Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Approved Starship The Phantom Limb

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  • Intent: Adder’s starfighter.

  • Image Source: X

  • Canon Link: /

  • Restricted Missions: /

  • Primary Source: /

  • Manufacturer: Adder

  • Model: /

  • Affiliation: Adder

  • Production: Unique

  • Material: Fiberplast, Agrinium, Starship components

  • Classification: Starfighter

  • Length: 7 m

  • Width: 3 m

  • Height: 1.5 m

  • Armament: Average

    2x Laser cannons

  • 2x Proton torpedo launchers

Defenses: Very Low

Maneuverability Rating: Extreme

Speed Rating: Extreme

Hyperdrive Class: 1



  • Mosquito… in space. The fighter is extremely quick and agile not only thanks to its stripped-down construction and small size, but also due to the technology packed into the ship. With the help of the hyperspace capacitor, the Phantom Limb can execute extremely accurate and fast micro-jumps around a space theatre. The NHS, on the other hand, allows the skilled pilot to control the ship even at such high speeds, keeping them from crashing at the first turn.

  • Squish. Even more than the usual fighter, the Phantom Limb is nothing more than a fiery ball of metal waiting to happen. Of course… you’d have to catch it first.
Adder’s always had a good hand and a good eye for tech. As fate and history would have it, she eventually lost both – had to make do with cybernetic replacements. Only fitting, perhaps.

After spending most of her life wandering between the stars, Adder had found her port of call. Well, insomuch as she ever could. Settled down on Sulon and picked up her old job billions of light years away from where she’d first begun. Still, the ole’ rhythm was well-set into her bones, and her fingers still remembered how to tighten those cuffs.

For a while, this was enough. She’d never wanted much, and life in a peaceful dustbowl of a town was more than she could ever hope for. Maybe it was because it was a Force-forgotten stretch of desert on a moon that lingered in the shadows of its mother-planet; maybe that’s why trouble took that long to find her.


The Alliance had always waged war, and she’d been happy to help – when it led to the liberation of her home planet from the yoke of the One Sith. Another momentous day, then, when she’d celebrated along with the bruised and the bloody, smoke still clinging to their lungs.

But violence breeds violence. Where warmongers had fallen, cut where they stood, others rose in their place. Spreading like an infection from a wound that was never properly healed, the First Order began knocking on their door. That was it. The end of her peace. The end of her little stint in paradise, in the unlikely idyll of lazy afternoons and five crimes a year.

Oh, she resisted and yelled and ground her teeth. But as powerful as denial could be, Adder could never stare death in the eyes and look away.

So she bit the damn bullet.

She left the hydrospanner for the blaster;
the patio chair for the pilot’s seat;
the comfort of the core for the excitement of the frontlines.

She left all that for ideals, and beliefs, and principles. She left it because despite the knocks and regrets and years she’d never get back, Adder still fought for what was right.

And, well— alright, she left it for one damn fine ship.

The Phantom Limb, thus named in honorem of all the losses she’d suffered. And, not unintentionally, all the losses she’d make the oppressors suffer in turn. She didn’t build it to put the fear of good in the enemy with terrifying firepower; nor did she build it to withstand everything short of a Death Star blast; she didn’t build it to rule the space theater with sheer size, or strength, or being a Force-damned damage sink.

Adder crafted it, lovingly and attentively, to be the whisper on the solar wind. Or, if we cut the poetic bullshet, the annoying bug buzzing in your ear.

The resulting starfighter is, expectedly, small, packed to the brim, and agile as all hell. It runs fast in space and atmo, handles like a dream, and packs an appreciable punch for its small frame. It’s exactly what Adder needed going in.
Force willing, it’ll be what she’ll ride out, too.
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