Post by Moonfire on Dec 23, 2011 0:46:26 GMT -5
Faction: Sith Military
Department: Navy
Rank: Petty Officer 3rd Class
Name: Richter Kast
Race: Human
Age: 24
Height: 6'ft
Weight: 157lbs
Birth place: Taris
Appearance: If you were to scan a room of Sith, Richter would hardly stand out. There's nothing particularly remarkable about his features, or his behavior, and he fits neatly into the box of your standard Sith soldier.
He has a runner's build, tall and lanky. His almost gangly appearance is less a product of lack of strength, and more of lean, dense muscle. Richter's facial features are average, with a widish mouth easily set into a goofy grin. His light brown hair is slightly longer than regulation, but within the realm of grace, especially since he's given his superiors no reason to dislike him. Richter's eyes are a darker brown, contrasting with his pale, clear complexion. His only real distinguishing mark is straight, vertical scar on his forehead, at the edge of his hairline, subtle enough that it usually takes a good bit of time to notice.
Richter commands no reaction when he walks into a room, but those who interact with him usually form an opinion quickly; either they see that he's a good soul, or sigh him off as too soft. There's a particular furrow to his brow when he sets upon a task, and outward reflection of that inward determination. Though most of Richter's traits take time to notice, there is one that he hopes is never noticed at all. Richter's left hand is plagued by a slight tremor, one that started up with little explanation, and has yet to go away. As a gunner, he knows it would jeopardize his career, but he's certain it hasn't yet affected his performance. What the Sith don't know, can't hurt them.
Personality: Once one actually notices and gets to talking with Richter, they'd find him a rather standard young man. Goodnatured and agreeable, Richter prides himself on his likability.
A rather laid backing fellow, Richter doesn't get caught up in the politics or power struggles amongst the crew. Always happy to be there, hes not one to complain, even if something is bothering him. Forever the worker bee, Richter will move relentlessly towards a goal until its completion, doing everything in his power to see it through.
Hesitant about change, Richter finds comfort in routine. Relishing in stability and order, he likes his room to be clean and organized, his friendships to be blissfully drama free and his time on duty uneventful. In the off chance Richter actually has to do something he falls into like everything else he does, with mindless determination to complete the task before him.
Not the most excitable fellow, he'll take events in stride, rolling as best he can with the punches. All in all Mr. Kast is a loyal, kind friend who gets along better with his bug pals than most people. A friendly and hardworking gent, hes one of the most invaluable people you could have on your team.
Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 7
Leadership: 5
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 3
Ranged Weapons: 7
Alignment: +4
Bio:
Humble Beginnings[/u]
The Galaxy is not a kind place, but Taris is one of those places that is especially cruel. It shows neither favor nor prejudice, rather, it simply feeds on all the life made available to it. The gritty slums of Taris have reduced many men to shells. However, sometimes, in some inexplicable way, a bit of life finds its way into Taris that refuses to be consumed.
Such a life was born into Richter. He was a healthy boy, from a hardy -- but weary -- family. He was an energetic, irrepressible child, though sometimes that enthusiasm got the best of him. For instance, when Richter was three, he was so delighted by the cluster of fireflies outside his window that he bolted through dark house (intending to go wake his parents) and right into a wall. A few hours in the hospital saw him back to normal, but his forehead still bears a scar from the epic battle.
Richter’s older sister, Lorraine, was exactly six years, two months, and three days old when Richter was born. Sissy, Lorraine’s Rag doll, was utterly peeved that Richter was a boy, but Prince, a worn tin soldier and Sissy’s husband, thought that it was fantastic. Lorraine herself was undecided. Until, that is, their mother proudly placed the little (somewhat smelly) bundle in her arms, and he began to make the most horrid, wretched sound in the world. At that moment, Lorraine discovered within herself a burning conviction; Richter was an intrusion on their happy family, and he must be stopped.
