Post by Kella on Jun 9, 2011 22:08:54 GMT -5
An Irish Airman Foresees His Death
I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
~ W.B. Yeats
[/font]I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
~ W.B. Yeats
[/center]
Faction: Sith Military
Department: Navy
Rank: Lieutenant (Pilot)
Name: Magnolia Anessa "Jack" Farmer
Race: Jaemian*
Age: 22
Height: 5'6
Weight: 130 lbs
Birth place: Rural Jaemus
Appearance: Jack's features are rather average, for a humanoid. Neither remarkable nor repulsive. Long nose, straight jaw, lightly pockmarked skin, bright orange eyes, fine black hair. Jack is built lean and wiry, with moderate hips and shoulders. Her Wroonian and Etti heritage shows through in a slight, uneven bluish tint to her otherwise tan skin, and a smattering of maroon freckles.
Even when not on the flightline, Jack can usually be found in a black flightsuit. The rest of the time, she prefers practical clothing, loose and light. Jack rarely leaves her hair down, and generally either slicks it back into a bun, or ties it in a ponytail. This and other lightly feminine touches prevent Jack from blending in completely with the sea of cadets around her.
When in the sky, Jack transforms. She's lively and gregarious, quick to laugh and bold in her actions. Past, future, conflicts, relationships, nothing matters more to Jack than flying. She'd do anything for a few moments in the air.
Jack lives in the present. She freely gives of herself to the people she trusts, and even sometimes to people who don't. She's all for having a good time, but has found that there's nothing that gives her a thrill like flying. It's her purpose, her identity, her meaning, her life.[/ul]
Skills:
Piloting -- Jack is an impeccable pilot, whose skill puts her on the front line. She hardly minds, though, as it means more flight time.
Mechanical Repair -- Jack has basic and general mechanical knowledge, enough to understand the big-picture of complex mechanical devices and to perform simple repairs.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 5
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 3
Ranged Weapons: 6
Alignment: 0
*Jaemian -- Descended from a group of Ettis, Wroonians, Emmerians, and Humans who settled in rural Jaemus several hundred years ago. Varying tints of blue in the skin, dark hair, humanoid eye colors + yellow and orange, naturally hardy.
Bio:
Magnolia Anessa Farmer was born one hot summer night on the Jaemus plains, to parents Scarlett and Edison. Her older sister, Rose, looked on, and within three years Magnolia was followed by Carnation and Morning Glory. The Farmers had a thing for flowers. The girls tended to go by their middle names, Marie, Anessa, Dawn, and Jenny, respectively.
Mr. Farmer had hoped quietly for a son, but Jenny would forever remain his youngest. Yet, Mr. Farmer was not the ungrateful type, and he was determined to give his daughters a very round education.
'Farmer' was their surname, as it had been for hundreds of years, ever since the days in which one's latter name was their occupation, a la 'Periwinkle, Farmer' or 'Josephat, Smith.' Mr. Farmer was a man who treasured tradition, and had happily inherited his father's simple, yet successful farm, and was by all indications keeping it simple and successful.
Anessa spent most of her first two years playing in front of the fireplace with the her favorite ragdoll, which her mother had made. When she was three, she learned how to sweep the floors; when she was four, she learned how to gather wild hen's eggs; when she was five, she learned how to separate wheat from chaff; when she was six, she learned how to brush the infant cattle. When Anessa was seven, she learned many things, including but not limited to; milking the cattle, stitching, shoveling hay, feeding the pigs, catching wild hens, and playing the fiddle.
This last lesson was the one that excited Anessa the most, as it meant that now she could contribute to the foot-stompin' hootenany the farming community put on every Natunda. It really didn't matter that her notes were simplistic or off key, because it was about the spirit, really, more so than the music.
By Anessa's eighth birthday, she and her sisters had all developed very distinctive personalities. Marie was the mother-hen; a bit bossy, but always looking out for her sisters. Anessa was laid-back, almost to a fault; she gladly participated in any task which she was given, but had almost no self-motivation. Dawn was the princess; at five, she'd already taken quite well to sewing, and loved to help with the washing. Jenny was the baby; she had a tendency of becoming distracted during her chores (and a tomboy streak-- if Dawn was screaming, it was probably because she found a lizard in some of Jenny's laundry).
