CP'ed the Bio from here, ma'm.

    * name: Maziel Kel'Shadar
    * callsign: Maze
    * spec:Slicer
    * rank:TBA
    * position:TBA
    * squad:TBA
    * platoon:TBA
    * company: Phoenix Company
    * battalion: Dragon Battalion
    * regiment: Osiris Regiment
    * division: Stormtrooper Corps
    * Homeworld: Falleen
    * age: 51
    * species: Falleen
    * gender: Male
    * skin: Normally light olive, but varying by mood
    * height: 2.03 Meters
    * weight: 98 kg
    * hair: none
    * facial:none
    * eyes: Dark green
    * scar: none visible when normally dressed.
    * tattoo: none
    * cyber: none
    * affiliation: Vast Empire
    * nick: Maze
    * fightingstyle: Classic Vibrosabre Fencing (quite similar to Lightsaber Form II combat)
    * profession: VEI Liaison Officer

History

Born and raised on Falleen as a son to the Head of House Kel'Shadar, Maziel had an interesting place in the hierarchy of the noble houses, being the son of a well respected noble and a commoner . Even though he was legitimised by his father taking his mother as his second wife, young Maziel had to endure insults based on his heritage on a daily basis. While he was still a child this led to him leading a secluded live, mostly surrounded by servants, personal trainers and computers. Over the years he developed a knack for handling technology so well that the family's security systems couldn't stop him anymore when he decided to leave the compound. While his computer skills were his dominant ability he also got educated in Vibro Sabre Fencing to settle duels. Soon it became his method of choice to respond to insults by simply challenging the offender to a duel. But even after numerous duels he had won the insults kept on coming and Maziel's frustration grew to whole new levels. After hearing about the Vast Empire, an organisation where an individual could rise through the ranks, being judged not by his birth but his prowess instead. Not quite satisfied with the perspective of becoming a normal stormtrooper though, to Maziels pleasure he was found to be perfect material for the Vast Empire Intelligence Service. His natural, some would say pheromone enhanced, charm and his knowledge of electronics proved to be the combination the Army had been looking for at the moment. So instead of running him through normal basic training Maziel received only a crash course in Stormtrooper conduct, tactics and weapons, with most of his time spent in classes relevant for Intelligence personell like Electronics, Social Engineering and Acting. After three standard years filled with studies and field training Maziel graduated and was placed in active duty. From then on he quickly rose through the ranks, fulfilling his missions with cunning and cold efficiency. About two years ago he was sent out to infiltrate the organisation of Worga the Hutt.

Personality

Like most Falleen Maziel exhibits near perfect self control, as long as needed. Mild mannered and well behaved, soft spoken and well cultured his heritage shines clearly through. But the self control and the endless hours of acting classes allow him to adopt almost any personality and behavioral pattern with enough preparation time.

I'm liking it Jango

But why the name Jango? If you're callsign is Maal?
Makes it a bot confusing.

Native language: Twi'leki
Hair color: none
Eye Color: Green
Skin Color: Blue
Hight: 5,5
Weight: 150
Age: 21
Name: Zeven Mohebbi
Physical Build: Broad shoulders, short, muscular
Home World: Ryloth
Talents/Skills: Skilled at piloting and mechanics. Good at hands only fighting. Prefers blaster pistols to blaster rifles.




