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jedimaster69
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Nov 17 2014, 06:14 AM
Post #1
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- Posts:
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Galactic Database – Hex Nylon Junker

- Galactic Register
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Personal Information
| Name: Hex Nylon | Gender: Female
| | Age: 32 | Species: Human
| | Homeworld: Coruscant | Alias: Amanda "Mandy" Mayhem
| | Weight: 163lbs | Height: 5'6"
| | Primary Form: N/A | Sexuality: Hetero (rumoured)
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Appearance
| Skin Tone: Tanned Caucasian | Eye Colour: Dark Blue
| | Hair Style: Dreadhawk | Hair Colour: Purple (faded)
| | Handed: Ambidextrous | Distinguishing Features: Hell Ravens neck tattoo
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Additional Information
| Intelligence | ■■■■■■■■■■
| | Endurance | ■■■■■■■■■■
| | Strength | ■■■■■■■■■■
| | Agility | ■■■■■■■■■■
| | Force Mastery | ■■■■■■■■■■
| | Lightsaber Combat | ■■■■■■■■■■
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Equipment
Thighstrap Holster - Information Downloaded
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| Owner: Hex N. Weapon: Xorbo F-9 "Fragmaster" Custom Shotgun
Description: The "Fragmaster" custom-built compact shotgun leads a charmed life strapped to the leg of spacer Hex Nylon, jamming rarely despite consistent neglect and constant overuse. The weapon produces a fractal of laser beams that explode outwards from her scuffed muzzle, not dissimilar to heavy blaster bolts.
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- Faction Information
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Hell Ravens
| Faction: Hell Ravens | Rank: Raven
| | Skillpath: Freelancer | Loyalty: N/A
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Basic Information - Information Downloaded
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Accessing Information... Decrypting Security Protocols... Information now available.
"A spacer needs nothin' but a ship under her feet and fuel in her engines. Racer thrusters catapultin' you across the shoulder of Demophon, inertial dampeners holdin' you through the gravity wells of Scipio - ain't that the dream?" —Hex Nylon to the crew of the Free Radical, 1420 BBY Subject: Hex Nylon, Amanda "Mandy" Mayhem, Mad Mandy, etc. Dossier:
For the complete history of the ex-crime boss, junker, spacer, freelancer, smuggler and mercenary Hex Nylon and the charges levied against said individual, please consult the declassified "Republic DSM Ex-Convicts" file, volume 591. For the purposes of this archival record we will here reproduce the account given by a former shipmate of the hitherto accused - Jax "Xeno" Cutter, bridge tech and electronics junkie aboard Mayhem's last known vessel the Louis George.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------ARCHIVE I: JAX "XENO" CUTTER---------------------------------------------------------------------
The galvanized iron loading deck groaned as if a titanic weight were shifted from it as the freighter’s inertial dampeners fired. The 6,502 ton trawler lurched, primary thrusters activating, and with a gargantuan effort the shimmering mass of solar panels and perishable goods was underway, passing through the cramped hangar doors of the station bay into the limitless void. Her cargo: two-hundred tons of cereals, fish and other staple foods. Her destination: 23041 Hunt, a research base inside an asteroid somewhere in the Kagoshima system. Her mission: avoid destruction through human error on the part of a crew of seven nameless flunkies hailing from some misbegotten corner of deep space.
Hex Nylon fingered the console display in front of her, the chair on which she sat dialling back on command. The captain of the Louis George looked just as recycled as the space hulk she was flying, a faded shoulder tattoo and the remnants of a purplish dreadhawk the last relics of her junker past. A surly scowl seemed to occupy her face permanently, Cutter’s antics on the sun deck the only thing to break through the clouds of Nylon’s visage in seven months. Hex longed for the space lanes, the great expanse, the exhilaration of her racer’s thrusters catapulting them across the shoulder of Orion. The roof-suspended chair’s swivel mechanism turned her around to face the centre of the bridge. It was a claustrophobic habitat, all mechanical wiring and ever-whirring technical displays. Everything was mantled with the same dull, metallic pallor. All function and no form – it was obscene to her, like the art of a schizophrenic.
“Captain?”
Nylon was wrenched back to ugly reality. It left a bitter taste in her mouth.
“What is it, Screw?”
“Somethin’ on the deep space scanner, captain,” replied Screw. The stocky, mousy girl had a dull voice that smelled of smoke.
“Let’s see it.”
The mainframe display detached from a panel in the roof, sidling down into view. After a few seconds it burst into life, illuminating the bridge with a sickly green glow. It was a wireframe view of what appeared at a glance to be a massive human construction, gargantuan in diameter – so huge as to block the light of a nearby sun some 20,000,000 parsecs away. It loomed on the horizon and only seemed to grow larger with every passing moment. Nylon, looking past the display terminal and into the void which housed the strange behemoth, felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise sharply.
“What we looking at, Cutter?”
The bridge tech looked up, startled. His gaunt face and bloodshot eyes made his features cadaverous. Hex grimaced.
“Dunno, cap’n. Sensors ain’t pickin’ up internal readings on the thing. All I know is it’s dead metal.”
Nylon looked to the terminal in front of her, toned leg muscles bunching up in concentration. She hunched over the display. The seemingly inert black enigma gnawed at her, made her feel uneasy. Her trademark scowl deepened to a glower. Opposite her, Cutter’s spidery fingers worked feverishly at his terminal, the heads up display frantically skipping over itself like the flows over the falls. Each wireframe section ballooned up in front of him, the internals of each part of the queer entity laid out in excruciating detail. Nylon retreated into her thoughts, the quiet tap-tap tapping of Cutter’s tactile keypad barely registering.
A gentle hum accompanied by a draft of cool air woke the captain from her dark dreams. She looked toward the awning. A sheepish girl of barely twenty quietly crept out of the corridor. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her jumpsuit stained by years of oil and metallic powder spillings. Hex caught her questioning glance and, after a measuring stare, swallowed. The captain’s chair swivelled.
“C’mon, Cutter, get me the deep scans on central.”
A three-dimensional hologram of the strange construction spawned into existence before them. Hex glanced briefly at the girl. She waited. Cutter tapped. Minutes of muted inertia dragged by.
“It’s a gateway, Captain,” the girl blurted out.
Hex raised an eyebrow. Screw stilled the wrench she had around a ventilation shaft bolt.
“A gateway?”
“Or something close," the girl murmured, working her way through an electronic jungle of cables and computer banks to stand next to Hex. Her eyes roved across the wireframe surface of the strange machine incessantly. The starlit mandala played across the faces of the two women, Rigel’s sun casting deep shadows across the freighter bridge.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------ARCHIVE END-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Exiting browser... Terminal shutting down.
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CormsCot
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Nov 20 2014, 07:14 PM
Post #2
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