Cultivating Tubors
- Thread starter Spud
- Start date
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2015
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Jack Fisher
NAME: Jack Fisher (Born Silas Kylak)
ALIAS/NICKNAMES: “Pazaak Jack” & “Sabacc Jack” for his unprecedented luck and skill in the two games, not-necessarily through legal practices. “The Fisher” was Jack’s old gang nickname, and the reason he took Fisher as a surname, due to his pocket picking and hacking expertise. In some circles he’s known simply as “The Runner”, partially due to his preference for flight rather than fight and partially due to his smuggling/transporting efficiency.
FACTION: Indie
RANK: N/A
SPECIES: Human
AGE: 25
GENDER: Male
PHYSIQUE Standing at an average 5’10” (177.8 cm) and weighing in at a slim but healthy 142.06 lbs (64.44 kg), minus the prosthetic arm, Jack is a good example of what a healthy man is supposed to look like. He’s well toned, but not all that "cut", and has your average runner’s “build”. With his replacement right arm, which is primarily made from super-lightweight materials, Jack’s weight comes to a total of 158.5 lbs (71.89 kg).
EYES: Jack has your basic hooded almond eye shape. His right iris is a vibrant green while his left is usually a pale blue. I say usually because his left eye is a cybernetic replacement and the iris color can be “tuned” to Jack’s liking.
HAIR: Jack’s hair is a shade of medium-brown and is of a medium length, for the average man at least. If he let it hang loose it would hang an inch or so below the ears on the sides/back and cover his eyes in the bang area. However for style, and practicality, Jack likes to keep his hair combed back as often as possible.
SKIN: Jack is a fairly pale man. It’s not that he doesn’t tan or doesn’t like being out in the daytime but most of his “work” takes place inside, at night, or at spaceports/stations.
CREDITS: Noob’s 1000.
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Jack has a few tattoos from his gang days, which he typically keeps hidden. Apart from that Jacks only real discerning features are his cybernetics. The full right arm, the left eye (if used as flashlight or with different iris color), and the dataport/antenna for said eye at his right temple (providing he doesn’t have it hidden via synthflesh plug).
FORCE SENSITIVE: Nein
Jack’s physical strength is pretty much average for the standard light framed physically fit human. The only advantage strength wise is his prosthetic right arm, which on its own is very strong. Any punch he throws with it is going to hurt quite a bit, and his grip may potentially shatter bone, though it’s usually kept under a limiter to prevent accidental damage.
The rhyme “Jack be nimble, Jack be quick...” comes to mind when discussing Jack’s level of dexterity. When compared to the average human Jack’s reaction speed, hand eye coordination, and general agility nearly tops the charts. As a scrawny kid growing up on gang ridden streets you either learn to fight or run, and Jack learned the latter. While he isn’t exactly “graceful” Jack certainly knows how to get around (#parkour) and is a very slippery prey to catch.
Jack’s physical constitution is hardly worth mentioning, it’s not terrible but it’s not good either, nor is his mental fortitude. He can deal with your basic intimidation tactics fairly well but would break fairly easily with torture. He puts emphasis on the flight portion of the old fight or flight adage and a motto of his is “When in doubt, get the hell out.”
Depending on what you’re talking about Jack could be considered a savant, a complete moron, and anything inbetween. He practically eats, sleeps, and breathes tech. Jack designed and fabricated all of his cybernetics and even upgraded a junked medical droid to perform the necessary surgeries. Practically every piece of tech in his possession is modified, he has a rather good sense for business, and cracking/building code is second nature to him.
Jack is also rather adept at reading the “tells” of most individuals, which helps with his gambling habits, and is a magnificent pilot once he gets used to the craft. The moron portion comes into play when you start discussing more basic things. He’s a terrible cook, wouldn’t last long in the wilderness, isn’t exactly a “history buff”, and certainly doesn’t belong on a battlefield. Apart from that he’s more along the lines of your average man.
Jack is also rather adept at reading the “tells” of most individuals, which helps with his gambling habits, and is a magnificent pilot once he gets used to the craft. The moron portion comes into play when you start discussing more basic things. He’s a terrible cook, wouldn’t last long in the wilderness, isn’t exactly a “history buff”, and certainly doesn’t belong on a battlefield. Apart from that he’s more along the lines of your average man.
Like his intelligence Jack’s wisdom is very select. His common sense is very well developed, as is his “street smarts”, but Jack is hardly the man to talk to if you want to discuss philosophy or emotional issues.
Jack can be a rather convincing liar and a very suave businessman but he lacks any sort of prowess in the intimidation or inspiration lines of charismatic influence. He’s also “romantically challenged”, meaning Jack doesn’t really know how to be romantically charming and tends to get a bit flustered when people flirt with him. Overall he’s a polite young man that knows how to play the innocent “lost puppy” routine a little too well.
PERSONALITY:
Jack is a very nonchalant young man who simply likes to enjoy life as he sees fit, that being the life of a nomadic “entrepreneur” selling modified tech, transporting various “goods”, and doing a bit of casual gambling on the side. He doesn’t get bothered with politics and simply lives the way he feels like it, regardless of how “legal” his actions may be considered.
Slicing, perusing the dark web, and tinkering with various forms of tech are favored pastimes of his. As is exploring various cityscapes to an extent. Living life as a ghost allows for a lot of leeway with how he spends his free time. Perhaps forge some civilian credentials and have some fun at a core world cantina, maybe head to Hutt space and see what kind of experimental tech he can dig up on Nar Shaddaa. Whatever fancys him in the moment.