Zeven grew up as the son of a famous trader from the outer rim. As his father was a known criminal, they were frequently on the move. He didn't dare stay some where for more than a day. Since they moved a lot, Zeven never made any true friends. There was one place where they were forced to stay for a week due to the lack of fuel for their ship. Zeven was about 10 when this happened, they had to spend their nights awake looking for any sign of police or bounty hunters. When Zeven could go out side he made only one friend. She was a twi'lek as well, they would spend their days together playing differnt games. Her name was Mission, this name pleased Zeven's ears. Every time her name was mentioned a tingle would shoot down his spine. After that stay they continued to roam the galaxy. On the eve of Zeven's birthday a bounty hunter named Trx-23 tracked down His father, It was the worst birthday ever. Zeven woke expecting to see a birthday cake, instead he saw his dad's head disconnected from his body. After his dad was murdered, Zeven resolved to fighting. When the Empire heard of a menace walking through streets fighting any one that would pose a good match, they went out to find this menace. Zeven was walking through the streets at the time they came looking. About 10 storm troopers in white plated armor marched down the path. Zeven darted into a alley to the side. He swore one of the troopers saw him. The alley was dark, he ran up a ladder leading to the top of a hotel. As he was about to get to the top, a trooper ran into the alley. He shot a stun blast toward Zeven. He jump onto the roof just as the blast hit where his foot was seconds before. By the sound of the clanking from below, the trooper was coming up the ladder. Zeven ran for the door leading down into the hotel. Just as he came toward the door, it burst open. 3 storm troopers stood there holding there E-11's. Zeven backed up, he bumped into something. He turned around to find 4 more, Zeven backed up toward the edge of the building. "Freeze," said one of the storm troopers. Zeven continued to back up toward the edge. "I said freeze," he repeated. Zeven continued to back up. "Your giving me no choice," the trooper said. Zeven jumped off the edge, the trooper fired a stun blast but missed him on his decent. Zeven hit an awning, causing him to bounce several times. He roled off on to the ground. Zeven picked him self up and ran down the path, the troopers were on his tail. Stun blasts flew around him as he ran through the crowds.  He went down another alley, looking over his shoulder as he went. He ran into what seemed to be a wall. He picked him self up off the ground. "Freeze," said a voice. "DANG IT!" Zeven thought as the trooper pushed him into a transport.

yeah I know.

Welcome LongShot,

Just fill out the following Character Outline, and post it here in this topic:

Physical Appearance

Native Language:
Hair Color:
Eye Color:
Skin Color:
Height:
Weight:
Age:
Full Name:
Physical Build:
Homeworld:


Talents/Skills
-list them here

Also include any other characteristics you'd like to add.

Heya boys and girls, I 'spose I'll introduce myself. My name's Vasili Rustam and I'm the new Assistant Instructor around here. All you new people can call me Decembrist, or Decem if you wanna get friendly. I'll be helping out from now on, so just treat me as big brother and we can get you on through to a squad ASAP.



Now, to start: Kyle. It's a nice first try, but there's a couple things to change on your Bio here.

Let's start with the basics - we can't have little 13 year olds running around in armor and barely lifting a blaster. They die too easily, and we wouldn't want that. Up the age a little bit, I believe the minimum requirement is 18. Height and weight will change along with it.

When choosing a name, think about all the friends you probably have. Are any of them named Chad 244? They usually have a first and last name like Chad Smith. Change that up, and you're good.

A little more physical description might be nice. I'm sure there's more to your character than two descriptive words.

Nextly... just watch your spelling and grammar. In general, we like that. It's "Nar Shadaa".

Now, the challenging part. Please look here - it's a guide for writing a solid Bio on our site. Tips for talents are here, as well as tips for effective Histories. Your history that you've created is not only short, but it's rather unbelieveable. Beefing it up a bit would help your case tremendously; so, avoiding the risk of telling you what to do, I'll let you use your imagination on how to do that.

So, when you think you have a nice looking, revised Bio for us, post it back here and we'll see what we can do for you.

-V

Ghostwolf Darkstar

Physical Appearance:
Young, handsome, sharply dressed in the height of Imperial fashion.  A hard face, focused eyes and a wicked smile full of guile and mischief.  He has the look of a hustler and womanizer.  Ghostwolf struts around in an aristocratic swagger, an instinctual sense of superior nobility.

Native Language:  Basic
Hair Color:  Black
Eye Color:  Black
Skin Color:  Olive tan
Height:  5 ft 6 in
Weight:  154 lbs.
Age:  25
Fullname:  Ghostwolf Darkstar
Homeworld:  Coruscant

Talents/Skills:
Proficient with blaster pistols.  Professional Sabacc and Pazaak player, all around gambler.  Quick wit and tongue, an expert in charm and deceit.  An unscrupulous, greedy hedonist full of ambition and desire for power.

