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Milo Corr

Milo Corr

Member Since 01 Aug 2018
Offline Last Active Apr 03 2019 04:44 PM

From The Ashes

11 October 2018 - 05:31 AM

Finding oneself on Yavin 4 was perhaps not an easy task. Long, by Milo's standards, had it been under the control of the Sith Empire. It was mere luck that he found himself upon the verdant green rock, slipping the last of his credits into the hands of a passing smuggler with a similar destination. Yet now he was next to abandoned on the planet, alone.


But the vagabond did not come to this world without a reason. A feeling guided him here, as it had in the past. Hours of scouring historical records, forgotten legends, and geographic maps had led him here. Without a credit to his name or a weapon on his body, he trekked into the wilderness searching for the presence which nagged at this thoughts.


Two days he had spent searching, surviving off of dubiously edible berries and fruits. Aimlessly walking as the transient did not carry a map with him, instead relying on his senses.


As night fell upon the moon, two stone pillars rose from the earth, just piercing the foliage. An aura, one Milo could not place, emanated from the masonry itself. Hewn rock, cobbled together in clean cut rhombuses formed what appeared to be a stone like rib cage, flush with the earth. Upon the ground rested what he assumed to be the entrance. A slab of rock covered in a cryptic and jagged language, unknown to the amateur explorer.


With the dwindling light so too dwindled his chances of examining the slab. With the light that remained he set about to the task of creating a fire, gathering fallen limb and dead logs to create an orange circle of sanctuary for the night. With a sigh of relief he rested upon his back, gazing upon the galaxy's stars in wonder, for they were far brighter here in the woods than on the streets of an ecumenopolis.


Mereel Vaun

Another Day, Another Treasure

09 October 2018 - 12:54 PM

Once again Milo would send out a dubious holonet add looking for any interested parties in hunting one mysterious relic or another. The galaxy is home to plenty.


I'm looking for a few folk to toss a thread up to go delving in ruins in search of a treasure which may or may not exist. If you're interested drop a post.

The Jewel of Moraband

15 August 2018 - 12:03 PM

There was indeed a high tower on the far side of the hanger just as dark and lifeless as the rest of the ship. "Pressurized or not, we need to get in. Once we get this ship's power turned on the emergency systems should lock down any stray openings and re-pressurize. I hope." Motioning to the tower he looked to Draven expectantly.


Lyell Pavish | Elise Ike | Draven Dursden

The Jewel of Moraband

05 August 2018 - 05:00 PM

In the gloaming sea a ship erupted from hyperspace. A large, imperious, dreadnought, staffed by some of the Empire's finest. The Ship's captain perched in the throne of his superior, he was feeling especially mutinous this cycle. "Stealth systems have been engaged, sir," his commlink chattered. "Our ambush is set, shall I inform Lord Vestigor?"
Sliding a black-leather glove over the stark alabaster desk, he grimaced. "Let him attend to his rituals. We shall not rely on his arcane arts, leave him be." The officer switched off his commlink, rotating the throne to observe the window, patiently waiting for their prey to arrive.
The ignition of a blade of light and agonizing pain broke his attention. Crimson light spilled from his rib cage, ending the life of this rebellious captain, echoed soon after by the screams of terrors of soldier and crew alike...
Late into the night the clicking and tapping of fingers upon an interface echoed through the librarie's archives. Silver light streamed around a lone figure, seated at a desk, scrolling through ages of documents. Flanking his sides were two other datapads which he flicked between, and a single book. In the darkness he searched tirelessly through public record and ancient documents. Naval manifests. Old Republic, Imperial, Independent, hundreds of years of information as to the comings and goings of ships.
Paying keen attention to the ships that never made it to port, which was a common affair in wartime. With a list of names he searched further into the fates of these ships that did not make it, striking them off an ever growing list. He was tenacious in his search, a certain niggling feeling wriggled in his thoughts.
For hours he toiled, without anything sustenance beyond the cold caf he arrived with. He seemed almost entranced, setting his mind fully to the task- Until he found it. The Jewel of Moraband, a sith vessel of ages long since gone by.
Like many ships it had left port, yet never arrived at its final destination. And like so many others its history beyond that point was lost. Yet this one pulled at the back of his mind, finding serenity in previous discomfort. There was something special about this ship, something he would seek to discover out of equal portions of curiosity and greed.
"SHIP AND MUSCLE REQUIRED FOR HISTORICAL EXPEDITION INTO THE DEPTHS OF THE GALAXY, PAYMENT TO BE RECEIVED AFTER JOB COMPLETION," the holonet ad read. It was vague, keeping any information about the specifics of the job a secret. Enclosed with it was a the hangar of a more seedy Corellian spaceport, where a sandy-haired vagabond waited patiently for a ship and a motley group of temporary employees.

Milo Corr

01 August 2018 - 04:30 AM

NAME: Milo Corr







AGE: 24


SEX: Male


HEIGHT: 5'10"


WEIGHT: 164 lbs.


EYES: Blue




SKIN: Fair









Optimistic: Nothing can dampen this man's spirit. He always flashes a grin and takes it as it comes.


Determined: If nothing else, he at least has the endless will and patience to pursue his dreams.




Fool Hardy: When his life, or his dreams, are on the line this man gets a bit reckless. He is impulsive and never thinks before acting.


Vice: Despite his goal to live life at the top, he cannot help but throw away his hard-earned credits on the simpler vices which hold him back. Booze, Caf, and the occasional stim ensure that he remains in his glory-seeking squalor.


Poor: He has a handful of credits to his name, and more than a few things to spend it on.



Rough, though not exactly rugged, Milo is rather average and unremarkable in the grand scheme of appearances. He is below average height, and possesses little muscle or fat. Long sandy hair hangs from the top of his head, blending with a darker and unkempt beard. A pair of gentle blue orbs dwell at the center of his face, divided by a rather plain nose. 


He is often seen wearing a thick, dingy, old coat muddled with both caf and dirt stains. Riddled with holes and frayed edges, repaired with poorly-matching, and lazily stitched, cloth strips. A firebird charm hung from his collar, the symbol of various republic and rebel factions throughout history.


Despite his somewhat poor clothing, he always seems to bear an optimistic smile.


Milo grew up on the various streets and level of Empress Teta taking in the art and architecture of the ecumenopolis. Even as a destitute kid, he could appreciate the work of artisans. Without guidance, or parents, he was offered more than a few odd jobs and informal work. As he grew in age, Milo hopped from occupation to occupation, picking up enough essential skills to browse the holonet and use it as a conduit for personal education.


The boy, now a man, always knew he would reach greater heights. But to escape the drudgery of the low-life one must take it into their own hands. He took his time, wasting more than a few years to garner himself enough credits to depart from Empress Teta and to the furthest point of the civilized Outer Rim he could find.


Both a seeker of riches and a partisan of both the arts and history, he struck out to find his fortune in the old ruins and forgotten battlefields which litter the galaxy. As grand a dream it may be, he is nothing more than a treasure seeking vagabond with enough creds to get him to the next system only a few parsecs away.