Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Character Michael "Don't call me 'Michelangelo'!" Angellus

Yes, I AM my father's son, proud of it too.
VVVDHjr.png

Michael Angellus

Theme
Full Name
Michael Angellus​
Alias(es)
Michelangelo (I HATE THAT CALLSIGN!)​
Age
18 in Appearance
17 in Reality​
Character Class(es)
Jedi​
Homeworld
Naboo (Though born on Coruscant)​
Rank(s)
Padawan (I AM a Jedi, First and Foremost)
Flight Officer​
Faction(s)
Species
3/4 Human - 1/4 Shi'ido​
Language(s)
Galactic Basic, Huttese, Droidspeak​
Gender
male​
Force Sensitive
Yes​
Light​
Character Alignment
Lawful Good​
5'9​
Weight
175lbs.​
Hair
Dark Brown​
Eyes
Brown​
Playby
Tom Holland​
Color
Um, what?
Writer
Template Credit
VVVDHjr.png


  • GENERAL INFORMATION


    BACKGROUND SUMMARY

    Michael Angellus is the son of the late Admiral Liram Angellus, former Flag Officer of the Galactic Alliance 3rd Defense Fleet. He is a descendant of House Angellus, a Corellian-Naboo hybrid noble line of military strategists, starfighter tacticians, and planetary defenders whose service dates back to the First Hyperspace War. Through his bloodline, he is also the ninth-generation grandnephew of Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor, and cousin to Jedi Knight Connel Vanagor—each themselves storied warriors of Republic legend.

    Michael was admitted into consideration by virtue of both service lineage and exceptional aptitude reports filed during his provisional training deployments under Galactic Alliance supervision. His aptitude in flight command, spatial awareness, and quick-strike tactics outpaces cadets three years his senior.



    OFFICER'S OBSERVATION (POUIHL, R.):

    "He's not what I expected when I saw the name 'Angellus.' I expected posture, ceremony, perhaps entitlement. What I got was sincerity, raw intelligence, and a heart trying to outrun grief with purpose. He doesn't carry his father's legacy like a banner—he carries it like armor. And yet, despite that weight, he manages to laugh. To connect. To care."

    "He's a natural behind a flight stick. I observed one sim run where he led a wing of older cadets through an ambush, rerouted through a debris field, and executed a precise micro-jump out of danger. He apologized afterward for 'not making it cleaner.' I told him he just made five senior officers reconsider how they train their squadrons."

    "His time with the Jedi seems to temper him—but not suppress him. There's an emotional presence in him that most officers spend decades trying to suppress. Michael uses it. He's still learning how. But when he does, he won't need his name to open doors. His presence will do it."



    STRENGTHS:
    • Exceptional flight instincts and navigational reflexes
    • High emotional intelligence and empathy; command under pressure
    • Demonstrated aptitude for battlefield analysis and rapid threat assessment
    • Deep loyalty to his team and commanding officers
    • Clear influence from Jedi-style presence training and meditative control


    AREAS FOR DEVELOPMENT:
    • Struggles with internal pressure related to legacy and personal loss
    • Prone to self-doubt despite high performance
    • Force sensitivity is still raw—requires proper discipline and mentoring
    • Occasionally places others' safety above mission success


    RECOMMENDATION:
    Michael Angellus is strongly encouraged for cross-disciplinary commission eligibility
    , with potential to bridge the evolving dynamics between the Jedi Order of Shiraya and Naval Strategic Command. His ability to balance military tradition, emotional awareness, and emerging Force attunement makes him a candidate of rare caliber.


    The name "Angellus" earns him notice. His character will earn him loyalty.


    We should consider ourselves fortunate he's chosen to serve.


  • HISTORY
    Michael Angellus is a young man on the threshold of greatness—and ruin. Standing tall in both form and presence, his striking features tell the story of two heritages colliding: his father's commanding jawline, shaped by generations of soldiers and tacticians, and his mother's piercing blue eyes—windows to a soul far more emotionally aware than his years should allow. Every inch of him carries the echo of legacy, even when he doesn't want it to.

    Born on Naboo, raised in the quiet grief of his mother's estate after the brutal, very public execution of his father—Admiral Liram Angellus—Michael has known both privilege and pain in equal measure. His father was not merely a hero of the Galactic Alliance and a revered officer of the Silver Jedi Defense Force, but also a symbol of order, stability, and strategic genius. His loss sent ripples through star systems.