However, as the boy grew older, he showed a remarkable inability to comprehend this fact. As soon as he realized he had hands, he reached is hands out at her, and as soon as he figured out that those other hand-ish-things, the ones with the stubby fingers that tasted good but couldn’t grab things, were for walking, he began to follow her around.
In fact, as he grew older, that occupied much of his time, when he wasn’t helping their mother, Lorelei, clean and cook, or their father, Robi, fix things up around the house. Because, you see, Richter little more than to help his parents. He loved to see the smiles on their faces, and loved to think of ways he could help out without being asked, just to watch their eyes light up.
This peeved Lorraine to no end. She could not comprehend that just because they had more praise for Richter, did not mean that they loved her less. Instead, if only fueled her resentment. But what bothered her most, what aggravated her to no end, was that she could not deter Richter. There were some days, when she’d say something particularly spiteful, and his eyes would well up with tears and he’d go running to mother or father. But then Lorraine would be punished, and inevitably within a few hours, Richter would be back to his old self.
It seemed to Lorelei that Richter was only a few months old when it was time for him to be off to school. Richter enjoyed school very much, and had a knack for making friends. What he did not have, however, was a knack for making the right friends. It often took some very stern words from the teacher, or a few scrapes and bruises, to realize that some person or other might not have been the best choice.
In the end, Richter managed to survive his first few years of school intact, and proved to be a very average student. He still spent most of his time helping his mother and father, but also discovered a love for collecting bugs. It just didn’t seem right for little creatures with such shiny shells and beautiful wings to be doomed do being squished. He had shelf upon shelf of little glass jars, each with its own tenant. As he got older, the bugs got bigger and bigger and lasted longer and longer. If Lorraine was feeling especially spiteful, it was the bugs that she targeted, as Richter never failed to shed a tear over a crushed carapace. She was not, however, a cruel girl, and always retreated in shame from his sobs.
In fact, by the time Richter was ten, his bugs were probably better friends than most of the kids at school. They could all feel that drain, the dark reality of life in the slums. Richter, however, refused to. Perhaps he was inspired by Lorraine’s unwavering optimism (when she wasn’t speaking to him), or perhaps it was just that bit of life seeded inside of him.
While Richter turned to his collection for comfort, Lorraine turned to dancing. Something about that movement melted her worries away. And she was good, talented even, which earned her the attention she craved so deeply. But it also drew the wrong sort of attention, and from that came the wrong sort of decisions, and by the time Lorraine was seventeen, she’d become a mother.
Even so, the family had survived more trying challenges. Instead of splitting them apart, Lorraine’s motherhood brought them closer together, and her little boy, Robin was welcomed with warm arms into the family. He was more of a younger brother to Richter than a nephew, and more of a son to Lorelei than a grandson.
Lorraine never saw Robin’s father, a Zeltron who had been a... client, again.
The family settled into a rhythm, and the next few years passed as quickly as one could expect years in the slums to pass. However, sixteen seemed to be a bad year for the Kast children. This time, Richter made a misstep that could not be so easily rectified.
Just a Spot of Trouble[/u]
It began with noble intentions, but those were what got Richter into the most trouble. He couldn’t just stand by, couldn’t just watch, not this time. He knew the kid, Rax, and his leering grins, new that he was tied up in a gang. He didn’t know the girl that Rax had backed into a corner, but he knew what her screams meant. Knew he had to do something.
So he did. But while Richter’s heart was in the right place, his mind was not. He could take Rax in a fight, and he did. Richter approached, unnoticed, and shoved him away from the girl, who took off. Anger, outrage swelled in Richter’s chest, that somebody could intend to do something so horrible to someone else. That rage drove his fists, and even though Richter wasn’t the best fighter, he had one distinct and overwhelming advantage. He was sober. When Rax began to beg, beg for him to stop, Richter did. Rax’s lip was split and blood dribbled from his nose, blood that was smeared on Richter’s fists. A sick, wretched, guilty feeling twisted his gut. He’d gone too far. His throat burned as he struggled to swallow. Richter turned his back on the sobbing heap and ran, ran as fast as he could, ran for his mother’s arm and his father’s laugh and away from the monster he knew was right at his heels.
