Illyria Sol Rhia
Padawan of Veiere Arenais
EDIT: I have been contacted by someone interested, but thank you for your consideration!
Name: Illyria Sol Rhia
Rank: Padawan
Force Alignment: Light
Seeking: Master
What I Want to Learn: Here comes the long part, so bear with me, but what I am looking for is the Master-Padawan dynamic. The mentor aspect to training. Which means I am essentially looking for a long-term writing partner who is interested in having a protege shadow them on their adventures and missions. I am also new to the site, so you will need to take a bit of initiative on the plot-making until I get a good head for the place, but don't worry I am happy to plot things out with you to the best of my ability. My character will be fully trained in the use of her powers and lightsaber forms, though I am still up for RPing a bit of that out, but the focus I am looking for is building that Master-Padawan dynamic (otherwise I'd have just started this character off as a 'Knight'
).So my character would ideally follow and aid your's on missions and meet any other characters alongside yours. Basically, I want to be the Kenobi to your Qui-Gon. The Anakin to your Kenobi. Just... without the death or darkside succumbing.
I don't have my character sheet up yet because I wanted to tailor certain parts of her profile to her Master (history, her 'specialization', etc.) but here is a little about her so you know what you're getting into: Illyria Sol Rhia is a seventeen year old Hapan, born in royalty, though distant enough she's unlikely to ever be the Queen Mother. Besides that she doesn't care much for her lofty background, and she has been a Jedi since childhood so it is hardly a factor into her personality. Rather, she is headstrong, determined to a point she ignores her limits which can land her in trouble, and her tone is often 'casual' even while in the presence of those high-ranking. However, Illyria really is trying to help the people of the galaxy as much as she can, so you don't have to worry [SIZE=11pt]– she's Jedi "4 lyfe". Due to a lack of experience (that's where you come in ) she can still be a bit naive about people and the galaxy. Because she is trying to prove herself she can still be a bit insecure when met with failure, at times even stubborn, though she is well aware of her Jedi teachings and tries to correct herself when she either notices she is straying or her Master reminds her. She is however a creative person and that becomes evident with her tendency to tinker with her lightsaber, and as of right now, is a bit of a "Jack of all trades" in that she excels in her studies of the Force and her martial prowess, but has yet to find her "specialization", making her at least momentarily a Sentinel. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Now I know it's hard to figure out if you want to be someone's writing partner without some sort of idea of how they roleplay. I typically do 400-600 words per post, minimum one post every other day (though generally one post per day, but school is starting up soon :s). Below is an example of how I roleplay, though it's Harry Potter. <.< As I said, bear with me.
[/SIZE]
In any case, if you read all that, thank you! Hopefully someone out there is looking to play out that Master-Padawan dynamic like I am, and If that's YOU then feel free to either reply to me here or message me on discord ("Meta" or "A Metagaming Pigeon#1337").
Rank: Padawan
Force Alignment: Light
Seeking: Master
What I Want to Learn: Here comes the long part, so bear with me, but what I am looking for is the Master-Padawan dynamic. The mentor aspect to training. Which means I am essentially looking for a long-term writing partner who is interested in having a protege shadow them on their adventures and missions. I am also new to the site, so you will need to take a bit of initiative on the plot-making until I get a good head for the place, but don't worry I am happy to plot things out with you to the best of my ability. My character will be fully trained in the use of her powers and lightsaber forms, though I am still up for RPing a bit of that out, but the focus I am looking for is building that Master-Padawan dynamic (otherwise I'd have just started this character off as a 'Knight'
).So my character would ideally follow and aid your's on missions and meet any other characters alongside yours. Basically, I want to be the Kenobi to your Qui-Gon. The Anakin to your Kenobi. Just... without the death or darkside succumbing. ) she can still be a bit naive about people and the galaxy. Because she is trying to prove herself she can still be a bit insecure when met with failure, at times even stubborn, though she is well aware of her Jedi teachings and tries to correct herself when she either notices she is straying or her Master reminds her. She is however a creative person and that becomes evident with her tendency to tinker with her lightsaber, and as of right now, is a bit of a "Jack of all trades" in that she excels in her studies of the Force and her martial prowess, but has yet to find her "specialization", making her at least momentarily a Sentinel. [/SIZE]“Leave it Kreacher,” he spat the words venomously and full of contempt, eyes sternly turned onto the house elf, who had briefly set foot into Regulus’ bedroom – former bedroom now. “He’s dead. Gone. The soft twit went and got himself killed for a madman’s cause. For kark’s sake, stop cleaning his room.” Kreacher’s gaze just as malicious as Sirius’ yet as if magically compelled retreated from the room as Sirius simultaneously turned back towards the entrance, hastily grabbing a jacket, and slamming the front door behind him.
