Mors Soverin: Character Workshop (Feedback always welcome!)

[Soverin]

Spoiler

 

[Soverin]

​

The stars were with him that night, soaring past him outside his bedchamber’s window in bright blurred streaks. He kept his eyes open as long as he could to witness them, for in space they were truly his only company. The small ship’s autopilot took it steadily along the Listehol Run, but he decided to choose his bearings in the morning when he awoke.
The stars had a way of lulling him to sleep. As they danced through the empty blackness outside his window, it wasn’t long before his eyes drifted shut and sent him to sleep.

There was a forest, then... and a woman. The space between he and the woman was lush with vegetation. They stood in a large clearing that was surrounded on all sides by dense forest. A rushing waterfall poured over one of the clearing’s walls and trickled through the intricate cracks of the circular area’s structure to pool in it’s center. The water never seemed to empty or move besides that… It just gathered and calmed where the woman sat.
Twi’lek, he could tell by the long lekku which hung down her back, a feature he noticed upon his first couple of steps to close the distance between them. Her skin was a ruddy beige, warm and human, but bore colourful markings all along the fleshy tendrils at the back of her skull. Bright blues and greens and oranges that all flowed in such natural grace they appeared like birthmarks that’d developed of their own.

Step after silent step was taken in her direction, the metallic plating of his boots colliding with the rough stone under his feet, but no sound was produced. The Anzat would not be deprived of their natural stealth by the weight of their boots or the texture under the steps. He was as silent against stone as he was grass. Predatory in his gait, he made a painfully slow stride towards her until her head finally canted just slightly to one side to give him a sidelong glare, and he was struck.

The quick snap of splitting sinew and sundered armour was all that could have alerted him to what had happened. His mouth went ajar and he stumbled, looking down at his chest to find a long and sharp spear had been put clean through his rib cage. It’s blade extended out in the direction of the Twi’lek woman who had turned her gaze back on the water a second later. Twitching fingers wrapped around the spear’s head, and the sound of destruction enveloped the tranquil clearing. The tall trees outside the chamber could be heard splintering and breaking, the cries of alien fauna roared throughout the atmosphere and the violent stampeding approach of something outside the walls made him shiver.
All at once, great waves of magma clashed against the stone walls that protected the clearing, and before they could subside and crackle against the outter perimeter of the sanctuary they were reinforced by another wave, so much more massive then the last that he knew it would bring his demise. The waves swallowed the walls and he released one last painful bellow as he and the Twi’lek woman were engulfed.

Screaming, he awoke in his bedchambers, chest heaving in and out as it took in the ship’s oxygen supply. His fingers smoothed over the area he’d been impaled to find perfectly healthy skin.

“A dream…” He told himself aloud, further reassuring his body that he was safe.

His eyes darted across the room before he collapsed back against his bed, staring up at the darkness around him. The room was entirely empty, bathed in pitch black that not even his eyes could pierce… Cautiously he propped himself up onto his elbows to peer out the same window he did each night, and the stars had left him. All that lay outside his window was black. A sleek sheet of black that was uncharacteristic of space’s dazzling display. His chest took in a heavy breath, and then another, obstructing the normal pattern he’d been working on as his eyes slowly turned on the door to his bedchambers.

A quick flick of his eyes was given to his vibroblade across the room, propped against a workdesk, and then back on the door. The light seeping through a small slit on the compression door flittered to darkness for a moment before returning to normal, and he once again gave a glance to his vibroblade.
Before he could make a single movement to scramble over to the blade the door slid open and shadowed silhouettes stepped in. A sift of air shot through the chaos of the quick exchange and he halted. A dart in his arm was all his eyes could catch sight of before they flittered shut and he fell to the floor like stone.

“Move!” One of his captors boomed as he was pushed down the docking ramp of his ship. He was still far too intoxicated by the tranquilizing dart to perform any solid locomotion, and he was being kept up by the strong grasp of the man at his right. He looked all around at the blurred colours of mudmetal and silver, noting that he was in the docking bay of some much larger vessel than his own. A glance was cast over his shoulder as he was dragged from the ship he’d been in before he was shoved to the ground, standing in a line of many other ragged men and women. From his kneel, he lurched forward to stare down the line… One-hundred… One-hundred and twenty or so lined like bantha for trade.

