| Luke Skywalker [Week 0] | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 7 2010, 05:45 PM (51 Views) | |
| Candied | Dec 7 2010, 05:45 PM Post #1 |
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Name: Luke Skywalker Call-Sign: Red Six Nickname(s): Kid Birth Date: 19 BBY Gender: Male Species: Human Home World: Tatooine Current Residence: N/A Fluent Language(s): Bocce, Binary, Galactic Standard Basic __________ Height: 5’9” (175 centimeters) Weight: 145 lbs. (65 kilograms) Eye Color: Blue Hair Color: Blonde Skin Color: Pallor-Caucasian Fashion: Luke owns and wears the types of clothing which might be expected of a hotshot Alliance pilot. Flight suits with uniform boots and utility belts, spacer clothing with flight jackets and muscle shirts, and on rare occasions farm-hand tunics with sand boots are regular attire for him. The colors he usually wears lean toward earthy tones, with yellows and tans and grays being predominant colors in his wardrobe. Typically, he wears a black glove on his right hand. Appearance: A youthfully handsome man in his early twenties, Luke has the physique and carriage of an agile and athletic young warrior. He has an attractively cleft chin and boyishly square features, set with vibrant blue eyes and topped by a mop of bowl-cut sandy-blonde hair. He has a healthily muscular body, coated with a layer of fat which prevents him from appearing “ripped” but suits his lifestyle, and his right hand is a prosthetic. __________ Mother: Padmé Amidala, deceased. Father: Anakin Skywalker, deceased. Siblings: Leia Organa, alive. Spouse: N/A Children: N/A Personality: Luke is the last of the Jedi Knights. The singular burden placed upon him by his masters, the last remnants of the old Jedi Order, has muted his fiery and impetuous personality behind worry and thoughtful consideration. In social settings he tends to seclude himself from conversations, often exhibiting little outward sign that he is aware of one going on, instead preferring to listen and draw conclusions. Although his opinions are strong on any number of subjects, he seldom includes himself in difficult decision-making processes. When he is drawn into a conversation he is soft-spoken, but honest and direct in a charmingly uncultured way. As the last of the Jedi Knights, however, and as a general in the Alliance, he can be a frightening figure. On the battlefield he is as sure of himself as any war leader, and for a man as young as he is, he has an exceptionally keen grasp on military tactics and strategy. Luck seems to follow him in battle, placing him in the right places at the right times to tip the odds, which is a trait the Alliance has exploited in the past to win great victories. Some of those victories still create a dark hole of guilt within Luke, whose desire for peace conflicts directly with literal thousands of sentient individuals whose deaths were inflicted by his own actions. __________ Luke Skywalker – Alliance, General Armor: 0 Ranged: 100 Melee: 100 Medical: 0 Crafting: 100 Piloting: 200 Sensitivity: 10000 Lightsaber: 5000 Weapon(s): A lightsaber with a synthetic green crystal and a vibrantly green blade, designed in the style of his first master, Obi-wan Kenobi, functions as his primary weapon. His secondary weapon is a Model 57 blaster pistol, which is a powerfully heavy blaster pistol and an effective sidearm. Armor(s): N/A Miscellaneous: Luke usually carries a personal comlink with him on a utility belt containing several useful items such as a magnetic grappling hook with long wire cable, a day’s protein rations, and a re-breather. Starship: He flies an early-model Incom T-65 X-Wing starfighter, which has been modified and kept up-to-date with the help of several mechanics. __________ Writing Sample 1014 words The last of the Jedi raised the canopy of his starfighter to the sounds of a droid asking him, «Why are we here again?» Dagobah was an unpleasant sight to behold. Although it was alive with the life of a thriving ecosystem, full past the brim with animal and plant life, it reeked of swamp and none of its life was pleasant to behold. Far from the verdant canopies and mystically attractive shadowlands of Kashyyyk, it was a world of foul-smelling gases and eerily foggy lakes and ponds. The familiar sights and smells of the planet where he had trained were nothing if not off-putting. Familiarity with Dagobah definitely bred contempt. “We won’t be long, R2,” he told his droid. The blue-detailed head, battered and scratched from the latest in a long line of military engagements for which the trash canister-shaped astromech droid had not been designed, swiveled as the droid elicited lively and deceptively cheerful-sounding boops and beeps. «I will not leave the ship,» the droid notified him. “You don’t have