Sirius however did not continue his march, instead finding himself contemplatively leaning against the entrance to 12 Grimmauld Place. He had yet to breach the boundary between the Fidelius Charm and the muggle world that would reveal him to the world, a heavy sigh escaping him in his momentary pause. Another night. Another goddamn night. Every passing hour allowed the void in his chest to strengthen, the smallest of actions an exercise of effort, life and death increasingly alike in his eyes. Sirius didn’t have a single person left, not James, not Lily, not their son – no one. He couldn’t recall the last time he had spoken with Remus. He didn’t even know where he was.
It was just Sirius now. And Kreacher. And Walburga’s screeching portrait. He had considered killing himself, ending it all so swiftly, yet that felt simply too easy. He was a prisoner atoning for sins he could never right. Pushing himself off the hidden door and down the slopes of the charmed residence he once more entered the world of muggles, hands tucked away in his jacket pockets as he finally acknowledged the time – he dared not face the sun while he was home and like a vampire he now preferred to stalk the night. Less people. No one to bother him.
Heavy strands of raven black hair grazing the tops of his shoulders as he rounded a corner somewhere within Islington, not really paying much heed to where he was going, knowing only what he desired to find. The strained glow of neon hurting his eyes as he looked up to a sign that contained the word ‘Pub’. It was good enough for him and like a moth to a flame he passed through the colourful lights and into the bar, stopping only briefly to locate the bartender, though he could not help but grimace at the presence of other patrons in the place. Nevertheless Sirius pressed on and sat atop an empty and lonely stool, where he faced the bartender and flagged him down. “Whiskey.”
“What kind?” the bartender paused whatever he was doing as he took in the sights of another grungy patron.
“Doesn’t matter, mate. Whatever’ll hurt.” With a nod the man turned away, grabbing a glass and pouring the noxious brown liquid atop an island of ice, serving it over to Sirius. Muttering a quick ‘thank you’ Sirius slumped forwards over the counter, hair falling forwards like a curtain. Yet he was barely able to get a drink before a woman fell into the stool beside him, a pained sigh escaping him at the interruption, yet she was not deterred. A pattern of platitudes and short answers escaped him before yet another woman took up a presence near him, a slight shake of his head lamenting his luck. He just wanted to be left alone and yet when it finally looked like some god had taken mercy on him, the girl he was barely paying attention to abruptly rushing away, Sirius knew he was cursed when the second woman then began speaking to him. “I didn’t thank you.” His response was curt, the pureblood hardly acknowledging her presence, having not even glanced her way as he took another swig from his drink.
Sirius however did not continue his march, instead finding himself contemplatively leaning against the entrance to 12 Grimmauld Place. He had yet to breach the boundary between the Fidelius Charm and the muggle world that would reveal him to the world, a heavy sigh escaping him in his momentary pause. Another night. Another goddamn night. Every passing hour allowed the void in his chest to strengthen, the smallest of actions an exercise of effort, life and death increasingly alike in his eyes. Sirius didn’t have a single person left, not James, not Lily, not their son – no one. He couldn’t recall the last time he had spoken with Remus. He didn’t even know where he was.
It was just Sirius now. And Kreacher. And Walburga’s screeching portrait. He had considered killing himself, ending it all so swiftly, yet that felt simply too easy. He was a prisoner atoning for sins he could never right. Pushing himself off the hidden door and down the slopes of the charmed residence he once more entered the world of muggles, hands tucked away in his jacket pockets as he finally acknowledged the time – he dared not face the sun while he was home and like a vampire he now preferred to stalk the night. Less people. No one to bother him.
Heavy strands of raven black hair grazing the tops of his shoulders as he rounded a corner somewhere within Islington, not really paying much heed to where he was going, knowing only what he desired to find. The strained glow of neon hurting his eyes as he looked up to a sign that contained the word ‘Pub’. It was good enough for him and like a moth to a flame he passed through the colourful lights and into the bar, stopping only briefly to locate the bartender, though he could not help but grimace at the presence of other patrons in the place. Nevertheless Sirius pressed on and sat atop an empty and lonely stool, where he faced the bartender and flagged him down. “Whiskey.”
“What kind?” the bartender paused whatever he was doing as he took in the sights of another grungy patron.
“Doesn’t matter, mate. Whatever’ll hurt.” With a nod the man turned away, grabbing a glass and pouring the noxious brown liquid atop an island of ice, serving it over to Sirius. Muttering a quick ‘thank you’ Sirius slumped forwards over the counter, hair falling forwards like a curtain. Yet he was barely able to get a drink before a woman fell into the stool beside him, a pained sigh escaping him at the interruption, yet she was not deterred. A pattern of platitudes and short answers escaped him before yet another woman took up a presence near him, a slight shake of his head lamenting his luck. He just wanted to be left alone and yet when it finally looked like some god had taken mercy on him, the girl he was barely paying attention to abruptly rushing away, Sirius knew he was cursed when the second woman then began speaking to him. “I didn’t thank you.” His response was curt, the pureblood hardly acknowledging her presence, having not even glanced her way as he took another swig from his drink.
