Figured I'd put myself on the map, i.e. the forums and say hello
For those who do know me, I've been with DAJ for a long time and most likely have seen me (when I've been active that is!) for those who don't know me, hello! I will look forward to have the opportunity to RP with you all
This is a short story into my character and hopefully give you some idea of my style of RP'ing.
Mortael – Character NovelSome people would say that this young man was nothing but a walking paradox- his past unknown, and his attitude beguiling. Youthful was another word to describe him, which suited his stature and age for his time; yet his wisdom and physical prowess were off the charts, even being considered unnatural. It was clear that he was no ordinary boy, but a man of great potential coveting the power of the force.
Although his true origins remain a mystery, it is safe to say that he was excavated at the age of 15. He was found, chained and presumably left to die in an underground cavern. Fortunately, a team of scientists arrived to perform a survey of the minerals, which just happened to be where he was 'buried'- perhaps it was the will of the force? The planet itself was a desolate, barren world- with little but ash and the thick clouds that surrounded it. The souring red sky, brutal with raging winds and storms, crashing against the surface of the blackest soil.
That was not the only thing that seemed to have plagued Mortael's mind, but when found, his body had been lacerated multiple times, his face bloodied and scarred over- you could see the terror from within his eyes and the mark of the Sith. As the scientists attempted to remove Mortael from the shackles, he went insane. His memories lost, his vision blurred. All he could remember was the pain and the torment that he had felt during his torture, and the pain that yet lingered presently. He murdered them. He murdered them all in a bloodied berserker’s rage, their screams echoed as they marked the return of Mortael- the surroundings being desecrated by the tearing of flesh. Yet something remained, the guilt and feeling that he had made the worst mistake of his life; that sense of foreboding that would soon arrive forthwith.
He commandeered the vessel and escaped the violent scenery, yet something felt very out of place for the young male, as if this was nothing out of the ordinary. Leaving the atmosphere settled him, but it was far from over; he began to question himself, his mind shattered and broken. He would gaze out of the window of the cockpit- the bright white lights foreshadowing him. He would place his palm against the window, giving out the faintest smile- a spark of memory would flash, yet dissipate in an instant. He would cover his forehead, attempting to contemplate what had just happened and the rushed series of events which had just occurred. Whilst certain things remained like a wave of anxiety, he knew that all he could do was wander and explore the vast emptiness of space- and then, something happened...
Home 
well late relative to the date the post wasp osted and not relative to me joining.