Despite their bickering -- or perhaps because of it -- the four sisters were close. Mrs. Farmer was soft but quietly strong, while Mr. Farmer was stern yet warmly loving. Their chores were difficult yet rewarding, and (even though Dawn had an extra set of lungs just for complaining) no one resented the work. The community was strong and rough and warm, just like the hands of the farmers it comprised.
It was in this world that Anessa matured, through years full of adventures in the wheat fields and the schoolhouse, music in the living room and around the bonfire, and family in and without blood.
Anessa showed somewhat more interest in the more mechanical aspects of farming -- the tractors, tillers, sorters, and the like -- than her sisters, and so this is the area to which her chores inclined. She and Mr. Farmer would spend sunsets together repairing the machinery, and when they came in, Dawn would invariably cluck her tongue at their oily faces and hands, and Mrs. Farmer would simply smile sweetly and bring them their stew.
When Anessa was thirteen, a wild hound attacked the cattle, dragging off a pregnant sow. Mr. Farmer decided then that it was time Marie and Anessa learned how to fire a blaster. For the next few weeks, their evenings were filled with red flashes and loud zing!s as they peppered metal barrels with holes.
One night, when Mr. Farmer, was at a Town Council meeting, Jenny came barreling into the house, screaming. The wild hound was back, and just outside the house. Anessa could hear the hound's snarls and the frantic shrieking of a wild hen. She and Marie looked at the blaster on the wall, and looked at each other, but both were frozen by the horrible noises. Mrs. Farmer calmly set her sewing down, stood, lifted the blaster off the wall, pushed the screen door open, and leveled the blaster. There was a flash of red light, and then silence. Mrs. Farmer then hung the blaster back on the wall, and ushered the children off to bed, exempting them from their nighttime chores. The girls had a profound respect for their mother, after that.
Anessa soon grew to that age where girls start noticing boys in that special new way, and boys start noticing girls in that special new way. There was a boy, Evan, whose banjo playing Anessa had often accompanied with her fiddle. Mutually, their friendship developed into romantic affection, though neither knew their feelings were reciprocated by the other. Marie's teasing always made Anessa blush, while Dawn swooned over the romance and Jenny was flabbergasted that Anessa wanted to hang out with a 'stinky boy'.
However, a new girl came to town, with blonde ringlets and an exotic accent; the city-born niece of old Mrs. Bell. She stole Evan's eye and attention, and Anessa quietly relinquished her friend.
Unlike Marie, who would go on to fall in love with the most respectable boy in town, and Dawn, who once coming of courting age had a new beaux every month, Anessa's love-life remained rather tranquil, much as she was.
At age 16, Anessa was quite adept with the fiddle; playing the instrument was perhaps the only thing she would do without prompting. She and her father had earned their reputation as the best duet in town, and often found themselves playing at weddings, funerals, and harvest celebrations. There was nothing Anessa liked more, however, than to sit in solitude at the edge of the town's broad lake, and make her fiddle sing.
It was during her seventeenth year that Anessa experienced her most exciting -- and traumatizing -- adventure yet. It was dusk, and Anessa had just finished rounding up the cattle. She was dismounting her horse, and had the reigns wrapped around her wrist, when one of those mysterious noises, the sort that invokes naive curiosity from humans and utter terror from animals, spooked the Cattle. It was as if someone had set fire to all their tails, and they all surged so frantically, they forgot the sting of the electric fence. Anessa watched in weird fascination as, in slow motion, the first layer of cattle convulsed and twitched, but pushed forward until the fence snapped. It was the last thing Anessa saw before Anessa heard a strange pop and the world turned upside-down. Her horse had spooked as well, suddenly taking off, and was now dragging her across the ground. Anessa could feel nothing but a hollow feeling in her shoulder, and an intense knowing that she needed to free her hand. The world seemed to tumble forever, before finally, it was still. Thunder cracked, and rain began to fall, but this time her horse stood still, and stooped to sniff Anessa's face. Then, the pain finally caught up, and Anessa began to scream.