The Taris underworld, grimy though it was, had laws. And a government. But those laws tended to be far less consequential than the unspoken ones, most of which concerned how to avoid being lynched by the various gangs. Obviously, one does not cross a gang.
Richter had crossed a gang. Rax was a member of the Rakghouls, a ruthless but thankfully uncreative group. Richter told Lorelei and Robi everything, whose deliberation on the matter was hastened by the new set of decorative blaster burns on the front of their house, courtesy of a Rakghoul driveby. Richter could not stay.
So, he was sent to go live with his grandparents. This required some significant accommodating, as his grandparents' only wealth lay in their property in the upper level, which was barely comfortable for the elderly couple, and quite snug with the addition of Richter. As much as it pained him to leave his family behind, and as guilty as all the relative luxuries of the upper level made him feel, he offered no resistance. Nothing he could do would change their decision, so he was determined to make as much good out of their sacrifice as possible. Besides, maybe Lorraine would finally be happy.
Last Ditch Effort[/u]
Richter worked diligently in his studies, and graduated in the top quarter of his class, despite his mediocre abilities. However, what should have been an occasion for celebration was overshadowed by heartbreak. Robi had been in the wrong place at the wrong time (all too easy in the underworld), and had taken a blaster shot to the spine -- collateral damage in a driveby. His legs were paralyzed, the rest of his body wracked with pains. It would be months before he could take care of himself again, let alone work. That burden would fall to Lorelei and Lorraine, and whatever charity they could scrounge up.
Richter longed to return to his family, but Lorelei forbid it. This put on Richter’s heart a weight that he could not reconcile. He understood that Lorelei and Robi wanted what was best for him, but what if what was best for him was best for them? In this state, Richter began to wander the streets of the upper level, feeling wretchedly guilty that he didn’t have to watch his back at every corner, and feeling foolish because of how utterly stupid it was to feel guilty.
A piece of paper rattled against a bulletin board, and with nothing better to divert his attention, Richter gave it a closer look.
YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN WANTED FOR SITH NAVY
It read. A number caught Richter’s eye, and his eyes grew wide as he realized it followed the word ‘pay’.
Do your part to restore peace to the Galaxy. Join the revolution.
The words echoed around Richter’s head for the rest of the day. That pay was more than he could get ever get on Taris, even if he continued on to a tertiary degree. And since the military would provide for almost all of his needs, almost all of those credits would make it back to his family. At the very lease, Lorraine wouldn’t have to work, and at best, over time they could save up enough to move out of the slums for good. Maybe even leave Taris, if things worked out and he got promoted.
He couldn’t have forgetten the comm-direct number on the flyer if he’d wanted to. So, it was settled.
Richter would enlist in the Sith Navy.
Movin' On Up[/u]
The Sith Military somewhat surpassed Richter’s expectations, in both intensity and demand. Even so, Richter rose to all the challenges presented to him, not by talent or natural affinity, but simply through perseverance. Richter absolutely refused to accept failure -- his family had too much riding on this. Anytime the job’s inherent danger began to make him feel nervous, he remembered that Lorelei and Robi and Lorraine and Robin lived every day in the line of fire, and his fears were quelled.
Richter had enlisted at eighteen, and by the time he was nineteen, all his training was completed and he entered the active ranks of the navy. Through the somewhat mysterious assorting the Sith performed, and because of his mediocre skills in other areas, Richter was assigned to be a gunner, almost by default.