“You’d better stand.” The man next to him in line spoke as his alien captors went about fixing the other numerous lines of men and women. “They’ll beat you if you don’t stand.”

Taking in the new face’s words, he quickly did so, rising to his feet without assistance. He was a Neimoidian, dressed in long robes and clapped in durasteel restraints.

“Whats your name?” The kindred Neimoidian spoke.

“Phano.” He replied quickly.

“Your real name,” was all he offered in response.

“Drask.” He spoke again, this time with much more sympathy and consideration.

The Neimoidian simply turned his head forward silently.

“Noone.” The man offered again, mimicking the Neimoidian’s action by staring forward at the loud happenings within the slaver’s bay. “My name is Noone.”

The Neimoidian turned his gaze up to look down on Noone and inspected over his features. His bright red eyes scanned over his rather impressive armour, something of Mandalorian make. Though he was impressed, the Neimoidian’s expression quickly turned to sympathy, nodding his head low as looked to the floor.

“Your attire is unfortunate. They will declare you a warrior and send you to their fighting pits.” The Neimodian spoke softly, low enough so their captors wouldn’t hear.

“I told you my name.” Noone cut into the alien’s words, turning his head to give him a sharp glance.

The Neimoidian caught his gaze and nodded in turn. “Garr.” He placed a hand on his chest, giving him something of a haphazard but gracious bow.

Noone let his expressionless eyes linger on Garr for a few long moments before they shifted in the slightest to get a better view of his robes. They were fine, fine enough that he might peg him a politician or fortunate business man. The Neimoidians were known for their higher trade standing, so he’d not rule it out. If anything he was a good ally to have for an escape plan. Luck once again played in his favour.

“Where will you go.” Noone spoke, letting his gaze align forward once more.

“The spice mine… Perhaps a palace. Don’t worry about me… You must be strong, young one. The road ahead for you will be much more perilous than mine.” Garr was genuine in his words, taking the moment to peer down the row at the others.

Noone didn’t waste time looking at the other slaves. Cautiously, he looked directly at the faces of his captors, rushing about around him… “Zygerrians.”

“Mn.” Garr grumbled. “Scum. They forge their economy with the lives of others. Slavers.” Garr cursed the word with his inflection, practically spatting his words to the floor of the bay.

Noone was lost in his mind, eyes curiously dragging themselves from one point of interest to the next. Their captors were Zygerrians, ruthless slavers, he could tell a deal for his freedom wouldn’t be in the near future. The fighting pits… He wouldn’t be without sustenance… But how long would he survive? It would take at least a century to outlive the Zygerrians and gain his freedom. He didn’t have that kind of time. The guards used lightwhips, his blade would stand up to the energy of them if he --- if he even had it.

“My ship.” Noone said, giving a glance to his starship, one of many within the bay.

“Their tractor rays are flawless.” Garr chimed in, giving a look to Noone’s vessel as well. “They probably drew you in and you didn’t even know.”

“I was going along the Listehol Run, I was at lightspeed.” Noone spoke with more emotion this time: confusion.

“They may have intersected you.” Garr gave a moment to think on his words, but he was sound in his response. “The Listehol Route takes you right past the Chorlian sector. Right past --- “

“Zygerria.” Noone hissed, cursing himself for his mistake.

“Zygerria.” Garr reinforced his words, once again giving a solemn nod of his head.

Noone looked around the bay for answers, the first pieces of the puzzle that would assist his escape. For a moment he thought, and then cast his gaze down the line. “We outnumber them.”

“We do not have weapons.” Garr lifted his restrained hands. “We are peasants and traders, some of these men and women have been aboard this ship for days without proper food or care. They are weak.”

Noone stared past Garr as he spoke, eyes centered on two hooded figures that stared ahead like statues. Their robes were not that of the common men, and certainly stood out among the tattered greys and clothes of the other slaves. “Who are they?” Noone upnodded down the row at the two before the butt end of one of the slaver’s pikes drove into the back of his knee, forcing him to a kneel.

“Shutup, both of you! Or I’ll cut your tongues from your throats.” The Zygerrian barked, dragging the blade of his pike across the ground. He posted up beside Noone for only a moment, then lugged himself away to inspect more slaves.

