for further use and depositing the entrails in a hole he had dug in the ground, which would hopefully serve to keep scavengers away.
His work finished, Kor examined the chunk of raw venison. He would cook it later. Looking at the deer, he crawled over to it, prepared to do the same thing. However, before the knife came to the creature, Kor heard leaves rustling behind him.
An arm snaked around his neck, clamping down on his throat and cutting off his supply of air. Kor reacted quickly, rolling forward and bringing his assailant with him. His attacker landed in front of him, and Kor scrambled back, trying to get a good look at who had just tried to kill him.
She was clad almost completely in black, from her body, to her hands, to her feet, excepting only her head. Her face was bone-white, bloodless, and ravenous flaming orange eyes stared at him. The most striking feature was her mouth, opened to expose long fangs. Kor knew immediately what she was.
The vampire raised its right arm and a gout of fire launched towards Kor. He leaped to the side, towards his bow, nimbly picking the weapon from the ground and drawing a few arrows from the quiver next to it. The vampire turned to follow his movements, but Kor jumped forward, tackling the creature. One of his arrows plunged into her heart, and she growled in pain, but aside from that, the arrow had no effect. She threw him off with one hand before rising to her feet and pulling the arrow from her chest. She smirked as the stared at the shaft before splitting it in half with two of her fingers. Kor drew back another arrow and fired it, but his target had moved out of the way. She growled in anger and charged at him, but he jumped to the side once again. He circled until he was next to the fire and drew back his last arrow. The vampire hissed, baring her fangs before running at him once more. He let loose his last arrow, and it buried itself in her right shoulder. The impact turned her body, and Kor stepped to the side, allowing the vampire's momentum to carry her forward. He dropped his bow and came around with his left hand, grabbing the back of the vampire's head. Simply guiding her with her own momentum, Kor smashed the monster's face into the hot coals of the fire. The flames burnt his hand, but he held her there as she howled, writhing about and trying to break free.
Eventually, she stopped moving, and Kor withdrew his searing hand, grimacing at the damage. It was blackened and the skin was a bit charred, but the vampire had protected from the worst of the flames. He let out a sigh of relief before looking again at the vampire. The corpse was disintegrating into dust, leaving only the clothing. Nodding to himself, he looked around. He was alone in the plains, but that could change very quickly. He stood up, retrieving his bow and his arrows, along with whatever essentials he needed. He needed to get back to Riverwood. Vampires were a threat not taken lightly. Before he left, he found a vial in his pack and gathered some of the dust as proof, just in case the guards thought he was drunk or mad. Pocketing the vial, he began the trek to Riverwood, leaving the camp as it was, fire roaring, a deer and the remains of an elk strewn across a piece of cloth, and a set of black robes covered in glowing dust...
EXPOSITION AND INTRO!!!
So... yeah. Hope you guys liked it. I'm not sure how long I'll keep this going, if I keep it going at all, but it was fun to write something new for a change. Good day!