History:
          Before joining the Empire, Ghostwolf was a professional Sabacc player plying his trade throughout the galactic underworld.  Through gambling skill and questionable tactics, Ghostwolf soon amassed a small fortune, an estimated sum of IC 100,000.  He claims, among other things, to have  once won a starship from a smuggler in Mos Eisley. Other acquisitions of note include a pod-racer, a disabled combat droid and an entire shipment of spice.  None of these claims have been confirmed nor has there been any proof of these items.
          Ghostwolf learned his trade from the mercenaries, smugglers, bounty-hunters and thugs who frequented the cantina his mother danced in.  The biological father of Ghostwolf is unknown.  Ghostwolf's mother, Jeli Zah, claims the father is the Corellian industrialist Vampri Ainai, heir to the Ainai Family fortune.  Again these reports are unconfirmed and Ghostwolf himself denies any knowledge of the identity of his father.

A Recent History of Ghostwolf Darkstar
 
          Mos Espa, Tatooine

          Midnight in the desert.  All forms of electric debauchery bolt through the slums of Mos Espa.  A shady back-alley cantina pulsates with the writhing bodies of twi'leks, scoundrels and reptilean scum.  A den of mercs, hunters, pirates and smugglers.  All there to celebrate the gaming spirit.
          Action in the back room:  Sabacc, Corellian Gambit rules.  Ghostwolf glances at his cards; an Idiot's Array. 
          "I raise," said Ghostwolf, "10,000 credits". 
          A grimace appears across the zabrak face of the old space pirate.  He looks at his hand: 23, Pure Sabacc.  He stares at Ghostwolf's youthful mug and despises it.  The excessive opulent finery and fashion of the young gambler angers him.
          "How'd a punk like you get that kind of cred?," asked the pirate.
          "For the amount wagered, you can find out." replied Ghostwolf.
          "Alright pretty boy you've got a bet.  23!  Pure Sabacc!," said the zabrak grinning.
        "A 23 huh?  Nice hand.  Apt for scum.  But a gentleman requires more than that to be beat.  Idiot's Array, the pot is mine.," said Ghostwolf. 
          Ghostwolf rakes in his winnings with a very pleased expression.  The old space pirate pounds his fist on the table and yells,
          "Damn it! Ten hands in a row, Ghostwolf, no one's that lucky."
          "Luck is a woman and she only loves the beautiful.," said Ghostwolf, "Fate was cruel to you friend.  A face like that will never know fortune's favor."
          Ghostwolf tucks the credits under his snake feather jacket and feels around for his hold-out blaster.  He fumbles a bit and the old pirate gets the drop on him.
          "Alright punk.  Cheater's justice, hand over the creds and you can go home in one piece." said the pirate sticking the blaster into Ghostwolf's face.
          "Ah I see.  For a moment I thought we'd play cards like gentlemen.  But now we've degenerated into common savagery," said Ghostwolf. 
          Ghostwolf triggers the hold-out mechanism in his sleeve.  A blaster appears in his hand.  He squeezes two shots.  The beams whizz by the old space pirate's head.  Out of ammo he runs for the door.  Smack.  The old zabrak pistol whips Ghostwolf's head knocking him unconcious.
    "Hahaha..you stupid kid this is what you get for  playing with scum," said the zabrak. 
          The old pirate searches his pockets and finds Ghostwolf's bankroll.
          "67,000 IC.  Heh, not bad kid.  Listen if you survive this; come and find me.  I'll give you a chance to win your credits back," said the zabrak before squeezing a blast into Ghostwolf's stomach.

Edited my profile.  History now included.

Alright no problem.  I've changed lightsaber to starship.  I'll post my specialty story soon.

LongShot

Howdy, the name's Dec and I'm one of the assistant DIs around here. Don't really have the approval to put you through anywhere, but I can say that it's an impressive first post here. Doesn't really avoid cliche, but the writing was great and easy to follow.

