Administrator
- Intent: To create a helpful and loyal companion for Voph Sitdrisa'yr - A respected colleague and friend.
- Image Credit: The header and dividers were edited and put together by
Srina Talon
using Photoshop CC/Elements.- Header: "Lightning Bird" by Brandon Ellis
- Div Template: "Silence Graphics 2" by SilenceGrafix
- Role: Adventuring Companion, Guardian, and Mount
- Permissions: N/A
- Age: Ten Months
- Force Sensitivity: Force User
- Appearance: Horace typically appears as a traditional Snow Owl of Alderaan with a large-head and transfixed golden eyes. He is in a completely "Average" percentile with a weight in his "resting" state of approximately 2.9kg and a wingspan of approximately 1.5 meters. Regardless, he is still considered a very large bird. Lush white feathers dappled with sparse black or gray spots mark him as more than just a standard derivative of any old garden variety owl. His striking coloring is unusual for some, though, not unheard of. He has a curved beak and wickedly hooked talons that are used for both combat, food, and the occasional manual activity.
- Name: Horace [The Wise]
...Or so he thinks. - Notable Possessions: A few shiny stones, crystals, or seashells that he likes to keep in his nest. His favorite of all is a small laser-cut Nak'tra Crystal that he can be seen carrying about in his beak or perhaps nudging along carefully with hooked claws. It was slimmed down to the shape of a waning crescent moon with rather intricate patterns etched on the inside. The significance relates to his "mother" who often quoted anecdotes and stories from her lunar heritage.
- Personality: Horace is very patient. Though most snow owls are solitary beasts he prefers to remain with sentient beings. He listens quietly to determine what sort of individual he is dealing with and takes advantage of the fact that the majority of the galaxy mistakes him as little more than a flying poultry roast. He is curious, careful, and tends to err on the side of caution. He has attained a very dry sense of humor from his creator and occasionally abuses the right to sarcasm. He does not suffer fools, though, he is very duty-bound, resourceful, and bright. He is uniquely self-aware and once he becomes fond of someone that bond will remain steadfast.
- Training:
- Hunting & Gathering: Both for himself and for edible and or useful items for his companions.
- Eavesdropping: His near-silent flight and excellent hearing aid in remaining undetected while recording gossip and extremely pertinent morsels of information.
- Snark: He excels in irreverent, often humorous, sarcasm.
- Poetry, Literature, Culture, and Language: His mother often spoke of the value of a well-learned mind. She ensured that he had the ability to listen to any number of dynamic great-thinkers of the era through Holo-Recordings and Holo-Vids.
- Owl-Fu (Death From Above): As his primary function is to become an adequate adventuring partner, Horace, has spent endless hours honing his reflexes, hearing, and flying prowess. His competency in a combat scenario in his resting form is limited. It is no Teräs Käsi, but, he can sure scratch someone's eyes out.
- Owl-awan Training: Horace was created through a variety of methods that left him far more gifted than the typical Snow Owl. He can use a form of telepathy to communicate and his physical form can fluctuate between solid, shadow, and something quite large. He is adept with limited cryokinesis and can sense individuals within the Force.
- Combat Function: Horace is most adept at providing eyes in the sky in tense scenarios, however, he can dive and drop out of the sky at a frightening rate. He can distract the enemy either by ferociously attacking unshielded areas or by screeching loud enough to give everyone involved a headache. He is a shrewd tactician and won't hesitate to point out the flaw in any plan. He has limited experience in the field but makes up for it by remaining cool, calm, and collected. He respects the chain of command unless he finds the directive incredibly stupid or against the potential success of the mission. Then, he might get a little fussy.
Overall, in his smaller form, he relies on the element of surprise. When he chooses to ascend to a much larger and slightly primeval state that also uses the element of surprise. He is slow in that state but his strength both in his beak and talons become proportional to his size. The gusts of wind created by his wings can knock a grown man off his feet.
- Snowflake: Horace is very, very special and he knows it. His initial appearance can be misleading and the oft wrong assumption about his true nature tends to work in his favor. Few people watch what they say in front of the birds and even fewer expect said bird to morph into something the size of a small aircraft.
- Shapeshifting: He can take three forms. Small, a preferred state, shadow, or a super-sized upgrade. This versatility allows Horace an ease of movement and freedom that otherwise wouldn't be available. He can go places that most of his companions wouldn't be able to, such as through small openings, like air vents, and most are none-the-wiser. It can't be hit with physical attacks in this state. It can also be utilized as a mount in its largest metamorphosis.
- Cryo Edge: When Horace flaps his wings with focus and intent he can press a wave of cold at an opponent in both of his physical forms. The severity of the cold, or even ice, is dependant upon its size. When he is smaller it is far less damaging with the application of moderately sized shards of ice that are mostly an inconvenience. When he takes on the larger transformation it can actually form sharp ice pikes great enough to fatally skewer a near-human.
- Telepathy: He can use this skill to organize forces and communicate with others without ever needing to pick up a comm or give himself away. He can warn others of an impending skirmish long before they clash with the enemy and provide a tactical foothold in many scenarios. He can also emit a telepathic scream that simultaneously instills a sense of fear and mind-numbing pain.