    But for Michael, it wasn't political—it was personal.

    He watched his father die, restrained by the very man he loved most in the galaxy. That moment, seared into his memory, became a fault line in his soul. Liram's final act was to save his son at the cost of his own life, and Michael has lived with that weight every day since. His dreams often return to that final look his father gave him—not of fear, but of certainty. A message he hasn't yet fully decoded.



    Force Sensitivity & Dual Lineage

    The Force revealed itself in Michael during his adolescence, as if stirred awake by tragedy. But it wasn't an inheritance he immediately welcomed. It frightened him, challenged him. And worse, it tied him to another towering legacy—Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor, his great-great ancestor, and to Jedi Knight Connel Vanagor, his cousin, both legendary in their own right.

    With only the barest instruction in Force techniques—enhanced speed and leaping from Caltin's lessons—Michael was thrust into a storm. Just days after his father's death, he was brought to the Order of Shiraya, placed among students far more prepared, more focused, more accepted. He wasn't trained—he was expected to adapt. What he received wasn't nurturing. It was isolation.

    And he endured.

    He passed the trials they didn't think he'd survive—not with brilliance, but with tenacity. With instinct. And with pain.



    Struggles at Shiraya

    Matched with one who turned out to be the wrong Master, a noble Jedi with his own burdens, Michael struggled to find his footing. Their communication faltered. Michael, driven by trauma and a desperate need for belonging, saw wisdom as condescension and guidance as reprimand. His wounds hadn't closed—and no one, it seemed, could see that.

    He didn't want lectures.
    He wanted confidence.
    He wanted to stop being afraid.
    He wanted to belong.

    So, in a moment of reckless hope, he forged his age and entered the Naval Academy under a false identity—not to escape the Jedi, but to remind himself that he could succeed at something. That somewhere, somehow, he could build confidence brick by brick. What he found there was surprising: respect from officers like Captain Rojuhr Pouihl, encouragement from veterans who had known his father, and—perhaps most importantly—space to grow without judgment.



    Character Strengths and Identity

    Despite limited formal training, Michael is already a natural pilot—his instincts in the cockpit reflect not just bloodline, but lived understanding of cause and effect, fear and focus. His mind is tuned to battlefield adaptation and his heart, though scarred, is unshakably loyal to those who earn his trust.

    He is emotional—but never unstable. His emotions drive his compassion, his empathy, and his desire to protect others the way no one could protect his father. He is driven not by revenge, but by the haunting need to prove that his father's death meant something.

    He is not a perfect student.
    He is not the most powerful Padawan.
    But he is something rarer: a soul forged in grief, walking willingly toward the light.



    Quote (at age 17)
    "They keep calling me a Vanagor. A legacy. A name.
    But I'm not any of that.
    I'm just the son of a man who died to save me.
    And all I want…
    is to be the kind of person he wouldn't have to."

  • APPEARANCE

    Michael Angellus isn't the kind of person who turns heads when he enters a room—and that's exactly how he likes it. Average in height, lean in frame, he moves with the kind of effortless balance that goes unnoticed until it matters. He's athletic without trying to be, fast without fanfare, built more for movement than intimidation. He's not the biggest, not the strongest—but he's rarely where you expect him to be.

    He can slip through a crowd like a ghost, pass unnoticed through checkpoints, alleyways, or a hangar full of officers. It's not stealth in the traditional sense—it's presence control. He knows how to make people look away. Or look right at him. Whichever he needs.

    And part of that? It's not just training or instinct. It's blood.

    Michael is part Shi'do, descended from a lineage so rare and enigmatic that even he doesn't fully understand what it means. He's not a full-blooded shapeshifter—his abilities are subtle, unpredictable, but undeniably there. Facial structure, posture, even skin tone—he can shift them just enough to make a difference. Just enough to be forgotten, or recalled as someone entirely different.


    But he doesn't use it to deceive. He uses it to survive. To move unseen when necessary. To build privacy in a world that keeps asking him to be someone else.


    His natural eyesight is exceptional—sharp enough to spot wing positions in a mid-atmospheric dive or a subtle twitch in an opponent's stance. Combined with his love of flying, it gives him an edge most don't see until it's too late.