And thanks for putting your height and weight in both metric and standard. Some of us are too American for our own good.

One thing to note, though, is that the Bothan SpyNet was allied with the Rebels during the Rebellion. Let's hope you've forgotten those tendencies.

Aeos should be running along any time now to tell you to go ahead and post on the "Catch 22" topic, which is here. Take a looksie at it if you wish.

Thanks, and good luck.

Physical Appearance

Native Language: Common
Hair Color: Blonde
Eye Color: Blue
Skin Color: Light Tan
Height: 5' 7"
Weight: 120 llbs
Age: 25
Full Name: Katsuka
Physical Build: Lightly Athletic
Homeworld: Coruscant


History:

Katsuka was born on Coruscant to a pig-headed father and abusive mother. At the age of 6, she was sold to a crime syndicate so that her parents could flee the planet for what they believed to be a better life. Serving primarily as an errand girl, Katuska was taught never to talk unless expected, never to disobey, and always listen. In that, she also learned to read between the lines and listen to what she was not meant to hear.

However, this life only existed until she hit her teens. Puberty. She was forced to become a dancer. For years, she was whipped and beaten until she could perform well enough to entice the old men and strange aliens into bedding her. Her career advanced yet again. For years more, she was used this way, dancing, stripping, and slipping away with a wealthy and corrupt buyer for the night.

---

One Month Ago

It was yet another unknown world. Katsuka was never told where they were going, but she always knew what she was going to be doing. Her fellow slaves around her all looked down with glazed eyes, looking past their shackled feet, as if looking through the very cargo hold that bound them.

Katsuka had the same dead look. She had lost most of her hope many, many years ago. How old was she now? Did it matter, anymore? There was no hope for her, now. She was doomed to this life for the rest of her days, she told herself, despite a small voice in the back of her head begging for resistance.

"Hey! Get up, you lot! We're here! You! Slavegirl!" Katsuka looked up at the human issuing orders. He pointed to her. "Strip and put this on. Hurry up!" After a few moments of fiddling with the pad behind the jailer, her energy bindings released her arms, legs, and neck, though her shackles still remained. She was tossed a bit of netting and nothing else.

"Yes, sir," She said clearly. She learned to never mumble to anyone, despite herself. She slipped off her rags and donned the netting. She was completely exposed. She even blushed. She had never been naked in front of so many other slaves. Some small amount of her modesty had survived all these years. After being lead through the door of the ship, she realized they had landed directly behind a stage. She was shoved forward, and suddenly, she was in the middle of a stage with a single pole. She cringed internally at the sight.

The loud speakers sounded as she forced herself to begin her dance. She learned that she was being sold. Not for the night, but permanently... and the highest bidder was a hutt. No! She heard herself cry. She continued to dance until the bids were closed, and the hutt remained on top. She was sold for a very hefty price, and she couldn't help a sense of pride in how much she had cost. She had never been with a hutt, but she had heard horror stories from some of the other slaves. It would not be pleasant.

After the datapads had all been filled out, and all "merchandise" aboard the hutt's ship, Katsuka was bathed quickly, then confined to her quarters, rather than being shackled to a wall or put in a small cage. It was a step up from what she had been living in. Katsuka took one more glance around the slave dormitory and the dozens of other beautiful slaves before lying down on the bed she was assigned and falling into a restless sleep.

---

Katsuka's nap was quickly interrupted, however, as she was tossed out of the bed and into the floor in a heap.

"W-what's going on?" She asked in her surprise.

"I don't know!" A young twi'lek replied, as startled as Katsuka was.

After several minutes of the ship rocking back and forth, violently shaking and threating to break under the pressure, the sounds subsided and moments later, the doors opened.

Standing there were 4 men in white armor, their faces covered in a shinny white and black helmet. In the middle of the four, stood a 5th holding a datapad and reading off of it. Katuska was offered her freedom. The slug lord had been arrested for various crimes and this "Vast Empire" was offering her not only her freedom, but a position in the ranks of the Imperial Army. A chance to not only regain her freedom, but to strike back at those who imprisoned her.