She later learned that the sound which had spooked the cattle was one said to resemble that of a metal rail-train -- the sound of a twister. The twister had fallen suddenly and unexpectedly, out of the edge of a thunderstorm, as twisters sometimes do. Irony works in mysterious ways, and her near-death at the hands of the stampede had mostly likely saved her from death by wooden shrapnel. It is also worth noting that her horse stopped at nearly exactly the moment the twister dissipated, having dragged her nearly a quarter mile. The doctors to which Anessa would recount the story would claim this as a coincidence, but the farmers knew better. Anessa's horse had known exactly what it was doing.
Though the wild ride had saved Anessa from a fatal weather phenomenon, that was not to say it had left her unscathed. Her body was covered in cuts and bruises, and the 'pop' she'd heard had been her shoulder dislocating. The doctor, who'd been called when Mr. Farmer had heard his daughter's screams, and discovered the condition of her and the cattle, could -- and did -- wrestle Anessa's shoulder into place. A great deal of the pain faded, and she was then much more aware, for the first time noticing the steady stream of Marie's feverish lecture. But Anessa knew all the harsh words and gestures were just Marie's way of being scared and
worried, and instead focused on Mrs. Farmer, who had simply been holding her hand.
The injury was not so simply fixed, however, as Anessa found herself almost entirely unable to move her arm. The muscles and tendons were so severely damaged that without surgery, Anessa would never be able to use her arm properly again. Mr. Farmer needed only to see Anessa's fleeting, guilty glance towards her fiddle to give his consent. Anessa would be taken via shuttle to the hospital that floated among the shipyards which orbited the planet. It was much better equipped than the hospital on the surface (which was really more of a clinic) and dealt with many industrial injuries similar to Anessa's.
While on the shuttle, through a haze of pain and drugs, Anessa found herself looking out the window. The sight seized hold of her mind in a most peculiar way. Never before had she seen anything quite so amazing as the mountains, under whose shadow she'd lived her whole life, growing smaller and smaller and smaller, until they looked like little more than ripples in sand.
Anessa spent twenty hours in orbit. Her shoulder was repaired, the surgeons satisfied with the initial stages of her recovery, and she was sent back to the surface, and this time, kept her nose plastered to the glass. Between the drugs and the sheer amount of stimulus -- things she'd never seen before, massive ships being built, metal buildings in the sky, scanning machines and medical monitors, men with green skin or bald, bumpy heads -- memories of that day faded into an incoherent haze. And yet, one thing remained clear (as things pertaining to one's destiny often do); the view of the world from the sky.
Anessa recovered well, and after six months, the only evidence that remained of her brush with death and disability was a few white scars.
When Anessa was seventeen, Marie, then nineteen, married the previously mentioned most-respectable-boy-in-town. It was a beautiful ceremony, at which Mr. Farmer and Anessa (very victoriously, I might add) played the fiddle, along with the whole grand band -- skin drums and cello, stick-bow and forte, and, as it were, the banjo, played by none other than Evan. Marie was, of course, enjoying her evening, Dawn was flirting and Jenny was bonding with a few boys over the joys of frog-catching (she'd never quite grown out of the critter fascination, though she'd grown into some decorum). And so, once the band had dissolved, she found herself talking to Evan.
They'd passed here and there over the past few years -- for instance, Evan's family brought greenberry preserves over after Anessa's surgery -- but it had been years since they'd really talked, like they were now. Evan mentioned how he'd grown out of his fascination with the new girl (she was apparently infuriatingly fussy) and had missed Anessa's company. Anessa remained non-committal; she'd let the river of life carry her far beyond Evan.
Even so, over the next year, their friendship rebuilt. Anessa was glad for the company, as Marie was busy with her newfound life. Anessa's responsibilities at the farm increased, now that Marie was no longer around to do her chores, but all three girls picked up the slack. Anessa hadn't realized, until then, just how close she and Marie had been, but Anessa adjusted, as she always did.