    He's a kid, yes. Still seventeen. Still figuring it all out. But behind the casual posture and quiet demeanor is someone built for adaptability, wired for escape, and—whether he knows it or not—evolving into something no databank can predict.


  • PERSONALITY

    Connel Vanagor wasn't the only one to train under Jedi Master Caltin Vanagor. Though not to the same intensity or structure, Michael was a part of that quiet mentorship as well. Taught in the soft shadows of Caltin's home—less academy, more refuge—Michael learned to trust his instincts, to move with his environment, not against it.


    He may not have a lightsaber, but he knows how to move. He's quick—blindingly so—and he's growing stronger with Force-assisted jumps and controlled telekinetic pulls, often summoning gear, tools, or weapons to hand before others even reach for theirs. There's finesse in him. Precision, not flash.


    But not everyone encourages the path he's walking.


    His mother, Alyksandra, sees another future entirely. A former holofilm actress with a sharp wit and a deep well of love for her son, she doesn't want to see Michael vanish into the thankless, ascetic grind of Jedi life. She wants more for him—choice, freedom, and maybe even a life of joy and spotlight like she once had.


    "You don't have to be another statue in a temple, baby. You could be happy. You could be a star. In a galaxy this wide, why choose a path where they'll always want more from you than you can give?"

    Michael hears her. Respects her. Honors her love by not dismissing it. He plays along, for now—because deep down, he understands what she gave up to raise him alone.


    But in truth? Michael doesn't dream of red carpets or lenses. He dreams of sky. Of cockpit glass, flashing stars, and the split-second clarity of evasive maneuvers. He was made to fly, and the stars seem to know his name.


    By age sixteen, he was already checked out on a variety of ships—shuttles, starfighters, recon skiffs, mid-class freighters. Flight instructors say he doesn't fly like a cadet—he flies like someone who's always known where he belongs.

    The problem is that right now, he doesn't feel that way in the Order of Shiraya, it feels like they don't want him (right or wrong). At seventeen, surrounded by older Padawans and colder Masters, Michael feels more like a name on a roster than a person being guided. No one has pulled him aside. No one has said, "You matter here." No mentor has looked him in the eye and told him he's seen.


    So Michael made a decision.


    If no one will build him up, he'll build himself.


    If no one offers him confidence, he'll go out and earn it.


    And if the Order won't help him find his place…
    ...he'll make one on his own terms.


    STRENGTHS & WEAKNESSES

    STRENGTHS
    • 1. Tactical Instinct & Strategic Adaptability

      In his blood, but earned through experience.

      • Natural combat awareness: Michael doesn't just react—he anticipates. Whether in a cockpit or in the field, he reads unfolding events like a tactician several years his senior. It's not just inherited from Admiral Liram Angellus—it's honed through survival, trauma, and watching people he cared about make split-second life-and-death decisions.
      • Improvisational thinking: He doesn't rely on rehearsed solutions. Whether building a makeshift sled to drag a wounded cadet or redirecting a squad through a collapsing trail, he thrives under pressure and uncertainty.
      • Rapid course correction: Michael rarely makes the same mistake twice. He learns while moving and has no fear of changing tactics when needed.
    • ✨2. Force Potential: Emerging, Adaptive, and Sensitive

      Raw but deep, rooted in compassion.

      • Enhanced reflexes & short-burst speed: Already proficient in Force-assisted speed and jumping thanks to early training with Caltin. These abilities help him close gaps, dodge strikes, or reach a vantage no one else can.
      • Telekinetic accuracy: Though not flashy, he's quietly becoming precise—able to pull tools, weapons, or even support structures to himself with growing control.
      • Emotional resonance in the Force: He may not consciously manipulate others through the Force, but he feels them with startling clarity—especially fear, intent, and pain. This emotional presence will eventually translate into battlefield empathy and enhanced precognition.
      • Force sensitivity tied to instinct, not doctrine: His Force presence reacts to his heart first. This will eventually make him incredibly effective in field rescue, recon, and diplomacy—if he learns to master it.
    • 3. Pilot & Fieldcraft Excellence

      Where he feels most at home—in the air or in survival mode.

