The WTF of the week goes to...

Star Wars: Imperium has returned, better than before. A new storyline, new canon positions, revised systems and more to come. Old and new members alike, welcome to the new Imperium and enjoy your look around. And then forge your story on the side of the warring Republic or Empire, or create a tole of your own accord. The galaxy is yours.


Manaan is under attack. Kiukurilya of the Dark Council has launched a siege of the planet to enslave the Selkath and take the kolto for the Empire. The Republic has mobilized a defense…but will it be enough?

The fight unfolds.

The fate of the Selkath and their healing kolto lies in the balance.


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Location: Korriban
Born: 9 May 1986
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Alias: Karl
Age: 35
Occupation: Sith Marauder
Profile: 1480
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Joined: 6-September 17
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Last Seen: Sep 20 2017, 08:24 PM
Local Time: Sep 22 2017, 01:36 PM
18 posts (1.1 per day)
( 0.43% of total forum posts )
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Sep 13 2017, 11:56 PM

Darth Tchakova, Dark Councillor of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge, wanted to visit the Shadowlands of Kashyyyk and search for dark relics and objects of power. And Satira, lowly Marauder of the Sith Order, not to mention close acquaintance of the above-mentioned Dark Councillor, wound up coming along. Who else was there? Darth Eris, the Blademaster of the Academy on Korriban; some soldier from the Imperial army and a couple of his grunts, something Hux? And some kid Satira had been picking on for a few weeks, Joran or whatever. He still smelled like Jedi to her, and she wasn't sure why he was here. Had she brought him along?
It wasn't important. He wasn't important. None of them were important, all that mattered was the mission.
Satira had done some reading on the way over, about what to expect on Kashyyyk. Wookiees, an Imperial presence, Czerka sla- wait, slavers? Fuck, Satira didn't like slavers, best none of them mess with her... anyway, moving on. She'd impatiently looked ahead for information on the Shadowlands, and most of it had been "Don't go here if you value your life". Satira wondered if she didn't value her own life. That had been a stupid thought and she made it go away so she could keep studying.
About all she understood was the terentateks, the rest were vague pictures of ugly critters with names that made her feel like she was gargling and hawking up a loogie. Obviously that Wookiee language at work. The terentateks were more interesting... huge creatures of the Dark Side, which the Jedi deemed threatening enough to want to hunt down every century or so, highly resistant to the Force and drawn to those who used it. Like their little band. That kid Joran and Hux's men were sounding more like bait with every passing second.
Anyway, they landed eventually, and the Czerka representatives fell all over themselves trying to figure out what they wanted and why a high-ranking Sith had not called ahead. But the group would not be stopped, and they proceeded through the Czerka compound to the primitive elevators that would bring them down to the Shadowlands. The Wookiees standing guard were agitated, of course, and tried to stop them, but Satira had knocked one out and threatened the other with being thrown off the side, and then they could pass through.
After that it was a long, long ride down, with the light slowly growing ever dimmer. Satira passed the time by restlessly pacing back and forth, teasing Joran, and making bedroom eyes at anybody who made eye contact with her. Finally the elevator creaked to a stop, after what felt like multiple kilometers, and Satira was the first one off the platform.
"Looks like we're here," she announced, rolling her eyes at the obviousness. "So, um... where's the shit?" That was mostly directed at Tchakova, since she assumed everyone else knew as little as she did.


Sep 11 2017, 08:03 PM

THE PREMISE: To boldly go where no man has gone before down into the Shadowlands in search of treasure and ruins and shit.
WHAT WILL PROBABLY END UP HAPPENING: A fucking couple of Terentateks sneak up and mostly own us before we barely kill them. Maybe we find some sweet loot? idk
WHAT'S IN IT FOR ME? Well if you want a shot at fancy gear custom-made from some Terentatek corpses, or maybe some random-ass treasures or artifacts or whatever, or maybe just the experience of the journey, come on down! Who knows, we might even get to kill a Jedi Hermit or two.
WHO'S INVITED? Mostly Sith since it started with me brainstorming shit to do with Satira, but I guess any Independent-types could get sucked in too. Jedi or Republic types might want to try and stop us, but once the big nasties come out we'll all have to work together or die horribly. Just sayin'.
HOW DO I SIGN UP? Reply to this thread with the character you want and the reward(s) you expect to get at the end!