Garr was quick to assist him up, but Noone refused, waving off his help. He balled a fist and pressed it against the floor to assist his rise. A stray glance caught sight of one of the hooded figures looking his way… A strange mysticism about them. Noone sharpened his gaze at the two and rose back to file.

“We’ll make port on Zygerria soon.” Garr rubbed his hands together, sighing. “Where ever you will go, young one, I pray you find solace there.”

Noone was quiet then. There was planning to be done.

​

“Look human, look in awe upon most promising Zygerria.” One of the slavers spoke in a gasp, eyes locked on the grand palace in the distance. The docking yard was as vast as a city, with roaming plains and lakes that met an invisible edge of existence. The massive plateau for which the province was built upon was only one of many that littered the planet’s surface. With his grip tight on Noone’s arm, one of the larger slavers dragged him down the ramp to stand aside so the other slaves could be led down.

“You!” Another slaver roared out over the fearful whimpering and echoing commands of slavers herding their property. One stubby finger jabbed out to point at the two hooded slaves from the cargo bay. “You two there, over here!”

Without another word a few other slavers pushed into the crowd to force the hooded figures over next to Noone. A quick chill crawled up him that forced him to stiffen. The two figures, however, were perfectly calm and aligned. They stood in place next to him wordlessly and kept their eyes forward. It was strange that the guards allowed them to keep their faces hidden. He remembered back to the cargo bay and the strange nature of them, how the slavers barely paid attention to them… Its like they weren’t truly there until they needed to be.

“These ones to the fighting pits.” One of the hooded slaves spoke, a girl’s voice… Soft but firm like a calm wind. “That ship there.” Her head adjusted only slightly to catch a sidelong glance at the ship in question.

Noone’s brows furrowed as he listened to her. “What?”

“Those slavers.” Her hood tipped forward in a nod toward two slavers having an inaudible discussion a few groups away. “You’re being taken to fight as a gladiator. I thought you should kn --- “

“You can hear them?” Noone cut her off.

The girl gave pause and aligned her gaze forward once again, much like the other slave to her right had been throughout their conversation.

Before he could inquire more they were shepherded off in a line with a few more slaves. Leading the line ahead were much bigger and nastier captured aliens from all corners of the galaxy. The Zygerrians lead them in a straight march up into another ship’s hull, where they were separated. Noone kept a close eye on the hooded slaves even though they were taken much further into the loading bay. His captors lined him up on his knees near five other male slaves. He wanted desperately to stay near the hooded slaves… But the urge to have his vibroblade at his side felt more dire. He cast a look down at the empty scabbard inlayed into his leg armour and made the decision with an instinctual nod.
Slowly his head rose to eventually sink his gaze deep into the eyes of the slave corralled in front of him. A Whiphid with thick musculature, he was certain to go to the pit. The hulking ape-like creature returned a powerful stare, like all things around them ceased to exist during their exchange. Eventually the Whiphid was completely still, trapped deep in Noone’s hypnosis.

“Get up and kill the man next to you.” The Anzat took deep breaths to sustain the effect, and spoke clearly and carefully.

Without pause, the Whiphid pounced on the smaller Rodian to his left. The Rodian tried his hardest to escape the mauling but in a flash all hell had broken loose. A few of the larger aliens answered the call of uprising and attacked the Zygerrians and each other, giving Noone a window of opportunity to escape into the ensuing riot.
He was thrown off slightly as the ship suddenly lifted from the ground. The cargo bay’s door began to fold shut a moment after the fighting had erupted, unforeseen by the Zygerrian shipping handlers. Eager to get out of sight, Noone crawled into a hatchway in the bay and entered the hall below. The halls below the bay were relatively empty, probably due to the booming sound of activity above. Every wallsign was written in Zygerrian, with tool tips that displayed galactic basic just below it. The armory wasn’t too far from his location, and then the cockpit could easily be accessed by a maintenance shaft.

