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*Warning: I've got some pretty big pictures, so I put them in spoilers. There's a big one for each section of the bio and a few others scattered in between. So...yeahp, just a warnin'.
Ship:
Glory in Pride
Personality:
Nicolo never learned many valuable life lessons when he was younger due to being incredibly rich, incredibly smart, and incredibly talented. Though he wasn't exactly an asshole, he had many of the qualities, and the had them bad. It was expected of him to become a powerful Senator in the Alliance, like his great grandfather. For whatever reasons, his grandfather and father hadn't lived up to what had been considered to be their great potential. Instead they had chosen to live more like shepherds, or hermits even. Nicolo thought them stupid at the time.
When he grew older, he only grew more arrogant. He was a talented mechanic, pilot, and he couldn't be bested in a fist fight or a sword fight. He had every reason to think of himself as the best, and untouchable at that. Women wanted him, and they were all pretty women at that, and he always had them because he couldn't turn down a cute girl.
Everything fell by the way side in his mid twenties. With the decision of his readiness made by his father and grandfather, the young man's training as an assassin began. When that happened, a sudden change happened in Nicolo. Though he was, of course, talented at everything he tried and still very cocky, a much larger sense of honor in his work, kindness toward the poorer and sickly who he had so often made fun of back, who he had then chosen to serve in his work whenever possible. But a lack of motive, besides the beck and call of his father and grandfather, kept a feeling of emptiness inside the young assassin, even through the years.
After learning the ways of the assassin more thoroughly, and becoming a little more entrenched in his work, he found a way to get over the feeling of emptiness in a real motive. He became a little more withdrawn, though still liked to court a lot of women and drink, and now tends to show little emotion while talking, though his quickness to anger and everything is still there. He also tries to keep himself detached from people, not wanting to form relationships due to the dangerous conditions of his "work".
Biography:
Name: Nicolo Salvatorelli
Faction: None
Rank: Mercenary/Assassin-for-hire
Species: Human
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Height: 6'6
Weight: 245 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Skin: Caucasian/semi-tanned
Credits: As many as he needs
Distinguishing marks: Scar on his upper lip, left side
Force Sensitive: No
Faction: None
Rank: Mercenary/Assassin-for-hire
Species: Human
Age: 32
Gender: Male
Height: 6'6
Weight: 245 lbs
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Black
Skin: Caucasian/semi-tanned
Credits: As many as he needs
Distinguishing marks: Scar on his upper lip, left side
Force Sensitive: No
Skills:
Sword fighting
Parkour/Free-running
Fist fighting
Gunplay
Lightsaber/Sword-forms:
Basic understanding of Makashi
Strengths and Weaknesses:
+Intelligent
+Charismatic and bold
+Incredibly good fighter
-Arrogant
-Quick to anger
-Unsure of his own motives
Gear:
1xBlaster pistol
2xVibroblades
1xCombat Knife
10xThrowing Knives
5xPoison Darts
2xHidden Blade (one on each arm)
Sword fighting
Parkour/Free-running
Fist fighting
Gunplay
Lightsaber/Sword-forms:
Basic understanding of Makashi
Strengths and Weaknesses:
+Intelligent
+Charismatic and bold
+Incredibly good fighter
-Arrogant
-Quick to anger
-Unsure of his own motives
Gear:
1xBlaster pistol
2xVibroblades
1xCombat Knife
10xThrowing Knives
5xPoison Darts
2xHidden Blade (one on each arm)
Ship:
Glory in Pride
Personality:
Nicolo never learned many valuable life lessons when he was younger due to being incredibly rich, incredibly smart, and incredibly talented. Though he wasn't exactly an asshole, he had many of the qualities, and the had them bad. It was expected of him to become a powerful Senator in the Alliance, like his great grandfather. For whatever reasons, his grandfather and father hadn't lived up to what had been considered to be their great potential. Instead they had chosen to live more like shepherds, or hermits even. Nicolo thought them stupid at the time.
When he grew older, he only grew more arrogant. He was a talented mechanic, pilot, and he couldn't be bested in a fist fight or a sword fight. He had every reason to think of himself as the best, and untouchable at that. Women wanted him, and they were all pretty women at that, and he always had them because he couldn't turn down a cute girl.
