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🦋 OOC Information
Name: Corie.Contact: dyads @ plurk
Age: Older than 21
Other Characters: Fizzarolli | Helluva Boss
Invitation: already in game~
Permissions: boop
🦋 IC Information
Character Name: Cal KestisAge: 17
Canon: Star Wars: Jedi Fallen Order
Canon Point: End of the game, after destroying the Holocron
Character History: I'm trash... just not approved trash.
Canon Abilities: Cal is a Jedi and can use the Force. This includes summary techniques such as telekinesis, summoning and moving objects with his hand, increased acrobatics and agility - jumping higher and running faster and farther. He can also use it to sway weaker minds.
Unlike most Jedi Cal has one ability that is considered rare called psychometry. He is able to read emotions or memories off of objects or people. He doesn't have the most control over it, however - particularly strong memories can render him immobile or trapped within them and in pain.
Inventory: Scrapper kit and uniform + Poncho, comm-link, a small repair kit and handful of scrap metals, one double bladed orange lightsaber which is capable of splitting in half to create TWO saber hilts. And the most important part - a small BD-1 explorer droid which is usually never far from Cal's person!
🦋 Personality
Option 2: You may instead choose words from the following list to expand upon as your personality section. Elaborate on what this word means to your character, specifically their thoughts about it. For Canon Characters, you can choose five words. For Original Characters, you will need to choose seven words. Keep the word count to 100-300 per choice.
- Dead - Dead is complicated for Cal. Dead is most of his friends that he grew up with at the Jedi temple, the clones that he once called brothers in a war and fought alongside with. His Master is dead, a death that he held himself responsible for most of his life, since he crashed on Bracca after the Clones attacked and turned on them. His old life, the life that he was supposed to have is dead and no matter how hard he tries to restore the Jedi Order, he can never have it back. And even if they do restore the Order, as he's been trying to do with Cere, it won't undo the death and destruction that the Empire has wrought. So Cal has to keep living and surviving, for those that are gone. For the Clones. For Tapal and Prauf, for himself.
- Friendly - Friendly is not something most people are, not on Bracca anyways. He's used to things being cold and wet, of people only looking out for themselves, of not being able to trust them because they'd sell out anyone for anything and him being in hiding and needing to keep his identity hidden he doesn't inherently trust friendly - not at first, anyways. Because it doesn't matter how friendly someone is, once they find out what he is, he expects them to turn on him. Prauf is the exception to that, he was friendly to Cal - he took him under his wing and helped him out and when he saves the alien from death he helps Cal remain hidden and try to distract the second sister so Cal can escape.
- Fall - Falling happens. A lot. Cal jumps from great heights and distances as he travels, as he explores long since forgotten ruins and crumbling structures. He's not afraid of much, not of heights, nor falling. Master Tapal taught him that if he falls he needs to get back up again and try again. A fall is where his life changed once again after his years of hiding, when he saved his best friend from falling to his death by falling into the Maw - a creature that lives on the surface of Bracca and eats metal. He used the force to save him. And then he nearly fell himself after being thrown from a train that had been blown up but was saved by two total strangers. He's not afraid of falling, of heights. Falling has another meaning, though. He sees a mirror of himself in a vision, one where he has fallen to the dark side and become an inquisitor himself. He will not let himself fall, not like that.
- Child - Was what Cal was when his entire world changed. He never got to be a child in the traditional sense of the word as he was brought to be a Padawan much younger than most due to his abilities, but he doesn't really mourn not growing up normally. He was a child when he became Master Tapal's Padawn, he was a child when Order 66 happened at only 12 years old but on Bracca, there are no children. Only workers. He had to grow up in order to survive as a place as unforgiving and cold as Bracca was, there was no slowing down or stopping because he was the youngest worker on his crew. He had to pull his weight in order to eat. Thankfully he met Prauf who did help the kid get into the guild, he was the only one who really treated Cal as both a worker but also a person. A kid.
- Door - A door is where this all began. Cal was sought out by a woman, a former Jedi herself and a pilot who were on a mission to find someone who could open a door. The person had to have what it took but they didn't really have much of a pool to choose from as most survivors of Order 66 were Inquisitors or hidden well enough not to be found. Cal was one of their only options after months of searching. He didn't really believe in said quest at first, that he was the person that they needed to open the door to the vault - to be the person to crack the puzzle and follow the steps that meant finding and opening the Holocron. But as it turns out, Cal's unwavering drive was enough to push him through the path, to open the door that had been closed for years, and thus open doors he thought that he himself had long since closed. His faith and trust in the Force, and himself.