to,” the Jedi told his mechanical companion in a placating tone. The droid made an unintelligibly suspicious noise and the monitor light on one of its many outer nodes winked from blue to red as it swiveled away. Its owner climbed out onto the nose of his starfighter, pulling out a satchel of supplies with him and slinging it over his shoulder as he did, and heaved the canopy closed again. The craft was an early-model of the popular Incom X-Wing design, and it hissed as the cabin pressurized again. Luke Skywalker leapt down from the starfighter and inhaled deeply of the humid swamp air. Only discipline and a familiarity with his surroundings allowed him to push down the desire to cough out the horrid fumes of plants and animals decomposing out in the muck and mud. A creature died on Dagobah every nanosecond and broke down almost as fast. It was an inhospitable planet with an inhospitable atmosphere writhed in feeling of entirely inhospitable creepiness. Though he had sensed it on his first trip to the outer rim world, now the young Jedi was aware of a disturbance in the Force. The place which generated it was nearby, secluded within the boughs of an enormous, overgrown garltree as ancient as the swamps. The memory of his experience with the Dark Side nexus in that cave sent a shudder down his spine, but he ignored the desire to climb back into his starship and depart the planet. A high-pressure storm was moving over the area, above the canopy of the forests and up in the atmosphere of the planet. It would be almost impossible to navigate an escape through the winds preceding that storm, and at its onset there would be a torrential downpour of such magnitude that even the canopy-protected surface of the swamp was going to see a heavy rainfall. The entire area would be soggy overnight, which was all the time the storm would be present. The next day was when Luke planned to depart … as if plans ever mattered. Both feet struck the mud with a spulch when he hopped over a stump and landed in a wetter portion of the marshy ground, but his waterproofed boots barely sank farther than the heels. He strode forward with earth on his feet, heedless of the smudges on his “uniform” footwear. The Alliance had never particularly cared about spit-and-shine, anyway. A small hut, windows dark, emerged from the mist and foliage as he walked the familiar stretch to the hovel the great Jedi master Yoda had once occupied. The rapid growth of Dagobah, kept at bay by the old Jedi while he had lived, had already overtaken the hut. Plants crept through the windows and there was the sound of hurried flapping as some avian departed through one of the windows. Luke pushed open the door and ducked into the interior. No homely fire crackled in the fireplace. No little green friend puttered through the low-ceilinged structure. No abhorrently awful soup stewed at the squat little cooking stove. The Jedi shut the door behind him and began piling the fireplace with kindling. Rain began to fall outside the hovel. He knew from experience that there were no matches in the hut and instead began applying elbow grease to a pair of sticks, hoping to catch a fire with friction. His efforts were rewarded with the sound of a low crackle and the light of a feeble flame. The rest of the kindling caught fire shortly after and established a foothold for the small, half-rotten log he put on the fire. “Back again, are you?” a wheezing voice asked him. A smile crept across the boyish features and Luke turned with a smile for the diminutive ghost sitting in the old armchair. “Master Yoda.” “Lost, are you? Dagobah, this is. Hate it here, do you not?” Yoda teased him. The last of the Jedi Knights abandoned his smile and asked, “What do I do, Yoda?” “Ah. Lost you are,” the old master commented. “Figure it out yourself, can you not?” The young man shook his head. The burden of being the last of an extinct organization, one as necessary now as it ever had been, showed in his sagging shoulders and frowning face. The fire and verve he had possessed when he first began his training with the feeble old Jedi had all but vanished beneath the shadow of worry and disappointment. At one time, he had been so sure that his actions were just and right. Now, looking back at the lives his actions had ended, it was difficult to feel so certain. Youth had fled early from Luke Skywalker. The shimmering ghost shook its head and sighed. “Failed you, I have.” “Master Yoda,” the Skywalker chided in denial. “I have. I have,” the deceased Jedi said. “Guardians of peace, the Jedi were. No peace there is. Nothing left to guard.” “… and I am the only one,” Luke murmured despondently. “Only one? No,” Yoda gurgled. “Only the first!” |
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5:40 PM Jul 10