Sep 9 2017, 11:01 AM

The Drunk Side Cantina, Dreshdae Settlement...
Korriban might have been a dried-up hole in the galaxy, but it was still the closest thing to an actual home Satira had ever known. The facility didn't count, since for one thing she had never bothered learning what planet it was on. She hoped the planet had been glassed in the war, honestly, and that no one could ever repeat that horrible experiment. Not like it hadn't turned out alright for her, after a whole lot of pain and nonsense and bullshit of course.
In any event, she was back in town for a week or so after some more misadventures in the galaxy at large. And as usual, her stupid fucked-up body had her stuffing her face once again, and guzzling down Juma Juice like it was water. She had a whole table to herself off to one side, with plates stacked up everywhere and empty bottles too.
One of the waitresses nervously approached the ravenous Sith. "Um, Miss... Miss Satira?" the girl stammered, unsure how to address the salty woman before her. "Your, um, I mean, the...."
"Speak up, Tails, or get down here and lemme stuff my cock down your throat if you're gonna leave your mouth open that way," Satira grunted, not even looking up. She ate fast, but meticulously, as if someone long ago had gone to extreme lengths to beat table manners into her skull. "I'd even tip you extra if you could take it all."
The hapless Twi'lek was still new enough to be flustered by that kind of talk, and she laughed nervously. "Oh, um, y-you don't have a, um... penis, Miss Satira," she stammered. " you?"
"Keep talking about it, girly, I'll have to think you're interested in finding out," Satira replied, pausing to gulp down more liquor. She looked up, and threw a whiff of lusty pheromones at the girl's face. "I like that Miss Satira thing though, keep that up and I won't bitch you out to your boss for slacking off."
The waitress flushed again and squirmed, pressing her thighs together. "Please stop teasing me, Miss Satira," she whined. "Oh, wow, it's, is it getting hot in here...?"
Satira laughed and quit pushing the pheromones out. "Run along and get back to work, Tails, I'll wave you down if I need anything," she said dismissively, going back to her food; the waitress bowed and backed away, still unsure what had just happened and not at all sure she liked it.

Sep 9 2017, 10:00 AM
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combat capability!<hr>
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<b><font color="ffffff">FORCE RANK 3.</font></b>
<br><b><font color="ffffff">LIGHTSABER.</font></b> The first time Satira picked up a lightsaber, she almost cut her own foot off. That was the beginning and the end of her training with the iconic weapon of the Force user.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">MASTERED LIGHTSABER FORMS.</font></b> Although she does not wield a lightsaber, Satira has studied the forms and incorporated many of the principles and stances into her unarmed fighting. The first is Juyo, the Ferocity Form; a perfect expression for her rage and her lust for dominance over all. She revels in the feedback loops created when she fights this way, the fear and frustration of her enemies feeding into her own lust and fury until she becomes a seething whirlwind of fists and feet. It helps her lose control and exhaust her emotions, too, allowing her some relative peace afterwards.
Conversely, her secondary form is Shien, which she chose for its defensiveness and its ability to fend off multiple foes at once. And while Shien may have been classically devised to defend against blasters, Satira merely adapted its defensive postures for her own use. The anti-blaster focus came in handy too, of course. More importantly it is a form that demands focus and awareness, which is better suited for effectively applying Dun Moch as she can keep her wits about her while fighting.

