Recent content by Rhys Whitley

Her sudden outburst shook Rhys to the bone. So much so that he almost dropped her lightsaber that he'd been thieving under the table while she leaned close over it, his slick and Force shadowed hands the experienced and indiscriminating sort; even double crossing his most treasured friends...

"Bloodthirsty little bats aren't they," he sweetly seduced with a smile. Yet his own personal memory of the Sith turned his disposition sour as he lightheartedly added with a turn of the head, "Vampires with a pestilent skin condition..." But she continued on in a similar vein, regarding her...

"Alone? Well you're not alone you're with me," he exclaimed, his voice suddenly rising in pitch and so in deceit. He merely wished to comfort the girl whom had obviously switched to a sensation of worry and doubt. Though, as with any realistic and worldly person, when he faked a flowery tone of...

Rhys' face suddenly froze, as if all too suddenly disgusted by Tamara's words. Turning blue. As if the thought of sending children to their deaths was just as equally disturbing as butchering pigs. Well, when he wasn't eating them for food. Then it was morally just if to feed a hungry belly, but...

what alter ego...?

"Oh I can imagine," he began, but quickly stifled that rebuttal in favor of secrecy. "Exactly! Wait... Well that's my point. Are-Are you gonna eat that?" He motioned his spork at a cherry tomato on her plate for permission to land a bite. If she permitted him, he'd impale it and whip it up onto...

Rhys' face contorted into a cantankerous conundrum, cocked and bug-eyed. "A chance to change! A chance to change?!? Ha!" His palm banged onto the table upon his utensil, both plates rattling, admittedly painful as his left eye winced; physically exclaiming his protest and consequently picking...

"Wilson" - Rhys Whitley _ This seeker droid, codenamed Wilson for its red colored sensors' resemblance of a human face, is a .55cm spherical repulsor-lift binary assassin droid with antennae. An old beat up model with visible wear and tear, Wilson's regressing protocols have developed odd...

"Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody." "Then is it not more prudent to love the darkness? For all its faults are wise in their warnings." CZERKA - CONTRACTOR - HUMAN _ 22 _ 185CM _ LEAN BLACK-HAIR FAIR-SKIN BLUE-EYES ARISTOCRATIC-ACCENT TOMB-RAIDER _...

Rhys was doing quite well in continuing his cover as an everyday average citizen, not some Jedi dropout. Though she'd probably picked up on his aura, it was pointless. There were millions of people living in blissful ignorance of their affinity, most of whom couldn't possibly hope to attune...

"What? No. Don't be ridiculous. I love salad. I-" "Here's your ham sandwich and potata' salad, hun." The droid appeared out of nowhere and placed his greasy dish down across from Tamara's, rolling off just as quickly as she'd come. Rhys' lashes fluttered at Tamara for a moment, caught in a...

Rhys shook to her sudden pistol-pointer, her finger practically loaded with lethal ammunition, his neck stiffened with a wrenching iron-board whiplash. His face frozen, however, began to break at the first sign of her lacking vocabulary; his lips sucking into his mollusky mouth, holding back his...

Rhys cringed to her violent reaping of his jacket as if a root from suffocated soil and coddled his precious article in maternal embrace before realizing the change in his table buddy. And so he straightened up with a sly side-glance and baited the girl. "Yes I'd imagine so, what with your...

She corrected him. It wasn't her map. "Oh. Quite right. I guess I don't really need you then do I? Well that's not entirely true is it? I need you to fix his ship. Or rather. He needs you to fix his ship." Rhys giggled to himself, enjoying every bit of this. He'd never met such an honest thief...

Aghast and befuddled, his heart jumped from its front row seat into his bulging eyes to the girl's handiwork. The umpire to her tantrum, calling it a homer as she knocked it out of the park straight down center field; the chef's metal head the crunched bystander of a quick k/o. And Rhys couldn't...