As a result of growing up a gang manipulated kid Jack is a very morally neutral man. Basically the only good values of his are “be polite” and “never harm your family”, or rather whatever counts as family. Apart from that everything else is fair game, though personally he doesn’t like to cause harm to anyone that hasn’t done anything to deserve it in his eyes. If someone else chooses to do so then that’s their choice, but he’d rather not be a part of it. Not that he’s incapable of doing so when necessity rears its ugly head.
Slicing, perusing the dark web, and tinkering with various forms of tech are favored pastimes of his. As is exploring various cityscapes to an extent. Living life as a ghost allows for a lot of leeway with how he spends his free time. Perhaps forge some civilian credentials and have some fun at a core world cantina, maybe head to Hutt space and see what kind of experimental tech he can dig up on Nar Shaddaa. Whatever fancys him in the moment.
As a result of growing up a gang manipulated kid Jack is a very morally neutral man. Basically the only good values of his are “be polite” and “never harm your family”, or rather whatever counts as family. Apart from that everything else is fair game, though personally he doesn’t like to cause harm to anyone that hasn’t done anything to deserve it in his eyes. If someone else chooses to do so then that’s their choice, but he’d rather not be a part of it. Not that he’s incapable of doing so when necessity rears its ugly head.
The birth record for one Silas Kylak only goes so far as his first few days out of the hospital he was born in, he has been missing ever since. Though truthfully he was abandoned by his mother at an orphanage. The abandoned child donned “Jack” by the orphanage staff disappeared at the age of eight, presumably a run away. From there he fell into work for one of the many small gangs on Fondor and became Jack Fisher until his complete disappearance some years later.
The man scarcely known as Jack Fisher is a digital ghost. The name Jack Fisher is known only to some individuals of the dark web conglomerate self dubbed VoidNET and a select few that belonged to a small gang on Fondor thirteen to seventeen years ago. He has little to no records beyond the list of non-violent crimes belonging to the various false identities he creates, of which only some can be linked to a freelance smuggler/slicer known simply as “Runner”.
It is possible to seek out “Runner” directly for services by tagging dark web postings with <{Run¦ER}> but in all likelihood he will be the one to contact whomever is searching for someone to handle discrete nonviolent services.
The man scarcely known as Jack Fisher is a digital ghost. The name Jack Fisher is known only to some individuals of the dark web conglomerate self dubbed VoidNET and a select few that belonged to a small gang on Fondor thirteen to seventeen years ago. He has little to no records beyond the list of non-violent crimes belonging to the various false identities he creates, of which only some can be linked to a freelance smuggler/slicer known simply as “Runner”.
It is possible to seek out “Runner” directly for services by tagging dark web postings with <{Run¦ER}> but in all likelihood he will be the one to contact whomever is searching for someone to handle discrete nonviolent services.
BIOGRAPHY:
- Born Silas Kylak but abandoned nameless at an orphanage right out of the hospital.
- Lived eight years at said orphanage before his curiosity got the best of him, resulting in a runaway Jack.
- Was “recruited” by a small local gang and manipulated as a street rat.
- An accident while tinkering with tech results in the loss of Jack’s left eye, and the discovery of his untapped potential.
- Local gang trained Jack with their best techs, though he quickly surpasses them.
- Jack’s actions on the net caught the attention of a relatively small dark web conglomerate/gang of slicers/coders known by few as “VoidNET”.
- VoidNET abducted Jack, freeing him from the manipulation of his original gang, and brought him to Nar Shaddaa to start life anew.
- VoidNET taught Jack everything he needed to know to survive as a ghost of the net and gave him the resources to create a cybernetic eye replacement.
- Jack went on to live a free and casual life as a smuggler/techie, with some profitable gambling habits in tow.
- Right arm incinerated in a backroom Sabacc match gone awry. Also time of first kill.
- Built a replacement right arm and went back to his casual lifestyle.
- Current time...
Jack, or Silas if you want to go by birth name, never knew his parents. His father died nine months before he was born and his mother abandoned him outside of an orphanage as soon as she could leave the hospital. For eight years a Fondor orphanage was all Jack knew. It was the place where all of his memories originated, it was the only place he knew anyone, and it was the only thing standing between him and the galaxy outside. The abuses he and the other children suffered went unnoticed by him, for Jack it was simply normal. A life of quiet submission trying not to burden their caretakers.
What little he learned there simply couldn’t satisfy him, and he had taken to tinkering with anything he could get his hands on rather than being content simply waiting around for the hope of adoption. Eventually Jack’s curiosity got the best of him, and he fashioned a lockpick to break out to see the outside world. It fascinated him, it terrified him, it may have almost killed him, he doesn’t exactly remember it too clearly nowadays. The experience was so exhilarating Jack simply had to do it again, and again, and again, until one day he simply never went back to that dismal place he had called a “home” for his entire life.
Life on the streets was vibrant and entertaining. He was free to tinker with whatever he could get his hands on, so long as he wasn’t caught, and there was never a dull moment. Of course they were also very dangerous and misleading, a lesson Jack would soon learn. Jack fell in with the wrong crowd, well, wrong is a matter of perspective. To Jack those that took him in and showed him kindness were far better than the caretakers at the orphanage, even if they were actually recruiting themselves a new mule to manipulate as they pleased.