Blind luck, he thought. He had to be quick to the armory, eventually the riots in the bay would be contained and they’d be searching for those who took advantage of the situation. Eventually he came upon what he was looking for, a large blast-hatch with the most warning marks. To his surprise, the armory’s door lit up with a hum and split open to allow him in. Their ship was a good make, surely there would have been some electronic security? But then was not the time for thinking, he still had another trip to make.
There was one case in the armory that was unlocked and open on the floor. Inside were multiple weapons in a neat rack. Though he was quick to snatch up his blade and place it in its sheathe, something forced him to double take. There were two empty blade slots just a few under where his was. Noone’s gaze dragged from the weapon case to the blast door as he stood. With his weapon drawn he proceeded out into the ships halls again and turned to find the maintenance hatch that would take him to the cockpit. He slid his fingers along the wall and found the indent to pull out the hatch’s handle, then crawled into the tight entryway. The space made him feel claustrophobic as he crawled along on his elbows. The dark black pipes and walls glowed with copper light and gave the tunnel the illusion of being endless. Eventually, however, he did find the opposite hatch. As he slowly pushed it open to reduce the noise of his approach, another sound was already flooding the halls. Slow and strong footsteps, the footsteps of a fool, came towards him just down the intersecting access way. Noone quickly flipped himself out of the maintenance tunnel and onto the floor, silently stepping toward the approaching noise. When it was just around the corner from him, he flourished his blade and stepped in front of the source of the noise…

​

When he raised his blade up it was met with a hiss that momentarily paralyzed him with fear. A pillar of humming yellow energy rose up as well to meet his blade’s edge. There was a rule in Anzati culture, and it was never to cross swords with a jedi. Noone took a step back and composed himself. He was confident in his ability, and didn’t doubt at all he might stand up to the jedi, but it was a dangerous thing.

“Go back.” Noone warned, taking his blade in both hands.

“I have a lightsaber.” The jedi spoke, voice trying not to tremble.

“Its not enough.” He knew fear. He could taste it. It would give him an edge if they did have to battle.

“Enough threats.” A voice spoke from over Mors shoulder. With another terrifying hiss a blade of energy hovered near the Anzat's throat. The sudden burst of sound at his ear forced his eyes shut. “We are commandeering this ship.” The jedi announced. He couldn’t see her face, but he knew the voice. It was the girl from earlier.

“You can’t take over the ship, I’m taking over the ship.” Mors kept his ground, mentally cursing himself for forgetting there were two of them. He was still caught off guard by the other jedi’s lightsaber.

“This is not your affair, wait here and we will handle this.” The jedi instructed calmly.

“Wait.” Noone lowered his blade to his side and straightened his posture. The action caused the jedi to adjust a bit in anticipation. “Alright, I’ll support you.” He finally turned then to see her, covered in the dark corridor’s shadows. She was illuminated with a splash of bright blue light from her blade. A Twi’lek, with strong and decisive features. It was an easy face to remember… It was familiar.

The Twi’lek looked to the other jedi for consideration and gave Noone a stern look. “At our side.” She spoke, dismissing her saber. The other jedi did as well, giving Noone a nod as he passed. The jedi made their way for the cockpit and Noone followed suit. The blast door was easily opened by the male jedi’s powers, something far beyond Noone’s comprehension.
A group of proud and noble looking Zygerrians stood in the bridge alongside their guards and pilots. One of the matron Zygerrians approached the three intruders and gave a gesture of warning.

“What is this?” The sharp Zygerrian woman spoke.

“Lady Kutia Djamana you are conducting illegal trade without moral restraint. In one moment on Zygerria I have witnessed the unjust deaths and mistreatment of several of your slaves and as the eldest member of the jedi order present I judge you and sentence you to die.” The Twi’lek jedi activated her saber just after her words, holding it close against her with both hands. The other jedi was quick to do the same, holding his blade back and out.

“Kill them!” The matron screamed for the guards, who readied their weapons and lashed out.

The jedi charged against the guard’s futile assault, cleaving them to smoldering pieces with their lightsabers. Noone was useless in the fight, he would only add to the futility of the situation. Sparks of yellow and blue jumped through the air as all on the bridge were cut down by the jedi’s skill. Only those who dropped their weapons and backed away were spared from their wrath. It was only in that moment that he truly understood what the stories were about. Those things he said about the knights with the swords made of stars. The true force that the jedi were made sense to him, he could see it.
When battle had subsided, only the matron stood without surrendering. With her head tipped high she stood against the jedi’s intimidation.