The Sith Military grew greatly in the first two years of Richter’s service, as did his parents’ savings account. He called his family whenever he could, pinching as many pennies as he could to send home as much as possible. They were still where they had been, but Lorelei only had to work part-time, and they were in no danger of starving. And they were proud of him. So very, very proud of him, and Richter was proud of the Sith. Proud of the revolution he was participating in. He would do his small part, his humble best, not only to improve his family’s life, but to improve the galaxy. And if he did die, a possibility of which he was never in denial, then the ‘Widow’s Pension’ the Sith provided would take care of his family when he could not. Truly, this was what he was meant to do with his life.
During that period, before the impending war for freedom had become overt, Richter was assigned to train in a single-pilot single-gunner fighter. It did not take long for Richter to develop an opinion about the pilot to whom he’d been assigned. She was completely, utterly, irrevocably insane.
Oh, she seemed normal enough, when he met her before the flight, but as soon as that woman got behind the yoke, all sense and reason fled. Richter was sure that she had broken at least four of the manufacturer specified operator guidelines for that aircraft. For whatever reason, she went by the name ‘Jack’. And yet, as if to prove that the Galaxy has a sense of humor, the two became great friends.
Shortly after Richter’s twenty-first birthday, the revolution emerged from its secrecy. The war quickly reached full swing. He and Jack were assigned to the same unit and flew together often, developing that special kind of camaraderie that only comes from facing death together.
In fact, Richter found a new sort of family in his comrades. There was an amazing unity that came from sharing a common goal and going to such lengths to reach it. Over the next year, Richter earned no special attention as a soldier, but always accomplished every task set before him. He had settled well into the military life, to the point where he couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Especially not when the fate of the Galaxy was at stake.
Password: Bylgia
RP Sample: A low buzzing noise filled the air. Nagging and bothersome, Richter Kast tried his best to ignore the faint sound. The light above his cot made the infernal noise every time it he turned it on, flickering lightly. He had complained to one of the officers about it, but weeks had past and nothing had changed yet, and he expected they were in no hurry to do so.
His eyes scanned over the datapad before him, an interesting piece on insects native to Ruusan, but his concentration waved as the light began its flickering dances once more, before he knew it he had read the same line three times. With a groan the young man turned off the datapad, shutting his eyes to the sparsely furnished room he once shared on the ship. His newest bunk mate hadn't arrived yet, no doubt eager to replace the man who had been blown out of his gunner seat by an enemy shot.
Tappity tap! Came on the light metallic door before it opened with a swoosh, revealing not one but two grunts, bags in tow. The taller Rhodian mumbled something to the other who laughed.
"You're right, Rheese, this place could use a lil work, hey who are you?" Said the rather bulk human, glaring down at Richter who was still settled in his bunk.
"Petty Officer Kast. This is my room..." He said quietly, not moving from his bunk.
"Not any more, this is mine and Rheese's room, latest orders from the Admiral." Said the hulking man with a laugh from the Rhodian at his side.
"There must be some mistake, I'll speak to Gurney..." Richter said with a low sigh, setting the datapad down and heading out into the bowels of the ship, on the hunt for his commanding officer.
Within a few minutes he had caught up to Gurney, and waited patiently at attention to be acknowledged. When the officer finally noticed the tall, gangly man his eyes opened in surprise.
"Kast, what are you still doing here?"
"Well, Sir, there are some new recruits moving into my bunk... Was there a mistake of some sort?" Richter said quietly, he always dreaded speaking to people.
"No mistake, kid. You've been reassigned. Pack your stuff, you're moving off ship."
"Oh that explains... Wait what? Where am I going, sir?"
"You're being assigned as a Gunner on a new ship, your new partner should be around here somewhere." The short man said, turning about to try and find the new pilot. "Ah, there she is. Her name is Anessa, be polite and keep her grounded. It was a pleasure working with you, Kast. Good luck out there."
With one glance towards the female pilot, Richter swallowed hard. What was he getting into now?