Hope rushed back to Katsuka, her blood pumped furiously. Her glazed eyes sprang back to life, and her arms held the strength of life once again. Despite her years of captivity and degradation, she was still a fighter, and now, more than ever, she wanted to fight back.

She joined at 25.


Talents/Skills
- Seduction
- Deception
- Standing Out or Blending in a crowd
- Agile Fighting
- Dancing

Wow, well done Kat,
Sorry I took my sweet time getting back to you, bin feeling sickish lately

Now, all I need you to do is post on Catch-22, ignore Kyle's post.
Also post up your specialty story.

Here is a link to the Specialties Choices:
http://www.vastempire.com/wiki/index.php?title=Category:Corps

And here is the link to the Specialty Net. Be sure to read the rules for it.
[url]
http://comnet.imperialnetwork.com/comnet/58/[/url]

Kyle, your post on Cath-22, I cant allow it in the passing bar, You need to read everyone' posts and try and follow it.
We also encourage troopers to post in the third person's view,
meaning:
Aeos prefered to walk rather than drive
instead of:
I prefer to walk rather then driving,

You also ignored Decembrist advice about your biography, if you don't make the changes he asked, I can let you pass that either.
Please get on IRC sometime, then we can chat?

Kat, Longshot you both are looking good, hope to see those specialty stories soon

Heya foehammer. Welcome to the Corps.

If you wanna get started on the training process, please read up a bit at the Bios being produced. This is your first assignment: Create a Bio. When this is done, either myself or Aeos will instruct you further.

Physical Appearance

Native Language: Galactic Basic
Hair Color: Light Brown
Eye Color: Green
Skin Color: White
Height: 6'
Weight:159 lbs
Age:19
Full Name: Ron-Goron (yes it's my callname too)
Nickname: Ron (IC and OCC preferably)
Physical Build: lean, athletic
Homeworld: Corellia

Personality

Ron's personality is difficult to discern, due to his constant tendency to switch from a mellow, non-responsive persona to one that is jovial and exuberant.  This is not a product of his lack to control his emotions, rather, it is a tactful practice to hide his emotions.

Talents/Skills

-excels in mathematics
-mechanic
-good gambler
-talented lier
-fair shot with blaster weapons
-good lock picker

History (and writing sample)

Envious eyes of young pilots, coupled with flat noses pressed upon the display cases, were visible outside of the Ship-bay shop.  The shop was one of the most prestigious in the Galaxy, and at the time, the best in Corellia.  Understandably so, it was every young pilot's dream to own one of the sleek and shiny personal ships that attracted their pilot's eyes; it was a dream for them to actually build one of the ships.

Ron-Goron, a mechanic himself, didn't share these feelings as did the other young men outside the window.  He took his share of the fame and the pride of having the job, but he didn't care for ships.  Not these ships anyway.  No, if anything Ron wanted a larger ship, perhaps a smuggler's ship even.  He preferred not to think of it too often, as he knew the possibility was unlikely.  He shooed away the pesky onlookers and dimmed the lights so as to discourage them from looking in through the windows.  After doing so, he sat on one of the packing crates and waited till closing hour... wouldn't be long now.

"Boy." called Don Maer-Goron, his uncle.  Ron opened his eyes for a minute, before closing them.  Don Maer often called more than one of the younger mechanics "boy" when he wanted them, so eventually they all learned that it saved time to wait until he called them by their real names.

"Boy... Ron, where are ye?"  Don Maer called again.  This time Ron rose from his recumbent posture and replied.  "Ship bay, Uncle." 

Don Maer entered the doorway, but stopped halfway through.  His face held a pleasant look about it, and the tone of his voice was eager and impatient. "Come Ron, store is closing early today."

Ron looked up quizzically at his uncle.  This was abnormal procedure, his uncle never closed shop until closing hour as a rule.  Ron asked, "Is there something wrong, Don?"