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<b><font color="ffffff">MASTER AGILITY.</font></b> A lifetime of combat and endurance training have left Satira incredibly tough and fleet of foot. She can run circles around all but the quickest opponents, and do so for hours no less. She is also considerably stronger than her frame would suggest, and incredibly flexible as well, bordering on double-jointed.
<b><font color="ffffff">NOVICE PERCEPTION.</font></b> Satira's keener alertness is specific to social situations, in that she can easily read body language and knows what to look for when using her pheromones for manipulation, making it difficult to lie to her. Otherwise she is too self-centered to have any real awareness of her environment, so it wouldn't be hard for someone skilled in stealth to get the drop on her.
<b><font color="ffffff">AMATEUR MELEE EXPERTISE.</font></b> If she can't beat it into submission with her fists, or flay it to death with the Force, it's probably not worth her time.
<b><font color="ffffff">AMATEUR RANGED EXPERTISE.</font></b> What use is a blaster when one has the full fury of the Dark Side at one's command?
<b><font color="ffffff">ABSURD UNARMED EXPERTISE.</font></b> Satira is a martial artist without equal, a peerless raging inferno of ferocity and eroticism in unarmed combat. After all, she's spent her whole life learning to fight without weapons; she's so good she can even defend and counter against blasters and lightsabers with nothing but her battle gauntlets and the Force. Her particular specialty is grappling, precision crippling strikes and submission holds, useful for wearing her opponents down and taking them alive for some fun of an entirely different sort.
<b><font color="ffffff">NOVICE FORCE CONTROL.</font></b> Satira learned enough to bolster her physical prowess and to give voice to her rage, but little else. She has a long way to go in the mysteries of the Force, which she is keenly aware of.
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<br><b><font color="ffffff">SATIRA'S SITH ROBES.</font></b>
<br>Satira's usual outfit has seen a lot of wear. A red corset that barely holds her breasts in check, the tattered remnants of a black long coat, and tight black shorts that are specially designed to conceal her unusual genitalia. Cortosis-alloy greaves and pauldrons protect her legs, and she wears complex battle gauntlets on her forearms that are also covered in cortosis-alloy.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">TECHNO BATTLE GAUNTLETS.</font></b>
<br>Complex pieces of tech, and some of last favors Satira took from the facility that bred her. Hardened alloy plates that protect her fists and arms; the left gauntlet houses a mid-range communicator, and the right hides a grapnel booster, useful both for propelling herself to places beyond reach and for bringing her enemies into lightsaber range. Her hands and wrists are also protected, and thick, brutal studs cover her knuckles to give even more weight to every blow. For lethal attacks, each glove also has a retractable vibro-knife that can pierce all but the thickest armor, provided she can find the weak spots.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">ADVANCED MED PACS.</font></b>
<br>Several kolto injectors in a box, along with enough first aid and medical supplies to make field medicine a snap, enough for the treatment of moderate wounds; in the absence of reliable Force healing, Satira has had to make do with mundane solutions, and wouldn't you know it? Growing up in a science facility had its benefits after all. She tries to carry at least five such kits in the field at all times.
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<br><b><font color="ffffff">FREE FORCE TECHNIQUES.</font></b>
<br>Push/Pull, Telekinesis, Force Choke, Speed, Leap, Mind Tricks, Battle Precognition, Sense.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">ZELTRON HERITAGE.</font></b>
<br>Although she looks more or less human, Satira actually has a wealth of Zeltron abilities that she can use at will. Natural telepathy and emotional pressure are among them, useful for distracting or disarming her opponents; she can also unleash potent pheromones into the air as easily as exhaling, with which she can arouse, enrage, becalm, or stupefy those around her. The flipside is that she can read the emotions of others, and is instinctively drawn to creating positive feelings; strong negativity is repulsive to her, and she might even lash out if she is offended enough. Finally, she has a second liver and an exaggerated metabolism, allowing her to consume food and alcohol to excess with little to no ill effects.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">PAIN TOLERANCE.</font></b>
<br>Satira has known pain her whole life. It is a constant companion, from mere wounds and cuts to the hormonal imbalances caused by puberty for two genders in one body. She WELCOMES pain; it lets her know she's still alive. She can block out all but the most debilitating wounds and mental effects, and keep going until she drops dead or gets a chance to fix herself up. She can even draw on the Force to extend her endurance to inhuman levels, fighting on long past the point where others would have dropped dead of wounds or exhaustion.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">FORCE RAGE.</font></b>
<br>A natural byproduct of being an empath in a fearful, angry environment, Satira learned early on to channel the fear and fury into a potent expression of her connection to the Force; it enhances her strength and speed, at the cost of a small degree of life force and a severe loss of emotional control. At times this can be the only way she has of venting her feelings and clearing the negativity from her head, so she uses it quite often and is skilled at controlling the raging tides.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">FORCE SCREAM.</font></b>
<br>Another inevitable result of her environment, Satira can channel her frustration into debilitating shouts of pure raging Force. Those caught in its range are subject to disorienting shockwaves of sound and fury, and it would take a stern constitution indeed to recover quickly.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">DUN MOCH.</font></b>
<br>Considering her empathic, pheromonal and telepathic prowess, as well as her insatiable need to dominate and force submission in her opponents before killing or fucking them, it should come as no surprise to anyone that Satira can combine all these talents and drives into her own version of the esoteric Dun Moch fighting style, incorporating graphic sexual taunts and threats of rape into it as well. Really, seventy percent of the time fighting is just foreplay for her, and this is an extension of that.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">FORCE DEFLECTION.</font></b>
<br>Considering her single-minded focus on unarmed combat, it should come as no surprise that Satira chose to develop a means of defense against ranged weapons that doesn't rely on shields or a lightsaber.
<br><b><font color="ffffff">FORCE SHOCK.</font></b>
<br>She can't quite manage a full display of Force Lightning yet, but Satira can do this much. A sharp, painful jolt of electricity, only useful at close-range, it can stun and knock back anyone who gets too close. Fortunately for her, close-range is the only range worth fighting in.