Department: Navy
Rank: Petty Officer 3rd Class
Name: Richter Kast
Race: Human
Age: 24
Height: 6'ft
Weight: 157lbs
Birth place: Taris
Appearance: If you were to scan a room of Sith, Richter would hardly stand out. There's nothing particularly remarkable about his features, or his behavior, and he fits neatly into the box of your standard Sith soldier.
He has a runner's build, tall and lanky. His almost gangly appearance is less a product of lack of strength, and more of lean, dense muscle. Richter's facial features are average, with a widish mouth easily set into a goofy grin. His light brown hair is slightly longer than regulation, but within the realm of grace, especially since he's given his superiors no reason to dislike him. Richter's eyes are a darker brown, contrasting with his pale, clear complexion. His only real distinguishing mark is straight, vertical scar on his forehead, at the edge of his hairline, subtle enough that it usually takes a good bit of time to notice.
Richter commands no reaction when he walks into a room, but those who interact with him usually form an opinion quickly; either they see that he's a good soul, or sigh him off as too soft. There's a particular furrow to his brow when he sets upon a task, and outward reflection of that inward determination. Though most of Richter's traits take time to notice, there is one that he hopes is never noticed at all. Richter's left hand is plagued by a slight tremor, one that started up with little explanation, and has yet to go away. As a gunner, he knows it would jeopardize his career, but he's certain it hasn't yet affected his performance. What the Sith don't know, can't hurt them.
Personality: Once one actually notices and gets to talking with Richter, they'd find him a rather standard young man. Goodnatured and agreeable, Richter prides himself on his likability.
A rather laid backing fellow, Richter doesn't get caught up in the politics or power struggles amongst the crew. Always happy to be there, hes not one to complain, even if something is bothering him. Forever the worker bee, Richter will move relentlessly towards a goal until its completion, doing everything in his power to see it through.
Hesitant about change, Richter finds comfort in routine. Relishing in stability and order, he likes his room to be clean and organized, his friendships to be blissfully drama free and his time on duty uneventful. In the off chance Richter actually has to do something he falls into like everything else he does, with mindless determination to complete the task before him.
Not the most excitable fellow, he'll take events in stride, rolling as best he can with the punches. All in all Mr. Kast is a loyal, kind friend who gets along better with his bug pals than most people. A friendly and hardworking gent, hes one of the most invaluable people you could have on your team.
Skills:
- Fast Runner
- Jack of All Trades- Has a Little bit of experience in everything, but isn't exactly good at any one thing. (Tech, Mechanics, Emergency Med.)
- Experienced Gunner
- Disappears in a Crowd
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 7
Leadership: 5
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 3
Ranged Weapons: 7
Alignment: +4
Bio:
Humble Beginnings[/u]
The Galaxy is not a kind place, but Taris is one of those places that is especially cruel. It shows neither favor nor prejudice, rather, it simply feeds on all the life made available to it. The gritty slums of Taris have reduced many men to shells. However, sometimes, in some inexplicable way, a bit of life finds its way into Taris that refuses to be consumed.
Such a life was born into Richter. He was a healthy boy, from a hardy -- but weary -- family. He was an energetic, irrepressible child, though sometimes that enthusiasm got the best of him. For instance, when Richter was three, he was so delighted by the cluster of fireflies outside his window that he bolted through dark house (intending to go wake his parents) and right into a wall. A few hours in the hospital saw him back to normal, but his forehead still bears a scar from the epic battle.
Richter’s older sister, Lorraine, was exactly six years, two months, and three days old when Richter was born. Sissy, Lorraine’s Rag doll, was utterly peeved that Richter was a boy, but Prince, a worn tin soldier and Sissy’s husband, thought that it was fantastic. Lorraine herself was undecided. Until, that is, their mother proudly placed the little (somewhat smelly) bundle in her arms, and he began to make the most horrid, wretched sound in the world. At that moment, Lorraine discovered within herself a burning conviction; Richter was an intrusion on their happy family, and he must be stopped.