Everything fell by the way side in his mid twenties. With the decision of his readiness made by his father and grandfather, the young man's training as an assassin began. When that happened, a sudden change happened in Nicolo. Though he was, of course, talented at everything he tried and still very cocky, a much larger sense of honor in his work, kindness toward the poorer and sickly who he had so often made fun of back, who he had then chosen to serve in his work whenever possible. But a lack of motive, besides the beck and call of his father and grandfather, kept a feeling of emptiness inside the young assassin, even through the years.
After learning the ways of the assassin more thoroughly, and becoming a little more entrenched in his work, he found a way to get over the feeling of emptiness in a real motive. He became a little more withdrawn, though still liked to court a lot of women and drink, and now tends to show little emotion while talking, though his quickness to anger and everything is still there. He also tries to keep himself detached from people, not wanting to form relationships due to the dangerous conditions of his "work".
Biography:
Prologue
The Box
The box was sent by my father, Antonio Salvatorelli, and my grandfather, Milan Salvatorelli. My family hasn't heard from either of them for over fifteen years, and now they're calling on me.
In the letter enclosed with a custom-built vibroblade, hidden blade mechanism, and "robes of the assassin" as they called the clothes in there, they told me that it was up to me to continue on as a servant to the poor. Hmm, that doesn't sound like something a relative of MINE would write...Let's see, blah blah blah, true gentleman want to help those below them not make fun of them for not being as well off, yadda yadda yadda, people who abuse their power deserve to...
Deserve to die?
Yeesh, I guess that's what this hidden blade thing-y is for.
*A noise in the background of the recording can be heard, it sounds like a small blade being triggered into unsheathing itself. The young Nicolo exclaims in surprise*
Woah, man. Okay, let's see. In this letter are the blueprints for the hidden blade mechanism. Your grandfather and I have been working on this design for four years, figuring out how to let you keep your ring finger. The original design given to us on Ziost made you cut...off your own...Oh god, that's horrible!
I have called Lucretzia and told her to relinquish the Salvatorelli's Pride to you were you to answer our call, the letter continued on. It's now yours, as I know you could probably pilot that sucker by now. Hell, I bet you're even gonna do the repairs on it yourself. We're currently on Nar Shaddaa. Meet us there, and you will begin your training.
That was basically the end of the letter, and immediately I found my way to my new luxury cruiser. Nobody was on it, not even a maintenance droid, and I already had a key for it. It was soon going to be mine anyway, my mother promised me, once I was a Senator. But no more, no more was I going to live a life of luxury. I didn't think I understood that then, and when I finally learned that I was a little bit upset.
For three years I trained on Nar Shaddaa, mostly through assassinations. The grimy, noire-themed planet was perfect for what I had to learn. Killing and rooftop navigation. Parkour is climbing buildings and the like, free-running is running across surfaces and platforms and the like. I don't think many people understand that.
For three years I trained on Nar Shaddaa, sneaking through the shadows and snatching up my prey. Rarely was I ever in contact with either my father or grandfather, and little did I learn of our actual goals.
But I had a good time while doing it. Often times a week or two went in between jobs, which could last anywhere from a day to two days to sometimes even a week. At that time I thought a week could be an incredibly long time, but eventually I would learn that the stuff we were aiming for was much, much bigger than all of that. Years of your life could be lost to one job, although that was often only the case for the biggest jobs. Up to this point, I've only had one of those. Though I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me keep this going.
In between jobs I would gamble, drink, meet the ladies. I continued to be basically a nobleman on a planet particularly dry of noblemen. It was a good spot to be in, especially when the ladies are much more attractive and less disgusting than one things. As long as you don't sleep with a dancer girl, my crotch itched and burned for weeks after that.
*an amused kind of scoffing sound is heard*
That's not a story for me to tell here.
I was great at what my dad and granddad wanted me to do. Better than them at it, though I suspect it's because I was still very young compared to them. My dad must have been fifty, his dad closer to seventy. He was but eighteen when he birthed my father, if that seems like kind of a close number to be father and son.
We rarely used blasters, that was only for when a situation got really out of hand. For the most part, we were fast and agile enough to out speed our opponents with blasters and take them out with a sword. Though more than what I thought fought back with a sword, though not for long when up against me.
By the time I was twenty-eight, my father and grandfather finally told me the origin of their assassination fetish.
On Ziost, where they had taken up residence searching for a reason to just about anything that would finally make sense of anything, they met a man. Johann, I believe they said his name was. The three became acquainted, and shared ideas on how to make the world better. Through that came the idea of the Brotherhood, a way to serve the people who deserved to be served by taking power out of the hands of those who didn't.