      • Natural pilot: Able to fly nearly any small-to-mid-class ship by age 16, and showing combat-level capability in simulators and real-world drills. His spatial awareness is elite.
      • Unshakable under pressure: In the cockpit, he doesn't panic. Ever. His brain slows down under threat, a rare trait.
      • Wilderness survival instinct: His experience in Lianora proved he can navigate, endure, and lead in field conditions far beyond his official training. He's not polished—he's resilient.
    • 4. Emotional Intelligence & Loyalty

      The beating heart beneath the tactics.

      • Empathic awareness: Michael has a rare gift for reading people—not through trickery or subtle Force manipulation, but through observation and deep intuition. He often knows what someone needs to hear even if he doesn't always know what to say.
      • Protective at his core: He doesn't walk away. Even when others do. Even when it would help him advance. That makes him a natural leader in moments that truly count.
      • Carries pain, but does not weaponize it: His grief doesn't twist him. It anchors him. He is haunted, yes—but he uses it to empathize with the pain of others, not hide from it.
    • 5. Identity-Based Strengths

      Born from legacy—but self-shaped.

      • Part Shi'do heritage: Subtle shape-shifting grants him the ability to pass unnoticed or subtly change facial structure and posture. It's not overt, but it gives him the upper hand in infiltration, escape, and psychological misdirection.
      • Balanced humility: He doesn't seek power or spotlight. But he also doesn't shrink from responsibility when it finds him.
      • Legacy-forged resolve: Between Liram's sacrifice and Caltin's quiet faith, Michael's drive to earn his place isn't fueled by ego—it's fueled by meaning. He doesn't want to become his father or his ancestors—he wants to be worthy of their belief in him.
    • Signature Strength

      The Strength to Stand When Others Walk Away
      Michael's defining trait is his presence in the critical moment. Whether it's rescuing a wounded cadet, taking a lower score to do the right thing, or facing a trial not to pass it—but to face himself—he chooses conviction over convenience. He doesn't move first, but when he does—it's the kind of movement others rally around.
    WEAKNESSES
    • 1. Grief-Fueled Identity Crisis
      "Am I becoming who I am… or just who I think I have to be?"
      • Michael is still haunted by the image of his father's execution, a wound that's never fully closed. That trauma is layered with guilt: he didn't act, even though he wanted to.
      • This grief drives him to prove himself—but it also clouds his sense of self. Is he honoring Liram… or trying to replace him?
      • As a result, he defines himself through others far too often—through legacy, expectation, or perceived debt—rather than embracing who he is becoming.
    • 2. Lack of Formal Jedi Foundation
      Power without understanding is like flying without a navcomputer—dangerous and directionless.
      • Despite his talent, Michael's Force training is patchy at best—mostly learned through instinct, Caltin's early guidance, and survival situations.
      • His emotional resonance with the Force is powerful… but unrefined. In high-stress moments, it can overwhelm him, muddy his clarity, or even paralyze him with empathy.
      • He lacks meditation discipline, and struggles with advanced techniques like mind shielding, Force healing, or energy absorption.
    • 3. Emotional Impulsiveness
      "If someone's in danger, I don't think. I move."
      • Michael leads with his heart. While this makes him loyal and selfless, it also makes him reactive.
      • He sometimes places others' well-being above his own safety or mission objectives. In a crisis, he'll risk everything to protect someone else—even if it means failing the objective.
      • His empathy can cloud judgment: he might trust the wrong person, hesitate at a critical moment, or second-guess orders if they feel cold or detached.
    • 4. Deep-Seated Insecurity
      "They see the name. The bloodline. But they don't see me."
      • Beneath his growing strength lies a boy who still feels like an outsider in the Order of Shiraya.
      • He hasn't been claimed or chosen until recently, and that lack of early mentorship left him emotionally adrift.
      • He fears he's not "Jedi enough," not "worthy enough" of the Angellus name, not "strong enough" to deserve Caltin's attention.
      • That insecurity sometimes manifests as sarcasm, self-isolation, or hesitation at key moments.
    • 5. Unstable Shi'do Inheritance
      "I can change… but not enough to belong to either world."
      • His partial Shi'do lineage gives him minor shape-shifting ability—but it's untrained and instinctual.
      • He cannot always control it under duress—facial structure may shift slightly during moments of extreme emotion or fear, which unsettles others and embarrasses him.
      • This subtle mutation sometimes feeds his insecurity: he feels not quite human, not quite Jedi, and not quite stable.
    • ⚠️6. Fear of Becoming a Symbol
      "What if the only reason I matter… is because they expect me to?"
      • Michael dreads being elevated as the next Vanagor, or the last Angellus, or a child of prophecy. He doesn't want to become another statue in a temple.
      • Ironically, this fear makes him push back against leadership, praise, or the spotlight—even when he's earned it.
      • He'll sabotage himself at times just to remain "real" in his own eyes.
    • The Core Weakness
      Michael is strongest for others—but weakest for himself.
      He'll throw himself into fire to protect someone else…
      …but when he's hurting?
      He suffers in silence.