"No no, nothing wrong... just things to do, go on now, get yourself home before the traffic starts." Don Maer answered.  Ron was still unconvinced, but got his things none the less, and walked down to the loading dock.  As he came to the parking area, he waited for his uncle to turn before he dived behind an unpacked crate.  Something was up.

Sure enough, as soon as closing hour hit, a small Corellian shuttle entered the loading dock, and landed.  From within came two tall figures, one of them a twi'lek and the other another human.  Both were male, and heavily built, and both of them approached Don Maer. 

"Ah!" said Don Maer upon their approach.  "My partner's have come, welcome, welcome, I am more than ready to accommodate the agreements."

"Don Maer."  said the twi'lek.  "I hope you haven't forgotten the second part of the deal."

"Deal?" Maer asked.

"Where is the money?"  asked the human dealer.

"Oh!  Haha..." Maer nervously laughed.  "Oh yes... the money will come as soon as you two kind sirs have signed the contract."

"No contract." sneered the twi'lek.  "We want the money first."

"You fellas agreed to the contract." cried Maer.  "You... you promised me you'd cut me a fair deal."

"And we will." interrupted the human dealer.  "You get your life, and a good name in the dealer's market... once we get the money."

"But this is a giant investment, I'll go broke in a couple of days!  What happened to the partnership, the deal?"

"We'll talk about that another time." said the twi'lek.

"No, I won't do it.  You boys will be the death of me."

"So be it." said the human.  And without another word, he pulled out a blaster pistol, and shot Don Maer in the head.

As Maer was shot in the head, Ron gasped in shock.  He had never seen a man killed before, so when Maer was shot, Ron did everything he could to keep from yelling outright.  He managed to stifle the yell, but he couldn't help from gasping, out loud.

The two dealers looked at each other quickly before the twi'lek whispered, "We told the scum-bag to show up alone, now we got to search the place for the money... and for witnesses?"

"Just shut-up and start searching." grumbled the human dealer.  "It's probably a pit boy anyways, nothing we can't handle."

As it turned out, when the two underground dealers approached the unpacked crate, they were beset upon by two fuming cans of toxic gas, a sandblaster, and an energy torch.  They obviously never saw it coming.

***

As it turned out, the authorities didn't "believe" that Ron killed the underground dealers.

"Son, these weren't two hooligans out for a pleasure raid.  These fellows were experienced killers.  Don Maer might of been able to kill them, but you sure couldn't have.  Now I'm going to ask you again, where did these materials come from which were used to kill him, and who did it?"

"Are you kidding me?" said Ron.  "You guys are top-notch detectives, who are so good a forensics that you can tell what kind of bacteria touched a freaking grain of rice... and yet you can't clearly see that I'm the one who killed them!?"

One of the detectives, one of the more honest men of the group, pulled aside the lead detective and said, "Give us a minute, kid... Look Derek, the kid's DNA is plastered all over that stuff, and even in the cabinets where he got it.  Now you know that he killed them as well as I do... can't you cut him a break and give him the credit for catching them?"

Derek replied, "I've been on this case for seven years, Maark... if I report that they were killed by a minor, I'll be laughed at and let go from the agency.  I can't let that happen Maark, I've worked too hard to get to where I am!"

"Then what will you say?" asked Maark, the honest detective.

"I'll tell them they were on a raid when they had a shoot-off with Maer.  We'll say that they died simultaneously." Derek replied.

"And the kid?" asked Maark.

"Imperial army for him.  Or fifteen years in solitary confinement.  His choice."

"On what charges?"  asked Maark.

"Oh thats easy enough.  Illegal use of corporate machinery, participation in a underground dealer's brawl, use of corporate machinery with malign intent..."

"You're cruel." said Maark.

"Watch your words."  said Derek.  "Remember, you're getting half of the prize money.

"Yeah." sighed Maark.  "If only it wasn't for... the money."

I suppose I'm supposed to post here saying that I am indeed alive or something, then post an outline...I'll get back to you guys on that last part.