🦋 Fae Court
List your top three choices for your characters adoptive court. The mods will choose the one out of those three options that seems the most fitting based on your app.- Summer Court
- Spring Court
- Day Court
🦋 RP Samples
TDM sampleTDM sample 2
(no subject)
cal kestis star wars
empire's most wanted
Human male, age seventeen
empire's most wanted
Human male, age seventeen
Abilities ⯌ Psychometry First and foremost, Cal is a powerful psychometric which means he can get echoes off of objects or people. Typically a strong memory or emotion that remains which he can view and feel (to an observer it may look like he's blanked out). It doesn't happen with every memory, though.
⯌ The Force As standard with every Jedi, Cal can use the Force to move objects - push or pull them, as well as use it to run and jump great distances, offer heightened speed and stamina as well as run across walls and do some heavy duty parkour.
⯌ Mind Cal can use the force to influence or sway weaker minds into doing what he wants by suggesting it to them. It doesn't work on everyone, and can wear off.
⯌ The Force As standard with every Jedi, Cal can use the Force to move objects - push or pull them, as well as use it to run and jump great distances, offer heightened speed and stamina as well as run across walls and do some heavy duty parkour.
⯌ Mind Cal can use the force to influence or sway weaker minds into doing what he wants by suggesting it to them. It doesn't work on everyone, and can wear off.
Out-of-Character ⯌ Backtag Feel free
⯌ Fourthwall Please discuss with me
⯌ Off-Limits I do not have many 'off limits', but for things like maiming Cal or murdering him, please speak to me first thank you!
⯌ Content warnings Content warnings for Cal include genocide and betrayal, PTSD which Cal definitely still has, death and murder, loss of found family, war, thoughts which might to some be considered suicidal (it's more that Cal sees himself as a soldier and his life as something that he might be willing to lay down in order to strike at the Empire and not that he actively wants to die). If you are uncomfortable with any of these subjects or would not like to interact with Cal at all, or discuss what subjects might come up with your character, please contact me either here or via pm! Comments are screened.
⯌ Fourthwall Please discuss with me
⯌ Off-Limits I do not have many 'off limits', but for things like maiming Cal or murdering him, please speak to me first thank you!
⯌ Content warnings Content warnings for Cal include genocide and betrayal, PTSD which Cal definitely still has, death and murder, loss of found family, war, thoughts which might to some be considered suicidal (it's more that Cal sees himself as a soldier and his life as something that he might be willing to lay down in order to strike at the Empire and not that he actively wants to die). If you are uncomfortable with any of these subjects or would not like to interact with Cal at all, or discuss what subjects might come up with your character, please contact me either here or via pm! Comments are screened.
In-Character
⯌ Mental Contact Being a Jedi means he does have mental shields against this kind of thing but you're definitely welcome to try; just speak to me about anything you'd like your character to find or what I'd prefer to remain off limits, thank you.
⯌ Flirt Feel free, but for things like kissing please ask me first thank you
⯌ Fight Cal is a bit of a brawler so.... sure, fighting is fine.
⯌ Injury Yes, but speak to me about severe injuries, maiming, disfigurement... you know, things like that.
⯌ Death Typically, if you give me a good enough reason for it I will probably be fine with it but I'd definitely prefer to talk it out first.
⯌ Other Physical contact in other ways like shoulder touching and whatnot is fine - or anything else I might've failed to mention! If there's anything you don't see here that you want, please contact me!
⯌ Mental Contact Being a Jedi means he does have mental shields against this kind of thing but you're definitely welcome to try; just speak to me about anything you'd like your character to find or what I'd prefer to remain off limits, thank you.
⯌ Flirt Feel free, but for things like kissing please ask me first thank you
⯌ Fight Cal is a bit of a brawler so.... sure, fighting is fine.
⯌ Injury Yes, but speak to me about severe injuries, maiming, disfigurement... you know, things like that.