  • NOTABLE SKILLS

    Forcestun.png
    NATURAL ACE PILOT
    527463.png
    CEREBRAL
    Melee.trainingsaber.a01_v01.png
    NIMBLE
    527325.png
    TECHY

    *Skill/Ability Icons can be found HERE


  • EQUIPMENT

    X-wing
    Lightsaber
    His Father's Flightsuit
    Astromech Droid "BRED"


  • STORY ARCS
    INDEX

  • ROYAL NABOO REPUBLIC
    Name
    Description
    Caltin Vanagor Caltin Vanagor Great(x9)uncle
    Connel Vanagor Connel Vanagor Cousin
    Ala Quin Ala Quin Distant "Aunt"/ Master
    Jax Thio Jax Thio Distant Cousin
    Joran Del-Finn Joran Del-Finn Distant Cousin

    FAMILY
    Name
    Description
    Kahne Porte Kahne Porte Former Master
    PLACEHOLDER PLACEHOLDER
    PLACEHOLDER PLACEHOLDER
    PLACEHOLDER PLACEHOLDER

 
Last edited:
Yes, I AM my father's son, proud of it too.
First Simulation at the Academy:

SCENE: "Falling Into Flight"


Location: Royal Naboo Republic Naval Academy – Simulator Wing, Sector V-9


INT. SIMULATION POD – NIGHT CYCLE


The simulator cockpit hums with quiet power. Panels flicker to life, casting dim blue light on Michael Angellus' tense expression. His helmet rests beside him—untouched. He prefers to feel the vibrations of the controls, the cold of the durasteel under his fingertips. He needs it to feel real.


The pod hatches seal shut.


COMPUTER VOICE


"Initiate scenario: Zivath Ambush, Outer Rim Campaign. Difficulty: Tactical Tier Five.
Unscouted asteroid field. Two squadrons down. Command fallen.
Objective: Survive. Regroup. Extract."

MICHAEL
(quietly to himself)
"No one's coming to save you."


His eyes flash—not in fear, but in focus. Hands on the yoke, he pushes the thrusters into a cold start override. The pod shakes as the simulation begins. Stars streak across his vision—then debris. Ships burning. Screams over comms.


He doesn't flinch.


Instead, his voice is calm, clipped—channeling his father's tone from every battle log he's ever studied.


MICHAEL (IN SIM)


"Delta Flight—form on me. Bravo, screen wide and drop chaff on my mark."

The squadron AI responds, sluggish and confused. He adapts.


The asteroids are dense, scattered like broken bones. Michael threads between them at impossible angles, scraping heat levels just shy of redline. One AI wingmate clips a rock and spirals. He doesn't scream. He breathes.


Flash.


A memory rips through him—his father, surrounded, unarmed... falling.
Michael almost chokes—but he growls it back down, gripping the yoke tighter.


MICHAEL (TO HIMSELF)


"I see it before it happens... I always see it. Don't stop. Don't freeze."

Missiles lock. Shields blink red. He jerks the yoke, spiraling into the shadow of a drifting hulk. Missile impacts detonate nearby, shaking the pod violently—but he's alive.


One breath. Then two. He banks the fighter hard left—luring his pursuers straight into the magnetic tail of a plasma drift.


COMPUTER VOICE


"Three hostiles destroyed.
Squadron recovered.
Command reinstated.
Extraction route cleared."

Silence.


The pod lights flicker out. His hands finally release the controls, twitching slightly.


