Zay
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Jan 8, 2014
- Messages
- 2,538
- Reaction score
- 960
Jason Cordro
OVERVIEW
BIOGRAPHICAL INFORMATION
Homeworld
Born
Faction
Rank
Level
Nar Shaddaa
6923 BBY
Hutt Cartel
Prospect
1
Born
Faction
Rank
Level
Nar Shaddaa
6923 BBY
Hutt Cartel
Prospect
1
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Species
Gender
Height
Mass
Hair Color
Eye Color
Skin Color
Corellian
Male
1.524 m
72.6 kg
Dirty Blonde
Blue
Caucasian
Gender
Height
Mass
Hair Color
Eye Color
Skin Color
Corellian
Male
1.524 m
72.6 kg
Dirty Blonde
Blue
Caucasian
ATTRIBUTES
Strength
Dexterity
Stamina
Intelligence
Wisdom
Charisma
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Dexterity
Stamina
Intelligence
Wisdom
Charisma
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Being raised in an abusive home has done severe damage to Jason's psyche. He has a short fuse and a quick wit which make a troublesome combination in the seedier areas of Nar Shaddaa. To clarify Jason isn't popping off on every thug he comes across, but if he's accosted he isn't afraid to tell someone off. This tough exterior is a direct defiance of his father's oppression. For Jason, it's easier to push people away than it is to let them in. Those lucky enough to slip past his sarcastic jibes will find a surprisingly sensitive and caring person. His connection to the force allows him slight insight into the emotions of the beings around him. For the most part, he can easily pick up on obvious emotions like anger, sadness, or surprise; However, more nuanced emotions like indifference, stress, or remorse tend to be more difficult to identify. In his current state Jason's ability is more of a burden than a blessing. Nar Shadda is a chaotic world full of intense emotions the demented cacophony is basically hell for a poorly trained empath. Because of this, he tends to keep a tight lid on his powers, stifling them the best he can. While he's currently limited, Jason shows promise in the force and with training could be a powerful entity. For now, he uses his power as a means of survival. In all, Jason's a damaged kid struggling to become a man in an existence akin to calamity.
Jason's inner strife will be my main focus at the beginning of his story. The love that his mother instilled is at war with the rage induced by his father. The plots for Jason's Cartel career are in development here. I'm looking for a few people who are interested in forming close relationships. I have a few people in mind, but if I haven't approached you and you're interested let me know. I'm super laid back and pretty amicable, so please don't be intimidated to hit me up. Also, be sure to keep an eye on this profile for updates and future RP opportunities.
-
"I'm the son of a devil and an angel. One stayed too long and the other was taken too early..."
- ...
-
The familiar neon pink glow beckoned to him from afar. Jason had been to Nar Shaddaa's Neon district every day this week, but he wasn't chasing cheap thrills he was chasing a fading memory. He stepped off the lift and on to the promenade. Holodancers the size of small skyscrapers lined the main strip. The streets were packed with groups of pedestrians ogling the sensual holoprojections. Jason kept his head down and his collar up. He wasn't sightseeing, he knew exactly where he needed to be.
He slipped off the main strip, dropped down three streets, and cut across an avenue before he found her. The same girl he'd been to see every day for that last week. She was at least forty foot tall and see-through, she was dressed in the typical holodancer garb. Her garb made him uncomfortable, but luckily for Jason, her performance was modest, almost innocent. He couldn't bring himself to watch the full performance, nor did he want to, but right at the end the giant figure stoops down and looks directly at whoever is standing before her. In the instant, their eyes meet and he's sent back in time. Back before her death, before her sickness, and a few days after one of his father's rampages. Back to a time, he could understand... a place he could call home. Unfortunately, his moment in the past is fleeting. As quickly as he arrives he's banished. Back to the pain and loneliness, back to a life without his mother. Back to a life of him standing in the middle of the street in the Neon district, where the closest place he could call home was in a fragment of the past caught in the empty gaze of a holoprojection.
Jason's brow furrowed in anguish as the moment passed and he was forced back into the present. Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of his surroundings as the familiar drunken swirl of agitation and irritability brushed against his consciousness. He felt exposed in his anguish and that feeling of exposure turned anguish into rage. He stood stark still, fist and jaw clenched as the emotions drew closer. Jason was ready to fight, he needed it, he craved it. He needed a release from the rage building within, but as quickly as the feelings appeared, they faded and he was left with nothing but shame. He'd tainted his sanctuary, the last place he'd felt safe, with the anger his father had left him.
Tears burned in his eyes as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. John Cordro had taken everything from Jason and now he was in the wind. Dismayed, he turned from the holodancer and began making his way home. There was no rest for the weary and if he was going to make rent this month he needed to be one hundred percent at work in the morning.