As one would expect the life of a gang manipulated street rat was very dirty and very dangerous. Jack was taught how to survive on the streets, where not to go, when not to be seen, who to avoid, and everything that was involved with “hood life”. In exchange he was tasked with delivering various “packages” to various places and various individuals, using his small size to sneak around where adults couldn’t, and to play the scared homeless kid that pickpocketed marks (Where “Fisher” came from).
As his “handlers” gradually realized Jacks usefulness they began to give him more dangerous “jobs”, and as added incentive they began to reward him with bits of old tech to tinker with to his heart’s content. A cheap way to keep the kid occupied when they didn’t have a use for him, little did they expect him to wire what they gave him into a makeshift “arm” of sorts, or for that arm to burn out, explode, and imbed a piece of metal in Jack’s left eye. While he lost his eye his handlers finally found out just how special of a kid they had, gathering their best underground techies to teach Jack.
He was their little savant, a boy wonder that surpassed the expectations of every skilled engineer, slicer, and coder they had, and the ticket to their big payday. It didn’t take long before tutors became obsolete, with access to the dark web Jack was teaching himself faster than they could ever hope to do so, though this didn’t go unnoticed by certain individuals that lurked behind the darkness. While his current gang was happy using Jack to get what they wanted and simply keeping the kid content with salvaged tech another group of individuals saw a “brother in code” held captive by those that lacked “the gift”.
A small conglomerate of master coders and slicers known remotely as VoidNET began to systematically disrupt the efforts of Jack’s captors, throwing their gang into turmoil and snatching Jack up for themselves, or freeing him from their perspective. They smuggled Jack from Fondor, taking him far from the colony worlds, far from the Inner Rim, and bringing him to their base of operations on Nar Shaddaa. Jack’s life would begin anew.
Unlike his old gang the members of VoidNET actually cared for Jack. They nurtured him, taught him how to become a ghost of the net, and gave him the resources for him to fashion a cybernetic eye to replace the one he lost. On top of that they didn’t ask anything in return, only that he never use his gifts to do harm to other members of VoidNET. He was part of their family, a truly free man capable of doing just about anything he desired.
So what did Jack do with his newfound freedom you ask? Well, as he blossomed into a young man Jack found himself enjoying the life of a nomadic businessman (*cough* Smuggler *cough*), occasionally aiding his VoidNET brethren while making a name for himself as a very reliable “courier” for discreet goods. Jack used the money he earned from these odd “jobs” to constantly upgrade his tech, mostly. Some of it was spent, and gained, while gambling on backroom card games. Card games that he usually won thanks to his tech expertise.
All in all life was good, until a high stakes game of sabacc got his right arm incinerated as the result of crossfire between two very angry Cartel grunts. That was also the first time he had to kill to survive, luckily he was a pretty good shot with his left hand. Surprisingly enough the act of killing didn’t bother him. Maybe it was all the violence he had grown up around, or maybe some part of him simply detached when he was in danger. Nonetheless Jack survived because of it, fashioned a replacement arm to suit his needs, and went back to enjoying life.
What little he learned there simply couldn’t satisfy him, and he had taken to tinkering with anything he could get his hands on rather than being content simply waiting around for the hope of adoption. Eventually Jack’s curiosity got the best of him, and he fashioned a lockpick to break out to see the outside world. It fascinated him, it terrified him, it may have almost killed him, he doesn’t exactly remember it too clearly nowadays. The experience was so exhilarating Jack simply had to do it again, and again, and again, until one day he simply never went back to that dismal place he had called a “home” for his entire life.
Life on the streets was vibrant and entertaining. He was free to tinker with whatever he could get his hands on, so long as he wasn’t caught, and there was never a dull moment. Of course they were also very dangerous and misleading, a lesson Jack would soon learn. Jack fell in with the wrong crowd, well, wrong is a matter of perspective. To Jack those that took him in and showed him kindness were far better than the caretakers at the orphanage, even if they were actually recruiting themselves a new mule to manipulate as they pleased.
As one would expect the life of a gang manipulated street rat was very dirty and very dangerous. Jack was taught how to survive on the streets, where not to go, when not to be seen, who to avoid, and everything that was involved with “hood life”. In exchange he was tasked with delivering various “packages” to various places and various individuals, using his small size to sneak around where adults couldn’t, and to play the scared homeless kid that pickpocketed marks (Where “Fisher” came from).
As his “handlers” gradually realized Jacks usefulness they began to give him more dangerous “jobs”, and as added incentive they began to reward him with bits of old tech to tinker with to his heart’s content. A cheap way to keep the kid occupied when they didn’t have a use for him, little did they expect him to wire what they gave him into a makeshift “arm” of sorts, or for that arm to burn out, explode, and imbed a piece of metal in Jack’s left eye. While he lost his eye his handlers finally found out just how special of a kid they had, gathering their best underground techies to teach Jack.
He was their little savant, a boy wonder that surpassed the expectations of every skilled engineer, slicer, and coder they had, and the ticket to their big payday. It didn’t take long before tutors became obsolete, with access to the dark web Jack was teaching himself faster than they could ever hope to do so, though this didn’t go unnoticed by certain individuals that lurked behind the darkness. While his current gang was happy using Jack to get what they wanted and simply keeping the kid content with salvaged tech another group of individuals saw a “brother in code” held captive by those that lacked “the gift”.