INT. SIM BAY – MOMENTS LATER


The pod hisses open, releasing steam as Michael steps out, dripping sweat, jaw clenched. A small group of instructors in the shadows exchange quiet glances. They don't know he's seventeen. They don't know he's grieving. They only know what they saw.


A performance well beyond his rank. No flash. No ego. Just grit and clarity.


Captain Rojuhr Pouihl watches from above in the mezzanine, arms folded, expression unreadable. He doesn't speak to Michael. He simply taps a datapad and leaves two words in the file.


"Reassess placement."

Michael doesn't wait for approval. He walks alone through the corridor, chest rising and falling. Just for a moment, he feels something close to confidence. Not because he won. But because he didn't break.

SCENE: "Reassess Placement"

INT. ACADEMY HANGAR – REAR WALKWAY – LATE NIGHT

The air in the hangar is still, dim, and humming only with the distant whine of repulsorlifts being calibrated by overnight tech crews. Michael Angellus, still dressed in his sim-flight gear, walks in near-silence down the access corridor, heading toward the barracks. His body is tired, but his mind is louder than ever.

Behind him, a calm, gravel-edged voice breaks the air.

ROJUHR POUILH

"You're two years under clearance for that simulation."
Michael stops in place.

Doesn't turn.

Takes a breath.

Then—

MICHAEL

"Three, actually."
ROJUHR
(approaching, slow)

"You're either very desperate… or very sure of yourself."
MICHAEL
(quiet, but unflinching)

"I had to know if I could make it. Not just talk like I could."
Rojuhr stops beside him, hands behind his back, studying him out of the corner of one eye. There's no accusation in his tone—just something measured, like an engineer gauging a reactor's output.

ROJUHR

"You fought that sim like someone who's been in real combat. But your posture walking out of the pod says you're still not convinced it mattered."
MICHAEL
(shrugging)

"It doesn't. Not yet. It was a simulation. My father flew real battles."
Rojuhr doesn't reply at first. He walks to the nearest control panel, casually pulls up Michael's performance metrics on a private holopad.

ROJUHR

"So did I. And I've seen plenty of pilots with years under their belts crumble in that same test. You? You kept your voice steady, made decisive calls, and stayed two seconds ahead of the fight."
He lets that sit before continuing.

"That's not instinct. That's presence. And you either have it, or you don't."
Michael finally looks up at him—genuine curiosity breaking through the guarded layers.

MICHAEL

"And you think I have it?"
Rojuhr locks eyes with him—sharp, quiet.

ROJUHR

"I think you're still chasing your father's ghost, hoping if you fly fast enough, you'll catch up to it."
(beat)
"But your father wasn't a ghost. He was a man. One who believed in something enough to die for it."
"You? You're still deciding what you believe in."
Michael lowers his gaze, jaw tight, fists clenched at his sides.

MICHAEL

"I just… don't want to be afraid anymore. Not in a fight. Not in the Force. Not of being… not enough."
Rojuhr steps in closer now, voice lower.

ROJUHR

"Good. Hold onto that honesty. Most cadets fake bravery until it kills them."
He pulls a small card chip from his pocket and hands it to Michael.

"This is a slot for tactical theory trials. You're not technically eligible. But I've overridden the lock."
Michael takes it slowly, processing.

MICHAEL

"...Why?"
Rojuhr begins walking away before answering, voice calm but resolute:

ROJUHR

"Because you didn't come here to be your father.
You came here to prove that someone like you—a kid with pain in his bones and fire in his chest—deserves the right to fly his own damn path."
He stops at the exit door.

"Make it count, Angellus."
The door hisses open and closes behind him, leaving Michael standing alone in the corridor, the chip in his hand glowing faint blue. For the first time in a long while...

...he doesn't feel like an intruder.

He feels like a pilot.


SCENE: "Nightwatch"

Location: Cadet Barracks – Room 214, Royal Naboo Naval Academy

INT. PRIVATE QUARTERS – MIDNIGHT

The lights are low—just a sliver of soft starlight leaking through the duraglass viewport above Michael's bunk. The stars over Naboo look almost too peaceful. Michael Angellus sits alone on the edge of his bunk, flight jacket half-zipped, boots still on, his fingers running along the smooth edge of a small holo-recorder.