However, as the boy grew older, he showed a remarkable inability to comprehend this fact. As soon as he realized he had hands, he reached is hands out at her, and as soon as he figured out that those other hand-ish-things, the ones with the stubby fingers that tasted good but couldn’t grab things, were for walking, he began to follow her around.
In fact, as he grew older, that occupied much of his time, when he wasn’t helping their mother, Lorelei, clean and cook, or their father, Robi, fix things up around the house. Because, you see, Richter little more than to help his parents. He loved to see the smiles on their faces, and loved to think of ways he could help out without being asked, just to watch their eyes light up.
This peeved Lorraine to no end. She could not comprehend that just because they had more praise for Richter, did not mean that they loved her less. Instead, if only fueled her resentment. But what bothered her most, what aggravated her to no end, was that she could not deter Richter. There were some days, when she’d say something particularly spiteful, and his eyes would well up with tears and he’d go running to mother or father. But then Lorraine would be punished, and inevitably within a few hours, Richter would be back to his old self.
It seemed to Lorelei that Richter was only a few months old when it was time for him to be off to school. Richter enjoyed school very much, and had a knack for making friends. What he did not have, however, was a knack for making the right friends. It often took some very stern words from the teacher, or a few scrapes and bruises, to realize that some person or other might not have been the best choice.
In the end, Richter managed to survive his first few years of school intact, and proved to be a very average student. He still spent most of his time helping his mother and father, but also discovered a love for collecting bugs. It just didn’t seem right for little creatures with such shiny shells and beautiful wings to be doomed do being squished. He had shelf upon shelf of little glass jars, each with its own tenant. As he got older, the bugs got bigger and bigger and lasted longer and longer. If Lorraine was feeling especially spiteful, it was the bugs that she targeted, as Richter never failed to shed a tear over a crushed carapace. She was not, however, a cruel girl, and always retreated in shame from his sobs.
In fact, by the time Richter was ten, his bugs were probably better friends than most of the kids at school. They could all feel that drain, the dark reality of life in the slums. Richter, however, refused to. Perhaps he was inspired by Lorraine’s unwavering optimism (when she wasn’t speaking to him), or perhaps it was just that bit of life seeded inside of him.
While Richter turned to his collection for comfort, Lorraine turned to dancing. Something about that movement melted her worries away. And she was good, talented even, which earned her the attention she craved so deeply. But it also drew the wrong sort of attention, and from that came the wrong sort of decisions, and by the time Lorraine was seventeen, she’d become a mother.
Even so, the family had survived more trying challenges. Instead of splitting them apart, Lorraine’s motherhood brought them closer together, and her little boy, Robin was welcomed with warm arms into the family. He was more of a younger brother to Richter than a nephew, and more of a son to Lorelei than a grandson.
Lorraine never saw Robin’s father, a Zeltron who had been a... client, again.
The family settled into a rhythm, and the next few years passed as quickly as one could expect years in the slums to pass. However, sixteen seemed to be a bad year for the Kast children. This time, Richter made a misstep that could not be so easily rectified.
Just a Spot of Trouble[/u]
It began with noble intentions, but those were what got Richter into the most trouble. He couldn’t just stand by, couldn’t just watch, not this time. He knew the kid, Rax, and his leering grins, new that he was tied up in a gang. He didn’t know the girl that Rax had backed into a corner, but he knew what her screams meant. Knew he had to do something.
So he did. But while Richter’s heart was in the right place, his mind was not. He could take Rax in a fight, and he did. Richter approached, unnoticed, and shoved him away from the girl, who took off. Anger, outrage swelled in Richter’s chest, that somebody could intend to do something so horrible to someone else. That rage drove his fists, and even though Richter wasn’t the best fighter, he had one distinct and overwhelming advantage. He was sober. When Rax began to beg, beg for him to stop, Richter did. Rax’s lip was split and blood dribbled from his nose, blood that was smeared on Richter’s fists. A sick, wretched, guilty feeling twisted his gut. He’d gone too far. His throat burned as he struggled to swallow. Richter turned his back on the sobbing heap and ran, ran as fast as he could, ran for his mother’s arm and his father’s laugh and away from the monster he knew was right at his heels.