A small conglomerate of master coders and slicers known remotely as VoidNET began to systematically disrupt the efforts of Jack’s captors, throwing their gang into turmoil and snatching Jack up for themselves, or freeing him from their perspective. They smuggled Jack from Fondor, taking him far from the colony worlds, far from the Inner Rim, and bringing him to their base of operations on Nar Shaddaa. Jack’s life would begin anew.
Unlike his old gang the members of VoidNET actually cared for Jack. They nurtured him, taught him how to become a ghost of the net, and gave him the resources for him to fashion a cybernetic eye to replace the one he lost. On top of that they didn’t ask anything in return, only that he never use his gifts to do harm to other members of VoidNET. He was part of their family, a truly free man capable of doing just about anything he desired.
So what did Jack do with his newfound freedom you ask? Well, as he blossomed into a young man Jack found himself enjoying the life of a nomadic businessman (*cough* Smuggler *cough*), occasionally aiding his VoidNET brethren while making a name for himself as a very reliable “courier” for discreet goods. Jack used the money he earned from these odd “jobs” to constantly upgrade his tech, mostly. Some of it was spent, and gained, while gambling on backroom card games. Card games that he usually won thanks to his tech expertise.
All in all life was good, until a high stakes game of sabacc got his right arm incinerated as the result of crossfire between two very angry Cartel grunts. That was also the first time he had to kill to survive, luckily he was a pretty good shot with his left hand. Surprisingly enough the act of killing didn’t bother him. Maybe it was all the violence he had grown up around, or maybe some part of him simply detached when he was in danger. Nonetheless Jack survived because of it, fashioned a replacement arm to suit his needs, and went back to enjoying life.
SKILLS:
- Weaponry: While Jack isn't exactly "soldier material" he is surprisingly good with small arms, namely pistols or compact smgs as they generally lack weight, size, and recoil encumbrances, and small melee weapons; for the same reason. He is, or was, a gangster after all, sometimes running for your life simply isn't enough. However the main reason for Jack's light arms expertise is due to his very good hand eye coordination, reaction speed, and calculatory abilities. These traits also extend to weapons of just about any kind but Jack lacks any training whatsoever with the vast majority of weaponry.
- Hand-to-Hand: Jack's hand-to-hand fighting style could simply be summarized as 'do everything you possibly can to survive'. There is no actual "style", only calculated movements that utilize his extreme reflexes, wiry frame, rugged prosthetic, and surroundings to do whatever he can to come out of an unavoidable tussle alive and as well as possible.
- I.R.Uber-Techie: As mentioned before Jack is a savant when it comes to just about everything tech related, so much so that some people actually think that binary is his primary language or he's some sort of A.I. due to his rate of technological adaptation and general prowess with a computer. Hell, sometimes he does find himself thinking in code. From fabricating parts for and repairing droids, ships, and advanced weaponry to crafting extremely thorough false credentials, slicing fortified networks, and just about everything in between. If there's a computer involved you can count on Jack to work with it in ways that may just baffle the minds that designed it.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
GEAR:
- Raskta Precision PHS-R9 "Kar'lo" Pistol: Jack never goes anywhere without his trusty "Kar'lo", or "Righty" as he's dubbed it (Since he usually shoots it with his right hand/keeps it holstered on his right hip). It's saved his ass more times than he can count, well, 141 times since his gang days. He can, and does, keep count so I guess that adage doesn't really work for him. Jack always has at least 2 power packs on hand just in case, 3+ depending on how dangerous the "neighborhood" is.
- SH-5 "Surprise" Hold-Out Blaster: Ahh, good ole "Lefty". Remember when I said Jack never goes anywhere without "Righty"? Well that was a lie. There are some places that sneaking a weapon, even one as small as a PHS-R9, through security simply isn't possible, but something designed to bypass security like the SH-5 on the other hand... (You can probably guess why Jack calls it "Lefty") With extremely small power packs it's fairly simple to carry around a couple on him at all times, and as for location Jack has a special compartment in his prosthetic arm to hide it. Though he isn't against using a wire system to rig it up his sleeve or tucking it into a false shoe heel, so on and so forth.
- SXS-33 Courier: This happened to be the ship that smuggled Jack from Fondor to Nar Shaddaa. Not the exact ship but the model. Jack liked it so much that he decided to go out and steal his own, after framing the owner for a few rather serious cyber crimes. Afterwords he had it repainted with a darker grey base and faded yellow detailing, some of which is actually electroluminescent. When a current is passed under particular areas of the hull all yellow turns to neon blue and additional designs appear along the normally grey areas of the hull, deception abounds. The ship's registration is liquid, constantly changing to whatever Jack desires to cover his tracks, and has been retrofitted with numerous internal, and a few external, hidden compartments.
KILLS:
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Active
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Completed
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Last edited:
- Joined
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- Messages
- 171
- Reaction score
- 40
Jack's "All-In-One" Ocular Suite
Affiliation: N/A
Ownership: Custom Built by Jack Fisher for Jack Fisher.
Intent: Jack lost his left eye in a childhood accident and, as a techie savant, decided to design and fabricate his own cybernetic replacement with the purpose of restoring his depth perception and providing a vision based neural-cyber interface for Jack to do his various cyber "misdeeds" without seeming as suspicious. Not to mention all the other cool crap that an intuitive young slicer/engineer can do with a self designed cybernetic eye.