⯌ Death Typically, if you give me a good enough reason for it I will probably be fine with it but I'd definitely prefer to talk it out first.
⯌ Other Physical contact in other ways like shoulder touching and whatnot is fine - or anything else I might've failed to mention! If there's anything you don't see here that you want, please contact me!
what doesn't kill me makes me want you more | dathomirs.
The ground was moving.
Cal was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to move, like the deck of a ship or a boat (not that Cal had ever been on a boat, but he'd seen it in holos). His hands are clinging to Merrin's arm, who he thinks is not much steadier than he is but she seems a little less ready to face-plant into the mud than he does.
"Whoops-" he nearly trips over his own feet and laughs.
He's not sure how much they'd had to drink, he lost track after two? Two drinks of the strongest drink that he'd ever had in his life, and that included the Bracca moonshine that Prauf had gifted him for his guild anniversary when he'd been fifteen years old (he'd meant well, he hadn't known that Cal had had never had anything nearly as strong -- he'd supervised him and then left him on his sofa the next morning -- guilty as he spent the night curled over a fresher).
Whatever it was, and however many it was - it had been fun to drop the Jedi decorum and have some fun, Merrin was about his age, and the two of them were typically running from one mission to another, not much time to stop and simply enjoy themselves.
BD-1, running ahead of them, stopped and looked back at the Jedi and Nightsister, waiting for them to catch up and making sure that neither one of these dumb organics passed out on him -- he'd warned them when simple scans showed blood alcohol had risen past sobriety and into "organics behaving badly" territory. They'd ignored him, of course. Merrin challenged Cal to "drink him under the table", and he of course wasn't going to turn that opportunity down. Now here they were. He pulled up the map to the mantis again, shook his head, gears whirring, and continued on.
Seemingly after a very long walk, a Jedi and Nightsister, clinging to one another to stay upright, clambered on board in a tangle of limbs.
Cal was pretty sure it wasn't supposed to move, like the deck of a ship or a boat (not that Cal had ever been on a boat, but he'd seen it in holos). His hands are clinging to Merrin's arm, who he thinks is not much steadier than he is but she seems a little less ready to face-plant into the mud than he does.
"Whoops-" he nearly trips over his own feet and laughs.
He's not sure how much they'd had to drink, he lost track after two? Two drinks of the strongest drink that he'd ever had in his life, and that included the Bracca moonshine that Prauf had gifted him for his guild anniversary when he'd been fifteen years old (he'd meant well, he hadn't known that Cal had had never had anything nearly as strong -- he'd supervised him and then left him on his sofa the next morning -- guilty as he spent the night curled over a fresher).
Whatever it was, and however many it was - it had been fun to drop the Jedi decorum and have some fun, Merrin was about his age, and the two of them were typically running from one mission to another, not much time to stop and simply enjoy themselves.
BD-1, running ahead of them, stopped and looked back at the Jedi and Nightsister, waiting for them to catch up and making sure that neither one of these dumb organics passed out on him -- he'd warned them when simple scans showed blood alcohol had risen past sobriety and into "organics behaving badly" territory. They'd ignored him, of course. Merrin challenged Cal to "drink him under the table", and he of course wasn't going to turn that opportunity down. Now here they were. He pulled up the map to the mantis again, shook his head, gears whirring, and continued on.
Seemingly after a very long walk, a Jedi and Nightsister, clinging to one another to stay upright, clambered on board in a tangle of limbs.
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dathomirs | for all the ghosts that are never gonna catch me
The directive was a simple one. Routine even. For the Inquisitorious' most loyal hound, it was a test of his extensive conditioning. He wasn't a normal Inquisitor - where there was some level of free will with them, with this one, most, if not all of it had been snuffed out He had one order, and one order only: obey.
Often, obey meant kill. Destroy. Terminate a target, eliminate a base or a threat by wiping it off the map and vanishing as if he'd never been there. No evidence. Typically, he was sent alone, where an Inquisitor would have an entire squadron of troopers to lead. There wasn't much else. He was a blank slate, a sum of what they made him into, a ghost. He didn't think of himself as anything because his thoughts were all programmed by someone else.
As was his training.
Whoever he'd once been had been washed away under months of torture and conditioning until he truly was nothing but a weapon of the Empire.