“Andara… We should wait for master --- “ The jedi with the yellow saber spoke low.

It was futile. In a flash, the Twi’lek jedi cut the matron deep, scarring her chest with smoldered red flesh. Her lifeless body fell to the floor smoking, and the jedi dismissed their sabers. It was done.

“You’re going to steal the ship?” Noone called out in question.

The Twi’lek, Andara, brushed her nose with her thumb and snorted as she took count of the dead. “This ship is being used for illegal purposes. We’re liberating it for better use.”

“There are other guards.” He interjected, shaking his head no. “They’ll come to find us if we realign the ship’s path.” He followed the Twi’lek, who was headed for the course map.

“We will negotiate with them. If they refuse, they’ll meet the same fate as the others.” The jedi reasoned.

“The other slaves will come for you. I came for the command bridge, you did, so will they. You’re two jedi, not an army.” Noone forced her attention. “This ship has two escape pods.” He moved to access the course map to display the range the escape pods could be dispatched to. “Where we’re located we can make it to Apatros. Mining planet.” He was already accessing the ship’s directions page before she could answer.

“Apatros?” She repeated, giving him a scrutinizing stare.

“Yes, Apatros.” Noone replied, eyeing the map to the escape pods.

“Why Apatros?” Andara reissued her question with much more cautious.

“We can make it there with the escape pod’s fuel store.” There was a certain depth to her suspicion that chilled him again. He didn’t understand it.

Andara only gave a distant nod as she stared into him. Her deep concern faded after a few seconds when the other jedi approached, placing his saber onto it’s ring.

“If that’s what we’re doing, Andara. We should go.” He warned, giving another eye to Noone.

The Twi’lek jedi heeded her partner’s words and beckoned them, starting out of the room and down the hall.

 

[Tsunami]

Damn that's a badass profile.

 

[Vepos Surge]

I applaud your profile sir, no way I could put something in as neat of a format as this and the character seems interesting.

 

[Soverin]

I applaud your profile sir, no way I could put something in as neat of a format as this and the character seems interesting.

*pig-bro fistpound*

*breaks own fist*

 

[Brandon Rhea]

This is awesome.

 

[Tsunami]

Love it!

 

[Soverin]

| Concept Phase 1 |
The first few sketches I did for Mors. Around this time I think I was still playing around with whether he'd
be a jedi knight or a Sith, so I stressed ambiguity in his armour.

| Concept Phase 2 |
Getting Sithier. I played around with the idea of Mors sporting the typical imperial uniform, to give him
some differentiation from the traditional robed Sith. Also played around more with his Mask, changed the
design to give it some more feature and shape. Also the first time I got to playing around with his probuscises.

| Concept Phase 3 |
Started playing with the idea of armouring Mors more. Gave him some heavier gear and an overall new
image. Removed the smooth and sleek mask concept I'd been playing with for some kind of... prismic
almost sharper crystal design. I wanted to keep the faceless appearance of the mask but also cut it up
a bit so it matched his new intricate looking armor. Also the first time I played around with the Tyrant MK.II
armour design, which I'll probably pump out a few more sketches of later.

 

[K-97]

Wow; this all looks amazing. Seriously this is such a well designed character. Two points:

1. Since this new timeline is following Star Wars Canon (and not Star Wars Legends), Darth Malgus doesn't exist so you can't mention him in your armour's description. Perhaps you could change it so it's a more vague reference (e.g. inspired by the armours of past sith warriors)
2. I would keep this admin post in mind; the approval of new technology (such as your armour) is going to be far more stringent than it was before so you may end up having to change the armour once the timeline actually starts.

 

[Soverin]

Wow; this all looks amazing. Seriously this is such a well designed character. Two points:

1. Since this new timeline is following Star Wars Canon (and not Star Wars Legends), Darth Malgus doesn't exist so you can't mention him in your armour's description. Perhaps you could change it so it's a more vague reference (e.g. inspired by the armours of past sith warriors)
2. I would keep this admin post in mind; the approval of new technology (such as your armour) is going to be far more stringent than it was before so you may end up having to change the armour once the timeline actually starts.

Thanks for the heads up! I actually totally forgot the Old Republic games weren't canon. Useful bit of info, ha.

 

[Darles Chickens]

This still looks dope.