Model/Name: It doesn't really have a technical name but Jack likes to refer to it as his "All-In-One" Ocular Suite.
Type: Cybernetic Eye/Microcomputer/Batman Utility Device.
Power Supply: One D-Cell suppository, err... three highly efficient microbatteries (1 in eye, 1 connected to temple dataport, 1 connected to left frontal sinus adjacent mainframe.) with 18 standard hour operating time at peak processing power, 90 standard hour operating time with minimal usage. Recharges via dataport.
Sensors: The A.I.O. Ocular Suite has an array of visual and cybernetic censors at its disposal, and a single gas sensor. The "eye" portion is capable of your standard human range of light detection (normal sight); thermal (infrared) vision; minimal light (night) vision; a pseudo x-ray vision, by overlaying known schematics/previously taken images with current sight; and a minor form of electroreception that allows Jack to see if an object is electrically active or there's some creature hiding behind something and whatnot, providing that thing isn't electrically active and therefore masking said creatures bioelectric field.
(Electroreception Link: Visually appears as a form of localized visual distortion while the sensor is active) It should be noted that all visual sensors have been designed to deal with rapid increases or decreases in the relevant form of "light".
The dataport/antenna portion of Jack's Ocular Suite has its own wide range radio frequency sensor that allows Jack to access nearby wireless connections; listen in on holocalls; and patch into other various radio signals. There is also a single gas sensor connected to the left frontal sinus adjacent mainframe and located within the actual sinus cavity, which is designed to detect, well, deadly/toxic gases and current atmospheric composition.
Size: It's difficult to give a hard size on something so small and intricate with multiple components. The "eye" is the size of, well, an eye. That much is obvious. The visible portion of the left temple dataport is 20mm in diameter, just under the size of a nickel, which connects to the left frontal sinus adjacent mainframe located within the skull (not in the brain cavity, in the actual skull and sinus cavity) between the temple and the left frontal sinus cavity.
Composition: Medical grade titanium/durasteel alloys make up much of the casing and framework, for corrosion resistance namely. Various opacities of transparisteel make up the lenses of the eye and much of the visible eye for lifelike appearance. Top-end electrical components, microprocessors, solid state drives, etc. Most of which were fabricated by Jack after stealing schematics or deconstructing various pieces of tech.
Description: (Describe your device in good detail here. What is its function? What can it do? What can't it do? Who makes it? Put in as much as you can. You can only use features you've written down, so include everything you intend to use.)
Last edited:
- Joined
- Nov 3, 2015
- Messages
- 171
- Reaction score
- 40
Aella Fett
[fancybox4="http://i930.photobucket.com/albums/ad148/darkkon/Aella%201_zpsgnxn1vrd.jpg"]"Recorder set... Alright, why don't we start with the basics. Could you state your full name, age, and... gender for us?"
"Gender? Really? That's not obvious enough?"
"It's just for audio clarification."
"Right, because whoever sees this wouldn't be able to tell..." *sigh* "...whatever. My name is A-yell-ah, A-E-L-L-A, Ko-reh, K-O-R-E, Fett; with two tees. I'm thirty-four standard years old and yes, I'm a woman."
"I'm sorry, but even you have to admit your physique is rather... intimidating for most human women."
"That's because I'm only part human, well, I am human but half of me is a different kind of human. My father was a Corellian and my mother was a Ragithian, she's where my, err, 'size' comes from."
"Ragithian? Are they all around your size then?"
"Larger, actually. I have no idea how long ago but apparently the humans that moved to Ragith Three underwent extensive genetic modification to adapt to the planet's high gravity, becoming musclebound 'giants' essentially. Something like more bulky Null I guess. Anyway, Dad was quite the small fry compared to Mom and I landed somewhere in the middle."
So how, uh, tall are you exactly?
"I'm six-nine, or just under two-hundred and six centimeters depending on what system you use. And just so you don't have to ask I weight about two-hundred-fifty-eight pounds; hundred-seventeen kilos."
"Two-fifty-eight? You don't look that heavy.
"Thanks, I think. There's a lot of muscle under these curves."
"So..." *clears throat* "You said you were a Fett right? Are you by chance a mercenary?"
"Ya know, just because my last name is Fett doesn't mean I'm a mercenary... Buuuut yes, yes I am. Though I'd say I'm more of a part-time mercenary, part-time thrill seeker, part-time volunteer instructor, and part-time vivacious bar crawler; gotta have some fun every now and then."
"Volunteer Instructor?"
"That's the one that stuck out to you? Okay... Yeah, volunteer instructor. Lets just say I'm affiliated with certain Mandalorian factions and I happen to be a rather skilled fighter, that and I know how to repair and maintain most types of equipment we use. Those abilities are valuable and should be passed on to the next generation of Mandalorians."
[/fancybox4]
ASSETS
[fancybox2]
"Why don't you tell me about some of your capabilities. As a mercenary that extra strength of yours must come in handy, just how strong would you say you are?"
"Well, I'm not exactly certain on the pound for pound specifics but when I've had a few too many drinks I like to find the biggest person I can and challenge them to a wrestling match. I have quite a few fuzzy memories of grappling with Wookies and Gammoreans in my skivvies and coming out on top... Err, why are you looking at me like that? Oh! No no no, not like that! Bleh, too hairy and too ugly. The sore losers usually try and claim that I used a muscle suit to win, soooo after a few more drinks I tend to strip down for another round to prove them wrong."