- Smarty Pants: Horace is full of potentially life-changing or possibly useless facts. One may never know when knowledge alone could turn the tide of war.
- Enhanced Senses: Extremely sensitive hearing and excellent eye-sight, binocular vision, for distant objects.
- Breathe Anywhere: Due to the variety of alchemical properties applied while he was still little more than an embryo he does not require ideal atmospheric conditions and can survive for a time, if needed, within the vacuum of space.
- Force Sense: He can sense Force Signatures and accurately determine who they belong to, if, they have met previously.
- Light Burns: As Horace is a Sith-Spawn any sort of Force Light will negatively affect him. If it is potent enough it can actually singe his feathers and cause him to lose control while flying. If that were to happen he would be a sitting duck, pun intended, because he wouldn't be able to fly very well again until the damage was rectified. All of his inherent skill in the air would be cut down and nullified.
- Void Stone/Ysalamir: The application of a Void Stone or one of "those rotten lizards" will steal his ability to communicate and stifle, or out-right stop, his ability to produce ice or manipulate it. He can still transform as that is a biological trait that is not tied to the Force.
- No Extra Defense: Large or small he is vulnerable when in either physical state. He has no armor, no natural defenses, and most modern weapons would tear through its feathers and skin like a hot knife through butter. A well-aimed spear, even primitive, would be effective.
- Incorporeal Issues: When in a shadow or gaseous form he can only move at half the pace a human can run. He is also vulnerable to energy-based attacks and can be stopped, or trapped, by a forcefield.
- Eyesore: When Horace is in his larger, more beastly form, he really can't hide. He is slower with amplified blind spots, which, could be a death sentence because of his basic physiology. Owls have no peripheral vision and must actually turn their head to see in one direction or the other.
- Farsighted: He can't focus on objects that are too close.
- Transforming Burn Out: Horace can move from his smaller "resting" form to the "shadow form" reasonably liberally. He cannot shift rapidly from his larger form to any other. It takes time and energy to recover enough so that he may return to an acceptable size. The length of time required can vary, though, it may take even longer if he has been injured.
She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, up close, or far away. Horace did not have the heart to tell his mother that she should perhaps steer clear of any culinary practices. His wings flapped in earnest and emitted a cooling wave that brushed the thick, cloying smoke, from the vast kitchen within Sinner's Well on Ryloth. When the air cleared he could imagine that the slightly blurry features of the Echani were fixed into a subtle sense of vague annoyance with whatever it was that she had most definitely set on fire. Most wouldn't realize it. He had spent enough time watching her, distantly, that his owl-eyes picked up everything she wished to hide. The moments when sadness swept through her; unbidden. The things she wished no one else to see. <<...Perhaps, you should get some air?>>
The acrid scent didn't bother him. He didn't need to breathe and didn't have much of a sense of smell to begin with. She did.
Silver eyes pierced through him like a thunderbolt thrown down from the heavens, but, it lessened almost as quickly as it began. He hadn't noticed that the non-verbal response had caused his heart to race within his bird-breast until it began to slow. She knew, though. The Master of the House had often warned him passively that the eyes of his maker could be exceedingly cruel.
"I will go outside because I wish to. Not because you brought it up."
If Horace could have smiled he would have.
<<Of course, Mother.>>
Most people thought that his mother was cold, distant, and barren as the fallen snow. He knew differently. His wings rose and fell when she raised her arm toward him and the avian creature fell into a gentle glide before his talons found purchase in the bracer on her forearm. He could have flown out behind her as the halls and ceilings were high enough for him to just squeeze through in the veritable fortress, but, this was easier by far. It also reminded him of being an owlet. Clinging to her as if she were the only thing real in the world. He hadn't understood the reality he had been born to for quite some time. Everything seemed harsh and unreasonable. The nature of people, in essence, warring with themselves rather than using communicative efforts to resolve their issues was terribly insane. Some, were cruel just to be cruel.
Reality had hardened his mother. Would it harden him too?
The Ninox twisted it's head all the way around so it could watch her expression as they walked. So severe. She didn't look down once but she did raise her hand to smooth the ruffled white feathers near the nape of his neck. It was the little things, small gestures, that brought understanding. Her perspective was unique compared to the great thinkers of their time. Those that worked and toiled away at their craft, political masterminds, inventors, and philosophers. Some would consider him an abomination. And yet, he had been conceived, created, and born by the delicate hands and ideas of a woman who could scarcely make toast. Everyone had their strengths—Everyone had their weaknesses. The skills of his mother were understated, though, she had a knack for leading. For getting others to do what was required.
He felt gifted that she had required him. Raised him. She could have had any number of droids caretake a tiny rambunctious owlet, but, she had chosen to do so herself. She never judged him. Never shamed him for his unending questions, quirks, or difficulties. She never begrudged him for being new to the world. Not even when he coughed up a pellet, essentially, barfing right in front of her.
His differences, to her, no matter how questionable, were a blessing. Normal.