The Taris underworld, grimy though it was, had laws. And a government. But those laws tended to be far less consequential than the unspoken ones, most of which concerned how to avoid being lynched by the various gangs. Obviously, one does not cross a gang.
Richter had crossed a gang. Rax was a member of the Rakghouls, a ruthless but thankfully uncreative group. Richter told Lorelei and Robi everything, whose deliberation on the matter was hastened by the new set of decorative blaster burns on the front of their house, courtesy of a Rakghoul driveby. Richter could not stay.
So, he was sent to go live with his grandparents. This required some significant accommodating, as his grandparents' only wealth lay in their property in the upper level, which was barely comfortable for the elderly couple, and quite snug with the addition of Richter. As much as it pained him to leave his family behind, and as guilty as all the relative luxuries of the upper level made him feel, he offered no resistance. Nothing he could do would change their decision, so he was determined to make as much good out of their sacrifice as possible. Besides, maybe Lorraine would finally be happy.
Last Ditch Effort[/u]
Richter worked diligently in his studies, and graduated in the top quarter of his class, despite his mediocre abilities. However, what should have been an occasion for celebration was overshadowed by heartbreak. Robi had been in the wrong place at the wrong time (all too easy in the underworld), and had taken a blaster shot to the spine -- collateral damage in a driveby. His legs were paralyzed, the rest of his body wracked with pains. It would be months before he could take care of himself again, let alone work. That burden would fall to Lorelei and Lorraine, and whatever charity they could scrounge up.
Richter longed to return to his family, but Lorelei forbid it. This put on Richter’s heart a weight that he could not reconcile. He understood that Lorelei and Robi wanted what was best for him, but what if what was best for him was best for them? In this state, Richter began to wander the streets of the upper level, feeling wretchedly guilty that he didn’t have to watch his back at every corner, and feeling foolish because of how utterly stupid it was to feel guilty.
A piece of paper rattled against a bulletin board, and with nothing better to divert his attention, Richter gave it a closer look.
YOUNG MEN AND WOMEN WANTED FOR SITH NAVY
It read. A number caught Richter’s eye, and his eyes grew wide as he realized it followed the word ‘pay’.
Do your part to restore peace to the Galaxy. Join the revolution.
The words echoed around Richter’s head for the rest of the day. That pay was more than he could get ever get on Taris, even if he continued on to a tertiary degree. And since the military would provide for almost all of his needs, almost all of those credits would make it back to his family. At the very lease, Lorraine wouldn’t have to work, and at best, over time they could save up enough to move out of the slums for good. Maybe even leave Taris, if things worked out and he got promoted.
He couldn’t have forgetten the comm-direct number on the flyer if he’d wanted to. So, it was settled.
Richter would enlist in the Sith Navy.
Movin' On Up[/u]
The Sith Military somewhat surpassed Richter’s expectations, in both intensity and demand. Even so, Richter rose to all the challenges presented to him, not by talent or natural affinity, but simply through perseverance. Richter absolutely refused to accept failure -- his family had too much riding on this. Anytime the job’s inherent danger began to make him feel nervous, he remembered that Lorelei and Robi and Lorraine and Robin lived every day in the line of fire, and his fears were quelled.
Richter had enlisted at eighteen, and by the time he was nineteen, all his training was completed and he entered the active ranks of the navy. Through the somewhat mysterious assorting the Sith performed, and because of his mediocre skills in other areas, Richter was assigned to be a gunner, almost by default.