"I see... that's quite uh, impressive. I take it that means hauling your equipment around is rather easy then?"
"Yep, plus I don't trust powered suits. If I can't carry it myself I don't deserve to carry it. Not to mention it probably helps that my parents trained me on Ragith Three most of the time, building muscle and stamina in high gravity makes working in 'normal' gravity a breeze."
"But wouldn't the high gravity hamper your ability to get around?"
"Certainly, but Ragithians are built to get around in it. I may only be half Ragithian but my body is still built to sprint, leap, and climb my way through heavy gravity; and to take some rather heavy blows for that matter. I doubt the Ragithians would've survived long if their bodies were as fragile as normal humans, falling in high gravity hurts. Our bodies are denser and tougher due to the genetic engineering, which is why we're usually heavier than we look."
"How well does that translate to normal gravity though? Being denser must hamper your movement some."
"That's true, though with my more petite build it tends to transfer a bit better. Yes, I'm petite for a Ragithian. I'm actually surprisingly nimble for my size, the problem with my added weight is that without ideal traction it's harder for me to change my direction when I'm running and when I jump I'm going to land pretty hard; not exactly good for stealth as you can imagine. It's why I have a five-point propulsion system rather than just the single jetpack you see some bounty hunters with."
"Five-point?"
"Yep. The jetpack is one; I have additional jets built into my boots, two and three; then the flamethrowers I have built into my arm-guards can be swapped to a more propulsive less roast everything mode, four and five. The five points allow for much more acute control over my body while in the air or under water, though general flight is handled by the jetpack alone. I had to make sure all the jets were rated for underwater use, Ragithian density means we sink pretty damn fast in normal gravity."
"Wow, how do you manage to control all of that at the same time?"
"Short answer, neural collar. It took me a while to find an EMP resistant one, or two rather, but it sure as hell comes in handy. I also have a secondary verbal command system and a tertiary manual one."
"What sort of armor do you use?"
"A custom set of mine that I've tweaked and upgraded over the years. I started off with a basic Aliit'Gam base; added some flamethrowers and holdout blasters to my arm-guards; then the extra jets on my boots; the second collar as a backup; got a repulsor belt; got myself a pretty good personal particle shield generator; and replaced my arm-guards, boots, shin-guards, and knee guards with a beskar alloy set. After the whole civil war and cluster-frack with the Empire thing I managed to score a MUNIN upgrade through some trade work with the Confederacy; tore apart some spare Vagabond pieces to replace my durasteel with matrix plating; attached a shoulder-launched miniature guided missile housing to the right side of my jetpack; and incorporated the launch-able blades from my mom's old beskar Tal'galar into my arm-guards as retractable forearm blades. Damn I love those blades. I used two per arm-guard with a locking dual protrusion system along the outer side of the guards. They sit side by side within the housing and when activated extend in opposite directions and away from the arm a few inches, locking into a single blade that runs six inches past my fist to a few inches past my elbow; pretty much turning my arms into axes."
"Very impressive, and you did all of this yourself?"
"Yep. I love working on my gear, if you couldn't tell." *audible laughter*
"It certainly sounds like it. Aside from the missiles your weaponry seems to be geared towards close and mid range combat, do you use any long range weapons or other explosives or do you focus primarily on pyrotechnics and melee?"
"I do actually. Truth is while I love fire, probably a bit too much, and I enjoy melee combat, again probably a bit too much, I'm also a pretty good marksman, not the best or the quickest but still pretty damn good if I say so myself, and I regularly use a few different types of grenades and mines. My favorite gun has to be the Shoki, a heavy blaster rifle that shoots explosive beams? Yes please! I've even got an under barrel launcher attachment for the various grenades I use. I also have a Hiraku with an under barrel stun-gun and a Firestorm, because what self respecting pyro wouldn't?"
"You mentioned grenades and mines, which kinds do you usually use?"
"Typically EMP's, thermals, frags, flash-bangs, and glop. I also carry a couple sticky trackers I can launch with my shoki, thorium breach charges, det-tape, and some tripwire to rig up long-term traps. Proximity sensors and light curtains are wonderful but their power source only lasts so long."
"That's quite an arsenal, it must have taken quite a bit of training to get used to it all."
"Well, I was born and raised Mandalorian rather than joining later in life; my training started very young. I was lucky enough to have parents that specialized in different areas of combat. Mom was big on melee combat while Dad preferred range, stealth, and setting traps. Mom was also an armor and shield tech while Dad maintained the weaponry. The only lessons of theirs that didn't really stick involved farming."
"Farming?"
"Ehh, it's a Fett thing."
"Okaaay... moving on. What sort of transportation do you use? Do you have your own ship?"
"I do, it's a H-Seven Thity-Three-'O'-Three with some added flare and chaff systems for defensive countermeasures, as well as a handful of droids to keep things running smooth. I turned one of the spare quarters into a prisoner containment area for those live bounties and another into a med bay."
"What about on the ground? I can't imagine a jet-pack would have enough fuel to take you everywhere."
"Oh, I've got a Zee-Thirteen speeder for land transport."
"You mentioned droids, which do you have?"