In fact, as she turned eighteen, it seemed that Anessa adjusted a little too well. Mr. and Mrs. Farmer grew concerned that nothing seemed to motivate Anessa. She was a very hard worker, and did all her jobs completely, but never seemed to initiate anything. Mr. Farmer was not the sort to automatically assume that his children would want to inherit his farm. He hoped that one would, and Anessa seemed the best fit, but she'd never expressed any direct interest. She'd never expressed any direct interest in any occupation, actually. Neither did Anessa seem interested in marrying and raising a family. Mr. Farmer did not worry that Anessa's life would amount to nothing -- rather, he worried deeply that she would spend her life complacently following others' suggestions. He wanted her to want something, wanted her to have a passion, and Mrs. Farmer shared this sentiment. But passion is one of those things that, frustratingly, a person must kindle themselves, and so the Farmer parents simply watched, and waited.
If you are the sort, that often looks around and staves off boredom with the little details, you might have often seen the military propaganda posters; The ones with pictures of happy cadets in glamorous positions, looking rather pleased with themselves. These people are actors. And, if you are the sort that realizes these people are actors, and that reality is significantly different, then you might wonder who would ever respond to such a poster.
Anessa was one of those people who did. It was not because of the pictures of happy cadets in glamorous positions. It was not because those happy cadets looked pleased with themselves. It was one word, in little white print at the bottom, among a small bunch of words describing potential positions. 'Pilot'. It was that word that stirred a strange, foreign feeling deep in Anessa's chest; a whiff of a long-forgotten memory, a vague, misty shape growing closer. That word was more important that 'risk' or 'obligation' or 'life-threatening' or 'Sith'. Anessa knew, for the very first time, something very definite about her future, and she felt, for the very first time, somewhat freed from that mire of meaninglessness that had been nagging the back of her head for the past couple years. She was going to be a Pilot.
People asked Mr. Farmer how he felt about Anessa's choice being so much different from what he'd had in mind for her daughter, but he set them quite straight. The only thing he wanted for his daughter, was for her to have a passion. And Mrs. Farmer felt the same.
So, Anessa left her mother, her father, Marie, Dawn and Jenny, the Hootenannies, and, yes, Evan behind. She was no longer being ushered along by the river of life -- she was being called by the sky.
And so Magnolia Anessa Farmer (who would hear herself referred to by entomological terms far more often than her own name, over the next two months) stepped into Boot Camp.
It was a challenging ordeal, certainly. But Anessa surprised herself. Wrangling cattle, hauling barrels, shoveling hay, and walking almost everywhere had left her somewhat prepared for working her body to the bone. And unlike a significant percentage of her peers, she had no trouble blindly following orders. It wasn't that she no self respect -- as did a few hopefulls now reduced to sniveling lumps of penitence -- it was simply the fact that all she wanted to do was fly, and she'd do whatever it took. This is what it took.
After several aptitude tests, all of which Anessa passed solidly (except, that is, Galactic Politics and Astrography) Pilot training began. It is very difficult to explain that feeling that Anessa felt, but I will attempt to at least give you some idea. It is a feeling, when being so high above the earth, and looking so far down below, of being very tall and very, very small, at the same time. It is a feeling of awe. It is a feeling that can only be understood, if one is one of those particular people who, when looking out the window of an aircraft, feels it. If you are ever on a passenger craft, and spy a person looking simply out the window, with a pensive look on their face, then chances are they are feeling this feeling.
A poet once called it a "Lonely impulse of delight". That is as much as can be said on the matter.
During her months in pilot training -- and indefinitely thereafter -- it was this desire to be in the air that drove all of Anessa's actions. She studied diligently and worked hard, braving early mornings and late nights for the chance to earn more flight time.
At this point, it would have been extremely unfortunate if Anessa had turned out to be a very poor pilot. Indeed, she was definitely not the most talented there. But talent is not everything, and Anessa's passion carried her skills swiftly along. She was not a good pilot. She was a great pilot, always pushing herself and her craft.