(It wasn't foolproof - on more than one occasion a hint of something would slip through his shields, causing him to question... but they'd take him back and start fresh, wipe the slate all over again).
The pilot did not let up once they landed on the nearly empty ruins of the planet Dathomir. A nightsister, his target, there had been a knowing smile on Grand's face but he did not know what it meant nor did he care enough to ask as he gathered his gear and boarded the ship. The chip in his hand revealed a woman, zabrak by the look of it - according to the information, one of the last of her kind. He said nothing, or felt nothing as he stared at the holographic image for a moment longer than normal, before stashing it once again. Adjusting his helmet, he drew his saber and stepped lightly over the rust red terrain to where he believed he would find her.
When he found the woman in question, he engaged, red blade flashing as he ducked, dodged, and struck against her. She was powerful; the report had said as much - not to underestimate her and do not come back until the job was complete. For a while it seemed like they were both on even ground and fairly matched well. Neither had the upper hand.
Not until she slipped past his defenses once, for only a second. The strike was strong enough to throw him back off his feel, the blank mask flying off his face as he hit the ground.
Get. Up. Do not fail. Or else.
Head still bowed, he climbed awkwardly back to his feet before meeting his opponents eyes, wiping blood from his mouth. Green eyes stared back from a face that might be all too familiar, if not slightly different - pale and thinner, but unmistakably the face of someone long since dead and gone stares back, eyes full of hate and rage, pain screaming into the force.
Often, obey meant kill. Destroy. Terminate a target, eliminate a base or a threat by wiping it off the map and vanishing as if he'd never been there. No evidence. Typically, he was sent alone, where an Inquisitor would have an entire squadron of troopers to lead. There wasn't much else. He was a blank slate, a sum of what they made him into, a ghost. He didn't think of himself as anything because his thoughts were all programmed by someone else.
As was his training.
Whoever he'd once been had been washed away under months of torture and conditioning until he truly was nothing but a weapon of the Empire.
(It wasn't foolproof - on more than one occasion a hint of something would slip through his shields, causing him to question... but they'd take him back and start fresh, wipe the slate all over again).
The pilot did not let up once they landed on the nearly empty ruins of the planet Dathomir. A nightsister, his target, there had been a knowing smile on Grand's face but he did not know what it meant nor did he care enough to ask as he gathered his gear and boarded the ship. The chip in his hand revealed a woman, zabrak by the look of it - according to the information, one of the last of her kind. He said nothing, or felt nothing as he stared at the holographic image for a moment longer than normal, before stashing it once again. Adjusting his helmet, he drew his saber and stepped lightly over the rust red terrain to where he believed he would find her.
When he found the woman in question, he engaged, red blade flashing as he ducked, dodged, and struck against her. She was powerful; the report had said as much - not to underestimate her and do not come back until the job was complete. For a while it seemed like they were both on even ground and fairly matched well. Neither had the upper hand.
Not until she slipped past his defenses once, for only a second. The strike was strong enough to throw him back off his feel, the blank mask flying off his face as he hit the ground.
Get. Up. Do not fail. Or else.
Head still bowed, he climbed awkwardly back to his feet before meeting his opponents eyes, wiping blood from his mouth. Green eyes stared back from a face that might be all too familiar, if not slightly different - pale and thinner, but unmistakably the face of someone long since dead and gone stares back, eyes full of hate and rage, pain screaming into the force.
dathomirs | i'm still fighting, i don't fear i've lost
To his credit, Cal does not remember that ledge being there.
He'd thought -- even as BD beeped a warning about the terrain being unsteady and uneven, that it'd be fine. Only eight stormtroopers, cake. He didn't count on the purge trooper coming out of literally nowhere and hitting him so hard that he felt the vibrations all down his arm as he strained to block what would've been a very deadly blow.
Kriff, he hates these guys. Cal scores a few hits on the heavy plastoid armor, pushing the trooper back, back away from the edge of the cliff. They'd come here to investigate a possible Jedi temple hidden somewhere on the planet, of course Imps were already crawling the place much to their displeasure. If they found it first, they'd ruin it, desecrate it, steal everything within - just as they did with everything else. Bogano. Illum. Kashyyk.
So maybe it was a lot personal.