The Sith Military grew greatly in the first two years of Richter’s service, as did his parents’ savings account. He called his family whenever he could, pinching as many pennies as he could to send home as much as possible. They were still where they had been, but Lorelei only had to work part-time, and they were in no danger of starving. And they were proud of him. So very, very proud of him, and Richter was proud of the Sith. Proud of the revolution he was participating in. He would do his small part, his humble best, not only to improve his family’s life, but to improve the galaxy. And if he did die, a possibility of which he was never in denial, then the ‘Widow’s Pension’ the Sith provided would take care of his family when he could not. Truly, this was what he was meant to do with his life.
During that period, before the impending war for freedom had become overt, Richter was assigned to train in a single-pilot single-gunner fighter. It did not take long for Richter to develop an opinion about the pilot to whom he’d been assigned. She was completely, utterly, irrevocably insane.
Oh, she seemed normal enough, when he met her before the flight, but as soon as that woman got behind the yoke, all sense and reason fled. Richter was sure that she had broken at least four of the manufacturer specified operator guidelines for that aircraft. For whatever reason, she went by the name ‘Jack’. And yet, as if to prove that the Galaxy has a sense of humor, the two became great friends.
Shortly after Richter’s twenty-first birthday, the revolution emerged from its secrecy. The war quickly reached full swing. He and Jack were assigned to the same unit and flew together often, developing that special kind of camaraderie that only comes from facing death together.
In fact, Richter found a new sort of family in his comrades. There was an amazing unity that came from sharing a common goal and going to such lengths to reach it. Over the next year, Richter earned no special attention as a soldier, but always accomplished every task set before him. He had settled well into the military life, to the point where he couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Especially not when the fate of the Galaxy was at stake.
Password: Bylgia
RP Sample: A low buzzing noise filled the air. Nagging and bothersome, Richter Kast tried his best to ignore the faint sound. The light above his cot made the infernal noise every time it he turned it on, flickering lightly. He had complained to one of the officers about it, but weeks had past and nothing had changed yet, and he expected they were in no hurry to do so.
His eyes scanned over the datapad before him, an interesting piece on insects native to Ruusan, but his concentration waved as the light began its flickering dances once more, before he knew it he had read the same line three times. With a groan the young man turned off the datapad, shutting his eyes to the sparsely furnished room he once shared on the ship. His newest bunk mate hadn't arrived yet, no doubt eager to replace the man who had been blown out of his gunner seat by an enemy shot.
Tappity tap! Came on the light metallic door before it opened with a swoosh, revealing not one but two grunts, bags in tow. The taller Rhodian mumbled something to the other who laughed.
"You're right, Rheese, this place could use a lil work, hey who are you?" Said the rather bulk human, glaring down at Richter who was still settled in his bunk.
"Petty Officer Kast. This is my room..." He said quietly, not moving from his bunk.
"Not any more, this is mine and Rheese's room, latest orders from the Admiral." Said the hulking man with a laugh from the Rhodian at his side.
"There must be some mistake, I'll speak to Gurney..." Richter said with a low sigh, setting the datapad down and heading out into the bowels of the ship, on the hunt for his commanding officer.
Within a few minutes he had caught up to Gurney, and waited patiently at attention to be acknowledged. When the officer finally noticed the tall, gangly man his eyes opened in surprise.
"Kast, what are you still doing here?"
"Well, Sir, there are some new recruits moving into my bunk... Was there a mistake of some sort?" Richter said quietly, he always dreaded speaking to people.
"No mistake, kid. You've been reassigned. Pack your stuff, you're moving off ship."
"Oh that explains... Wait what? Where am I going, sir?"
"You're being assigned as a Gunner on a new ship, your new partner should be around here somewhere." The short man said, turning about to try and find the new pilot. "Ah, there she is. Her name is Anessa, be polite and keep her grounded. It was a pleasure working with you, Kast. Good luck out there."
With one glance towards the female pilot, Richter swallowed hard. What was he getting into now?