Anessa did not pour all her time into training, however. Growing up on a farm had taught her the value of rest and recouperation. She was still relatively laid-back, and easily made friends among her comrades. One such friend was Aiden, a boy whose upbringing had been quite different from Anessa's. He was fretfully insecure, from the city-world of coruscant. Even surrounded by all the technology and gadgetry of the Sith, Anessa couldn't imagine a planet with no open spaces. Perhaps it was pity, perhaps a deep familial feeling, but Anessa began to look out for Aiden.
Anessa could not remember ever being so happy as that day when a salute and a nod made her a fully-fledged pilot. It was a fantastic nineteenth birthday present. Anessa took a few weeks of leave to visit her family, met only with congratulations and affection, before diving into her duties as a pilot.
It was shortly therafter that Anessa earned her callsign “Jack”, which, in fact, did not have all that much to do with flying. While on one of the Navy’s larger ships, she and several other pilots came across a relatively small but very grumpy K’lor’slug.
Here is a visual aid:
The creatures were infrequent but notorious pests aboard starships, and this one had just returned from Korribon, seemingly with a stowaway. The other pilots were advocating for calmly reporting the K’lor’slug to their superiors, but Anessa simply shrugged, and said “It’s just a K’lor.” At that moment (impeccable timing for an invertebrate) the K’lor’slug lunged. Anessa side-stepped, pinned the back of its head with a boot, and sliced its neck with her combat knife. The other pilots then called janatorial, instead of their superior officer, and Anessa was henceforth known as ‘Just a K’lor’, shortened to ‘JAK’ and often understood as ‘Jack’.
When questioned about it later, she simply said that every so often, the things would make their way into her hometown from the shipyard shuttles.
The next year comprised more intensive training than real missions. They ran a great deal of combat exercises and simulations, much at the whim of the Sith Aristocrats. Anessa, or ‘Jack’, now, didn’t mind, just so long as she got to fly. And fly she did. She’d been assigned to a solo-fighter, the most independent (and dangerous) of all the piloting positions. Each model she trained in felt just as fluid as the last, just as much an extension of the sky.
She fit in well with the other Sith soldiers -- most of whom were men -- as she was simply an authentic, easy-going sort of person. Some of her comrades hated the Republic, others had been pressured to draft, and still others were just looking for someone to fight. However, they were all brothers. They all depended on each other, and trusted each other. Such is life in the military.
A few months after Jack’s twentieth birthday, things began to liven up, and the roil showed no sign of stopping even as her twenty-first passed. There were real battles, against real Republic forces, conquests and defeats, amazing victories and steep casualties. Planets changed hands, recruiting kicked up several notches, and there were murmurs of the return of the other Sith, the Jedi kind. Jack found herself in dogfight after dogfight, her skill pushing her to the front line in all space battles, and was rather apathetic towards everything else. She wasn’t fighting for the Sith or against the Republic, she was fighting to fly.
What did it matter who won or lost? Jack knew, somewhere still and peaceful deep inside her, that she was going to die. As she saw fighters fall back into the atmosphere, burning to dust, she did not pretend that she was exempt to that fate. There was little ceremony or pomp for those who died, and Jack did not expect any for herself. Only one purpose, one thought, one motivation existed in her mind, and that was to fly. If to die was the price of that ecstasy of flight, then so be it.
So be it.
Password: Bylgia
RP Sample:
Jack loved this fighter. Some complained that it was too touchy, but that's what Jack loved about it. She barely had to nudge it, barely had to whisper, before it knew what she asked and enthusiastically obeyed.
"Mission completed," the radio crackled. "Time to come back in."
Jack whooped. She ushered her fighter into a barrel roll and tumbled through the air. The fighter shuddered but Jack knew its limits, knew she could push them. Adrenaline pounded through her her chest as the ground spiraled closer, before she suddenly pushed down on the joystick, leveling out to skim the ground; upside down. Jack breathed deep the feeling, before leveling out and joining the rest of her squadron.
~~
"You should have seen it," Bug said. "I thought an aeleron had gone, the fighter was spinning so fast."
"I didn't know you could fly one of those upside down, either," Acer mused.
"Heh, you can't." Bug and Acer looked up as Micah Newton -- his nametag said -- approached. "It's scientifically impossible."
Bug just chortled. "You don't know Jack."