"I've got a stationary medical droid in the med bay, well, it's limited to the room at least; a heavy labor droid to help with any cargo I might have; and two Arr-Nine astromechs."
"Two for that size of vessel?"
"Well Red, I call them by color, never leaves the ship; handles the more 'techy' maintenance jobs, I'm good with physical repairs but not all that great with the computer systems; acts as co-pilot, or pilot while I'm not on-board; and is responsible for any on-board cybernetic offensive or defensive measures we might need. I outfitted Blue to be my in-field assistant, though Blue helps Red around the ship when I can't use em due to terrain issues and whatnot. Anyway, I gave Blue heavier armor; a mediocre ray shield generator; a flamethrower, because I love fire ya know; a stun prod; a heavy blaster with enough power for about seven shots before it needs another power cell; upgraded his jets to keep up with mine; and a grenade launcher, though he can only hold three rounds at a time. Despite the armaments I mainly use Blue to help with slicing and decoding while boarding craft or in city settings, that and reinforcing my connection to the ship."
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BIOGRAPHY
[fancybox4="http://i930.photobucket.com/albums/ad148/darkkon/Aella%202_zpsctcsnccq.jpg"]"How about we talk about you for a little while."
"Me? Haven't we been talking about me this entire time?"
"Only what you own, what you can do, and a bit about what you look like but not who you are. Why don't we start at the beginning, where were you born? What was your childhood like?"
*Heavy Sigh* "Fine. I was born on Concord Dawn, Nine-Eighty-Nine A-B-Y if you can't do the math. As I said before both of my parents were clan Fett..."
"We don't have to..."
"Ba'jur bal beskar'gam... ara'nov, aliit... Mando'a, Mand'alor. An vencuyan mhi." *Sigh* "It's been a while since I've said that out loud."
"What does it mean?"
"Ah, right. You don't speak Mando'a. 'Education and armor... self-defense, our tribe... our language, our leader. All help us survive.' That is our Resol'nare, our Six Actions, the tenets that form the very foundation of our culture. We who are born Mando'ade are raised with these tenets at heart, those who join us later in life must learn them before anything else, I was no exception. My childhood was rather peaceful compared to what most people think of when they hear the word Mandalorian, we are warriors by nature but we're not brutes. Well, most of us aren't at least. As a little girl I spent most of my time watching and helping my parents around the homestead. My parents may have been warriors but in times of peace they were farmers and hunters. I learned how to live off of the land; how to hunt and trap game; how to repair our tools and equipment; how to erect and maintain a vheh'yaim, one of our traditional dwellings; and in our spare time, how to fight."
"You said your parents would take you to Ragith Three to train in high gravity, when did that start?"
"That began when I was a little older, when I turned eight and I started to grow into my, err, Ragithian body. It was the prelude to my coming of age, the five years of martial and survival training that would prepare me for the verd'goten, our right of passage into adulthood. My mother chose her home planet as the setting, she believed that if she could teach me to fight and survive in the high gravity despite being only half Ragithian then I would be able to thrive in lower gravity like she did, perhaps even more so."
"That must've been rather difficult after living on Concord Dawn for so long."
"Oh, it was. Very much so. Most of the first year I struggled just to get around the terrain with my gear, but I gradually became accustomed to it. I could feel my body adapting to the terrain as if I were meant to be there, well, I'm not sure if I actually felt it but that's how I remember it anyhow. After a few years I was well acclimated. Sure I was smaller and physically weaker than most pure-blooded Ragithian but I was quicker and more agile. Bladework and hand to hand combat came naturally to me, much like my mother, and I turned out to be a fairly good shot. Dad would occasionally stop by and teach me more about long range combat, tracking, and trapping. He needed a muscle suit to stay on planet though and the heavier atmo prevented him from staying for extended periods of time. After five years of training on Ragith Three I felt stronger and quicker than I ever did on Concord Dawn; I could move around just as easily if not more so. The reality of just how much that training had affected me wouldn't set in until I returned home. I felt so light, so quick, and so strong... it was surreal. Getting used to the thinner atmo took a little while, not to mention our whole issue with swimming. Hell, I had to undergo special training just to keep my body in check." *Audible laughter*
"Did it help you with your verd... vaerdgotin... your right of passage like your mother had hoped?"
"Verd'goten, and yes, immensely. At least in the physical aspects of the trial. Shooting, tracking, and the like are generally the same regardless of gravity, you just have to account for the clime and the wind. For my trial I had to successfully track and... confront another member of Clan Fett in the wilderness."
"Confront?"
"Attempt to capture. The chosen target is instructed to take it easy but considering they generally have far more experience victory for the child isn't necessary, the child simply has to prove themselves worthy of passage in the eyes of the target."
"So the Verd'goten is essentially a coming of age man-hunt?"
"Not always. Every clan does things differently, as does every tribe within that clan. For me it was a 'man-hunt', for others it could be a beast hunt, a tournament, or just a series of challenges set up by their family. Regardless of how it's done all who pass are considered adults from there on out."
"I see, so how did your trial go?"
"Good. I managed to track my target down just fine, though I'm sure he could tell I was close to him a few times. When the time came to spring my trap he managed to evade my tripwires and a pitfall I dug but he didn't anticipate just how strong I'd become. I actually managed to overpower him physically and legitimately back him into a corner, though in the end he managed to turn the tables and pin me down. I still managed to impress him and everyone else in our tribe that heard him tell the story, then we all drank in celebration of my passage."