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Sep 7 2017, 11:08 PM

Meet Satira

Who's this cocky bitch?

Satira, more or less, was a designer hermaphrodite; genes spliced from Human and Zeltron, purged of useless genetic code and manipulated for what should have been the perfect sex slave. Were it not for the Force manifesting in her, she might have been. Instead she went crazy, killed a lot of people and knocked up a lot more on the way to getting the attention of the Sith, and there you go.
I want her to like me, though?

That might be a cold and empty road, there. Satira has to be very careful of her emotions and attachments, lest her empathic abilities get the better of her. It's best to be cold and calm yourself if you want to deal with her on any kind of rational footing, and cold calmness is hard to find where she usually lurks. Alternately, catch her at the cafeteria, where she's probably too busy feeding her boosted metabolism to bother with the usual displays of lust and antagonism.
What a bitch! Fuck her and the speeder bike she rode in on!

First off, she might like that. Second off, get over yourself? She doesn't have time for enemies or grudges, or so she tells herself; in reality she tends to dwell on those who reacted badly to her, and her Zeltron heritage combined with the remnants of her childhood conditioning drive her to try and make things better. Which just turns into a feedback loop of negativity, as often as not, and before you know it, she's lost her mind and the Rage is upon her.
No really, fuck you Satira. Or fuck me, I don't care.

Satira absolutely doesn't give a shit who, what, where or when she gets her cock wet in; she'll fuck anything with a hole and a pulse, even if she has to fight for it first, and if it doesn't fit, well, she can make it fit, consequences be damned! On the other hand she's much pickier about who or what gets a poke at her feminine bits, as she seriously hasn't got the time to be carrying some random asshole's bastard around for months on end. She has no such consideration for her other partners, of course.
Whatever. Anything else?

Not really. She's here to fight and to fuck, in no particular order. And while she'd love to get drunk, she has a hard time of it since, once again thanks to being part-Zeltron, her body just processes alcohol like it's no big deal. Hence she wins a lot of drinking contests, and all the myriad prizes that come with them...

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