It made him feel as if he wasn't the only one of his kind. Connections forged with others gave him a tether to hang on to. Watching them work, live, and interact. He learned far more about people and their general character through plain and simple observation. Mother had taught him that.
A comfortable silence pervaded. Neither felt the need to speak more than necessary, though, it was likely a byproduct of being reared by an individual that listened thrice as much as she spoke. Something seemed to be on her mind though. Horace was uncertain if he should ask. There were some things she didn't like talking about, though, for his benefit she would explain to the best of her ability. He usually felt bad for asking in that instance. <<I overheard that Darth Metus is attempting to assemble a wine collection.>>
<<I foresee an extensive collection of corks.>>
His matter-of-fact humor didn't seem to register. She didn't even blink. That in itself was far from unusual. It was the fact that there was still some sort of storm cloud circling her that he could feel, only barely, by means which he only scarcely understood. His head turned slowly back around and he raised his wing to preen a little. His feathers puffed. What to do?
<<Are you upset about burning the spicy nuna wings?>>
"No. I will try again, at least, until my Master returns to show me once more."
That answered half of his inquiry. Was she being deliberately vague on purpose? Or, was it just her way? Hard to tell. <<. . . But, you are unhappy?>>
She didn't answer that either. At least, not right away. The light of day spilled in through the portal to the front door and a welcome breeze gave him the urge to spread his wings and take flight. That was where he belonged. In the air. Free. The fact that the pale woman was clearly contemplating something kept him where he was. A soft hoot escaped him and Horace nuzzled against the front of her robes for a moment. The action was telling. He could feel her relent, slowly, but surely.
"Are you happy?"
It was his turn to be quiet. Was he? <<Yes.>>
Srina took them down the long winding path that led to the menagerie where there were a whole host of creatures she maintained. Most, wouldn't have survived if they hadn't have found her. He couldn't speak the same language they did but he could feel the atmosphere change when she crossed into the area. They were all suddenly very attentive. Curious. He was gladdened that they were also obedient or else more than one of them might have made him a meal. Or—A light snack. "I know that you want to see the rest of the galaxy, Horace. We've read about faraway places, but, you've never been away from the Well. You shouldn't be trapped here."
<<I'm not trapped at all. I have you. The Master. I—>>
"You are trapped...In a cage that I've built."
<<That's not true.>>
"It is."
Horace noted a resigned edge to her words. A sense of distant pain. Responsibility. He couldn't really understand all of it, though, to his credit, he tried. There was so much hidden in what she did not say that it was impossible at times to determine what was really running through her mind, unless, he tried to pry. He knew that she wanted what was best for him. As much as his birth had been a cross between a drive to experiment, mortals, playing with the tools of a god, she had always been reasonable in the aftermath. Honest. He respected that. His head turned around again, wrenching quickly, so much so that it almost looked painful. He could see her again. Blurry face. Distant. He hooted softly once more. This time, in confusion. Dismay. <<What are you thinking, mother? I cannot tell.>>
"I want you to leave the Well.", she began, though sensing his protest, immediately continued on. "Not forever."
He remained silent. Horace did not like where this was heading, though, he couldn't deny a thrill of excitement at the thought of what may await him. New places. New people. Experiences that would allow him to return, one day, and tell her a story versus it always being the other way around. Still...Leaving the Well. Did it mean leaving her?
Horace did not like that.
"I know of a man that could use your eyes. He is...Complicated. A friend, to me. I want you to go with him. Follow his lead and learn from him...", the Echani explained, briefly, before adding a careful note. It was important. He could feel her indecision. It seemed that she also struggled with the request she was making of him. Horace did not know why. "Moreover...I want you to protect him. Keep him safe."
She had heard rumors, whispers of things, that made it seem as if Voph could use a friend in the near future. Horace could be that, for him. In return—Voph could be the gateway that Horace needed to truly come into his own. Srina had taught him all that she could. At this point, she knew that she was only holding the Ninox back from his full potential. He felt beholden to her. He would never truly spread his wings unless she sent him away and gave him space to do so. "You must do this. For me."
<<Mother—>>
"You must, Horace. He can never know that I set you on this path. You must never say."
The winged Sithspawn took in the sight of his wintry creator, his mother, and the only family he had. She seemed so serious. As if she truly believed that his departure was for the best. Horace could not say that he agreed, and yet, he felt compelled to grant her request. Srina had never asked anything of him. Not once.
<<...This friend. You have so few. How will I know him? What is his name?>>
Her smile came slow, though, touched with a hint of blurry sadness. Part of her wished she could go with them. The blind miralukan had protected her, thoughtlessly, on Kuat. With no regard to his own safety. He had remained at her side when the father of her child had all but disappeared. Horace trusted her, implicitly, to be his guiding star.
The least she could do was give them each other.
"Lord Voph."
Horace didn't reply immediately. Instead, he grumped. <<That sounds like a prissy vegetable.>>
She laughed, genuinely, and the Ninox smirked internally. Victory was still his. Now, for this Lord Voph that was so important to his mother... It was time to do some research. He would find this man, protect him, and keep the secrets of the Exarch that sent him. He could do that, for her.
Perhaps just a little bit for himself, too.