He parried, blocked, pushed the trooper back and raised an arm to deliver a finishing strike. However, it left him an opening, allowing the trooper to land a hit against him, hard, knocking him back slightly. Cal tried to regain his focus but in those few moments it was all it took for the purge trooper to gain the upper hand and shove him back, putting him on the offensive. His arms ached, ribs burned with exertion. He ducked and dodged, rolling out of the way and found himself a bit too close to the edge. That was what he was trying to avoid.
He had to do something. He only had one chance, wearing out and already injured - he needed to end this.
So he lunged.
Driving his lightsaber into the armor as the trooper aimed another well placed shot - as he wrenched his saber free, his feet danced on the edge of the cliff, overbalancing and falling.
It wasn't a huge drop, but it wasn't an exactly straight one either. Outcroppings and ending on a slope, he was unconscious before he reached the bottom, his limp body coming to total stop several feet from the bottom.
--
Something was nudging him. Just give him five more minutes, he'll get up for work -- something shrill sounded in his air drawing a gasp from Cal as his eyes flew open.
BD-1 was jumping around him, trying to get him to wake up; when he saw he was up, he moved forward, beeping questioningly. Awareness washed over him, as did the pain.
"Ow, oh shit..." Ribs, possibly broken, definitely bruised. Blood dripped into his eyes from a cut. With the way everything blurred and distorted, and doubled in his vision - probably concussed. Definitely not good. He couldn't tell what else was broken or bruised, didn't think he could get up to find out. "I don't know if I can, buddy..." he mumbled in response to the question. The ground was shifting under him, rocking and rolling - he couldn't recall what he said when he pulled out his commlink with the arm that wasn't pinned under neath him to radio the ship, who answered him... anything.
Losing the fight with consciousness was a relief, even as BD continued to nudge him awake.
[ boop ]
He'd thought -- even as BD beeped a warning about the terrain being unsteady and uneven, that it'd be fine. Only eight stormtroopers, cake. He didn't count on the purge trooper coming out of literally nowhere and hitting him so hard that he felt the vibrations all down his arm as he strained to block what would've been a very deadly blow.
Kriff, he hates these guys. Cal scores a few hits on the heavy plastoid armor, pushing the trooper back, back away from the edge of the cliff. They'd come here to investigate a possible Jedi temple hidden somewhere on the planet, of course Imps were already crawling the place much to their displeasure. If they found it first, they'd ruin it, desecrate it, steal everything within - just as they did with everything else. Bogano. Illum. Kashyyk.
So maybe it was a lot personal.
He parried, blocked, pushed the trooper back and raised an arm to deliver a finishing strike. However, it left him an opening, allowing the trooper to land a hit against him, hard, knocking him back slightly. Cal tried to regain his focus but in those few moments it was all it took for the purge trooper to gain the upper hand and shove him back, putting him on the offensive. His arms ached, ribs burned with exertion. He ducked and dodged, rolling out of the way and found himself a bit too close to the edge. That was what he was trying to avoid.
He had to do something. He only had one chance, wearing out and already injured - he needed to end this.
So he lunged.
Driving his lightsaber into the armor as the trooper aimed another well placed shot - as he wrenched his saber free, his feet danced on the edge of the cliff, overbalancing and falling.
It wasn't a huge drop, but it wasn't an exactly straight one either. Outcroppings and ending on a slope, he was unconscious before he reached the bottom, his limp body coming to total stop several feet from the bottom.
--
Something was nudging him. Just give him five more minutes, he'll get up for work -- something shrill sounded in his air drawing a gasp from Cal as his eyes flew open.
BD-1 was jumping around him, trying to get him to wake up; when he saw he was up, he moved forward, beeping questioningly. Awareness washed over him, as did the pain.
"Ow, oh shit..." Ribs, possibly broken, definitely bruised. Blood dripped into his eyes from a cut. With the way everything blurred and distorted, and doubled in his vision - probably concussed. Definitely not good. He couldn't tell what else was broken or bruised, didn't think he could get up to find out. "I don't know if I can, buddy..." he mumbled in response to the question. The ground was shifting under him, rocking and rolling - he couldn't recall what he said when he pulled out his commlink with the arm that wasn't pinned under neath him to radio the ship, who answered him... anything.
Losing the fight with consciousness was a relief, even as BD continued to nudge him awake.
[ boop ]