It's an old device, well-used. There's a faded insignia etched into the corner: "ANGELLUS // GA-STRIKECOM // VOX-II"

Michael hesitates… then activates it.

A faint beep, and a projection flickers to life—blue, unstable. It shows Admiral Liram Angellus in a private command cabin, arms folded behind his back, eyes forward. Not giving a speech. Not commanding. Just… talking.

LIRAM (HOLORECORDING)

"Mission log… supplemental. Not for the Council. Not for command. Just… for you, if you're listening."
Michael's breath catches. He's heard this one before. But not tonight. Tonight it feels different.

LIRAM (HOLORECORDING)

"I don't know what kind of man you'll become, Michael. I hope I get to see it. But if I don't…"
(he sighs—less like a soldier, more like a father)
"…you'll have questions. About me. About who I was. And whether any of it mattered."
Michael leans forward, elbows on knees, eyes never leaving the flickering figure.

LIRAM (HOLORECORDING)

"I wasn't a perfect man. I made decisions that haunted me. But I made them so you wouldn't have to."
"War teaches you the value of silence. The weight of command. And the price of hesitation."
(he looks down for a beat)
"If you ever feel like you're not enough… that you're just pretending to be strong—don't.
You're already stronger than I ever was."
Michael's jaw tightens.

LIRAM (HOLORECORDING)

"Being a pilot, a soldier, a Jedi… none of that defines you.
What defines you is the moment you stand when no one else will. When you reach for the controls. When you speak up.
When you choose to be better than you were the day before."
"And knowing you… even if I'm gone...
You'll make the right choice. You always do."
The recording ends.

Michael doesn't move. For a full minute, the room is silent but for the soft hum of the station. His hand slowly closes around the holo-recorder.

Then, in a whisper—no one to hear but the stars:

MICHAEL

"…I'm trying, Dad."
He lays back on the bunk, staring through the viewport at the stars above. He doesn't cry.

But he does sleep. For the first time in days…

...without fear.
 
Yes, I AM my father's son, proud of it too.
The Weekend pass that got him into The Wild Calls [RNR]

INT. MESS HALL – ROYAL NABOO NAVAL ACADEMY – DAY


The low hum of cadets at lunch creates a steady murmur. Michael sits alone at the far end of a long table, stirring the same ration tray he's barely touched for the last hour. A ping echoes from his datapad.


He checks it. A message flashes from the Academy administration channel:




[WEEKEND RELEASE GRANTED]
Cadet Angellus,
Message sent by Order of Shiraya regarding that survival exercise will be held this weekend in Lianora Forest under the guidance of Jedi Master Abel Denko. Participation is voluntary for Force-adepts and tactical candidates.
Duration: 48 hours
Equipment: Pack-limited loadout
Objective: Navigation, resource gathering, camp defense, observation tactics
No evaluation grades assigned. This is a test of self.



Michael stares at the words: A test of self.


He locks his datapad and stands. No words. No announcement. But in his chest, something sharp flickers to life.


He knows where Lianora is. Old forest. Untamed. Beautiful. Brutal. Not simulated. Not staged. This isn't about placating instructors or proving himself to ghosts.


This is the proving ground he's been looking for.




EXT. LIANORA FOREST – DAY ONE


Naboo's western wilds, far from the cities and starports, are thick with mist and ancient trees. Towering canopies stretch overhead, filtering golden sunlight into shifting patterns across the forest floor. The air smells of moss, spice-root, and deep earth.


Michael steps off the small shuttle transport with a group of mixed cadets and junior Jedi initiates. Most are older. Some whisper. Some scoff at the sight of Angellus—rumors always swirl faster than facts.


He pays them no mind.


He wears light tactical gear, not standard Jedi robes. A small pack, a vibroknife strapped to his thigh, a short stun baton. No lightsaber. Not yet.


He closes his eyes and listens.


Not with the Force.


With everything else.


The wind. The flutter of wings overhead. The crackle of underbrush somewhere nearby. A predator's snarl—not too close. The bubbling of a creek off to the east. The hum of insect wings. The world lives.


MICHAEL (INTERNAL)


"No simulations. No do-overs. If I mess this up... I bleed for real."
(beat)
"Good."
 

Users who are viewing this thread

Top Bottom