"You drank at thirteen?"
"Well, yes. I was an adult and an equal in all rights, the right to alcohol included."
"I see, so how were things after that? What were your teens like?"
"Like many other Mandalorian girls I'd imagine. I started to accompany some of my closer tribesman on off-planet work; the occasional mercenary job or bounty hunt. Since I was now an adult and approaching marriageable age, which is generally considered sixteen in our culture, my mom started to teach me the general duties of females in Mandalorian society. Though the only difference from males is that we were expected to be able to cook and care for children while our mate was away in addition to being able to fight."
"That sounds... slightly sexist on the males part."
"Oh? I suppose it could to an aruetyc, non-mandalorian. You see, the position of raising the next generation of Mando'ade and ensuring your family's health is a highly respected one. It is considered just as, if not more, important than being a warrior. Not to mention that females were also expected to be warriors and fight alongside the men if there were no children to care for. Of course that didn't mean men couldn't fill the same roles of family cook and dedicated parent, and they quite often did. There is no gender bias in our culture."
"Interesting. Did you ever marry?"
*Loud audible laughter* "Frack no!" *less audible laughter*
"Why not? If you don't mind me asking."
"Well, it certainly wasn't for a lack of suitors. Since skill and strength in a woman is 'hot' for us every man, and a few women, worth their weight in our tribe practically lined up for the honor, and some of them were rather tempting. The problem was that as a teen, and now for that matter, I loved life and freedom too much to tie myself to one individual like that. Even if 'adultery', as most call is, isn't so much of an issue in our culture as long as any offspring from said act are raised as one of their own I simply didn't want to break someone's heart. My parents respected my desires to stay single, though that didn't stop them from trying to find me a good suitor every now and then. Who knows, maybe I'll find the desire to actually stick with someone one day."
"Without the demanding job of raising a child I bet you had a lot more time to train."
"Damn right. Through my mid to late teens I would spend a few years off and on training on Ragith Three and eventually I started doing my own mercenary work. Bodyguard, escort, hunter, salvager, and the like. Long distance transportation was an issue though so I tended to do local jobs or jobs with their own transportation between hitching rides from fellow Mando. Practically all of the credits I earned went into upgrading my armor and getting better weapons, though I'd set aside a set amount from every job towards a ship of my own. This cycle repeated into my early twenties, and I could finally afford an H-Seven with an astromech co-pilot when I turned twenty-three. I had flown my parents' quite a bit so it didn't take long for me to get used to the controls. Once I did I was finally free to go just about wherever I wanted whenever I wanted and by twenty-four I had enough money to buy myself a few more droids and some more upgrades... Then the call came to rally in preparation for a blitz on the core worlds on the behalf of the Imperium."
"You took part in the Core World Blitz of Ten-Thirteen?"
"Yeah, I fought alongside my parents and the other warriors of my tribe, carving a path for the Imperium war machine with our fellow Mando'ade under Mandalore's guidance. The battles were bloody but we emerged victorious, though not without loss of our own. Still, even after losing many close friends and a leader I can't say a part of me didn't thoroughly enjoy it, and I gained my first real scars there. Got impaled through the left thigh with some shrapnel and a large burn on my back from my jetpack catching fire, ya know, the basic stuff. After the core worlds were in the hands of the Imperium we turned our sights to the Kuat Drive Yards. Had a fun time there too, lost some more friends though. Still drink to their memory, probably always will, just as I do for my parents..."
"For what it's worth you have my sympathies. When did your parents die? You didn't mention it happening during the Core Blitz or the assault on Kuat Drive Yards."
*sigh* "That's because it didn't... They were killed during the Mandalorian Fracture. Mom was killed during the Battle of Jaster's Reach alongside our leader Aliit'alor Vhett and most of our Clan. After that father and I sifted through the ashes and the corpses to find what memorabilia we could and aided what was left of our Clan in cremating our dead, but we didn't even have enough time to find solace in honoring their memory before the Sith began their firebombing campaign against us... Clan Fett didn't have enough people left to fend off the empire, but that didn't stop our eldest warriors from banding together with the other fractured clans and doing what they could while the youngest evacuated to carry on the memory of Clan Fett. I managed to escape Mandalorian space before the Sith blockaded it, but my father was one of the pilots that ran a suicidal diversion to make an opening. Watched his ship get taken out by an Imperium dreadnaught in the rear-view... After that I had enough of 'fighting the big fight', I simply wanted to enjoy what I could in life and stick to taking my doses of violence and action on a much smaller galactic scale."
"Is that why you affiliated yourself with the Mandalorian factions that grew from the Fracture rather than outright joining them?"
"Pretty much. I am still Mando'ade, I desire to see our culture survive and am more than willing to pass what I know on to the next generation, but I do not wish to be drawn into any larger conflicts they back. I keep myself distant because I know that if I'm asked to fight alongside them as a fellow Mando'ade and for the survival of our culture I wouldn't be able to refuse. I've seen enough of my people die... Frack that was grim."
"I just have one more question for you. What's your favorite cheese?"
*Surprised and confused laughter* "What!?! My favorite cheese?" *more laughter* "You sure know how to lighten the mood. Well, lets see... I don't really have a favorite but I guess I prefer mild cheeses, especially the kinds with spicy herbs mixed in."
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