Johann seemed more interested in the idea of just assassinating to making money to me, but my dad and grand dad seemed convinced that he agreed with them.
However, finally with someone to replace him, my grandfather, Milan Salvatorelli, retired from our line of work and returned to Naboo. My father, with the knowledge that I was ready, sent me to Corellia. There awaited...my first long-term contract.
The Box
The box was sent by my father, Antonio Salvatorelli, and my grandfather, Milan Salvatorelli. My family hasn't heard from either of them for over fifteen years, and now they're calling on me.
In the letter enclosed with a custom-built vibroblade, hidden blade mechanism, and "robes of the assassin" as they called the clothes in there, they told me that it was up to me to continue on as a servant to the poor. Hmm, that doesn't sound like something a relative of MINE would write...Let's see, blah blah blah, true gentleman want to help those below them not make fun of them for not being as well off, yadda yadda yadda, people who abuse their power deserve to...
Deserve to die?
Yeesh, I guess that's what this hidden blade thing-y is for.
*A noise in the background of the recording can be heard, it sounds like a small blade being triggered into unsheathing itself. The young Nicolo exclaims in surprise*
Woah, man. Okay, let's see. In this letter are the blueprints for the hidden blade mechanism. Your grandfather and I have been working on this design for four years, figuring out how to let you keep your ring finger. The original design given to us on Ziost made you cut...off your own...Oh god, that's horrible!
I have called Lucretzia and told her to relinquish the Salvatorelli's Pride to you were you to answer our call, the letter continued on. It's now yours, as I know you could probably pilot that sucker by now. Hell, I bet you're even gonna do the repairs on it yourself. We're currently on Nar Shaddaa. Meet us there, and you will begin your training.
That was basically the end of the letter, and immediately I found my way to my new luxury cruiser. Nobody was on it, not even a maintenance droid, and I already had a key for it. It was soon going to be mine anyway, my mother promised me, once I was a Senator. But no more, no more was I going to live a life of luxury. I didn't think I understood that then, and when I finally learned that I was a little bit upset.
For three years I trained on Nar Shaddaa, mostly through assassinations. The grimy, noire-themed planet was perfect for what I had to learn. Killing and rooftop navigation. Parkour is climbing buildings and the like, free-running is running across surfaces and platforms and the like. I don't think many people understand that.
For three years I trained on Nar Shaddaa, sneaking through the shadows and snatching up my prey. Rarely was I ever in contact with either my father or grandfather, and little did I learn of our actual goals.
But I had a good time while doing it. Often times a week or two went in between jobs, which could last anywhere from a day to two days to sometimes even a week. At that time I thought a week could be an incredibly long time, but eventually I would learn that the stuff we were aiming for was much, much bigger than all of that. Years of your life could be lost to one job, although that was often only the case for the biggest jobs. Up to this point, I've only had one of those. Though I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me keep this going.
In between jobs I would gamble, drink, meet the ladies. I continued to be basically a nobleman on a planet particularly dry of noblemen. It was a good spot to be in, especially when the ladies are much more attractive and less disgusting than one things. As long as you don't sleep with a dancer girl, my crotch itched and burned for weeks after that.
*an amused kind of scoffing sound is heard*
That's not a story for me to tell here.
I was great at what my dad and granddad wanted me to do. Better than them at it, though I suspect it's because I was still very young compared to them. My dad must have been fifty, his dad closer to seventy. He was but eighteen when he birthed my father, if that seems like kind of a close number to be father and son.
We rarely used blasters, that was only for when a situation got really out of hand. For the most part, we were fast and agile enough to out speed our opponents with blasters and take them out with a sword. Though more than what I thought fought back with a sword, though not for long when up against me.
By the time I was twenty-eight, my father and grandfather finally told me the origin of their assassination fetish.
On Ziost, where they had taken up residence searching for a reason to just about anything that would finally make sense of anything, they met a man. Johann, I believe they said his name was. The three became acquainted, and shared ideas on how to make the world better. Through that came the idea of the Brotherhood, a way to serve the people who deserved to be served by taking power out of the hands of those who didn't.
Johann seemed more interested in the idea of just assassinating to making money to me, but my dad and grand dad seemed convinced that he agreed with them.
However, finally with someone to replace him, my grandfather, Milan Salvatorelli, retired from our line of work and returned to Naboo. My father, with the knowledge that I was ready, sent me to Corellia. There awaited...my first long-term contract.
Part 1:
The First Mission
The First Mission
Part 2:
The Search for "Johann"
The Search for "Johann"
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