The trip was uneventful, in a bustling city the last person noticed is the one on the verge of insanity. He was just a face in the crowd. A side character in someone else's grand epic. A no one from nowhere who'd eventually become nothing. Another unsung tragedy that's filed away as a percentage in an unfortunate report about low-income families. His legacy would be the wind and even that was stale on the Smuggler's Moon of Nar Shaddaa.
Jason entered his building and caught a lift headed up. It carried him forty-seven floors and then stopped to let him off. He stepped out of the lift and hung a right. He reached the end of the hallway and produced a keycard from his pocket. He pressed the key to the pad and the lock disengaged with a welcome chortle and the door slid open with a hiss. The apartment was dark and lonely, just the way he'd left it.
Hunger gnawed at his innards, but his depression numbed the pain with anxious nausea. Even alone in his apartment, he was a nervous wreck. Everything in him screamed for retribution, for vengeance, for penitence, but all he could muster was existence. He flicked on a light and stepped into the apartment. The door swished closed behind him and engaged the lock. Jason made his way to his room and locked himself in. He fell on his bed as the weight of the world seemed to press down on him.
The sadness permeating everything around him. It's existence was intense and stifling. Jason felt as if he were drowning in the emotion, succumbing to its siren song. He was close to giving in. Right on the brink, no, leaning over the precipice and staring into the abyss, but a faint hum shook him from his stupor.
He groaned then reached for the comlink in his pocket. He read the notification and opened the message.
You up?
Jason frowned as he read the iridescent letters in the dim light. He glanced at the number, it read "Unknown." He scowled but found himself intrigued by the mystery communication. It was a welcomed distraction from the terror his mind had become. So, Jason engaged.
new freq. who dis?
While he appreciated the distraction, the message, in reality, presented a big problem. Jason had only had this comlink for a little over a week and the only people who had its frequency was his employers at the diner. The added stress forced him out of bed. He needed to clear his mind before he continued talking to this mystery messenger. As he stood up and caught a whiff of himself and gasped. It was apparent he was overdue for a shower. With a sigh, he grabbed a towel and moved into the refresher. He cranked the water temperature up, waited a few seconds and then stepped into the shower. The heat from the water was therapeutic as it rained down over his body. It didn't wash away his ache or anxiety, but for a few minutes, he wasn't stressed out.
He turned off the water and dried off. He'd just wrapped a towel around him and walked out of the refresher when he heard the tri tonal chime of the front door. Immediately, fear gripped his heart and he froze in place.
"What now..." he muttered under his breath as he quietly slipped into his room and threw on some clothes.
The doorbell rang again. Jason stood in the doorway of his room desperately trying to figure out what to do. He was defenseless and alone. If they forced the door he was screwed. His comlink vibrated on his bed and he rushed over to quiet the little device.
When he got to the instrument there was a notification for three unread messages. He opened the messages and read them... his blood turned to ice as his eyes slid across the words on the display.
Your dad sent us to pick you up.
Open the door...
... or we'll let ourselves in.
The doorbell rang again and the comlink vibrated as another message came through... this one simply said, Have it your way, Jay.
Panic surged forth sending a jolt of adrenalin through Jason's body. He shoved the comlink into his pocket and shot around the corner. This was bad, this was really bad. He needed to explain the misunderstanding, he had to convince them it was a mistake. He was closing in on the door, his arm was outstretched and reaching for the lock— BOOM!
The sense of weightlessness made his stomach turn as he careened backward from the door he was about to open. His vision distorted as the force of the explosion threw him backward. His body crashed to the floor and he was sent rolling before coming to an abrupt halt against the wall in the back of the room. A high-pitched ringing filled his mind muffling his hearing. Jason's consciousness swam as he desperately fought to stay awake. As he started to push himself from the ground he felt powerful hands grip his neck and shoulder and jerk him up roughly.
A grunt of pain escaped his lips as he was restrained and brought to his feet. His eyes struggled to focus on the humanoid that had just stepped into his field of view. Jason's head drooped as he began to pass out, but a sudden stab of pain in his right shoulder brought his consciousness back. A burst of pain exploded across the right side of Jason's face splitting open the skin on his cheek. His body lulled, but again he was denied slumber. Rage began to bubble up in his blood. He was yanked up and forced to look into the face of the humanoid from before. Indignance shaped Jason's features as he glared at the man before him. A lanky purple twi'lek, with matching sickly yellow eyes and teeth. Jason grimaced as he recognized the sleazeball.
"Evening Skazz. Can I help you with something?" the false bravado he'd attempted to put in his voice was undercut by his weakened tone. Skazz smiled and then held up a stun gun.
"Jayboy, long time no see. John wants a word and sent me to get you so, play nice and come with?"
While Skazz spoke Jason tried to see who was restraining him, but every time he started to turn he was forced forward. His head swam as his body longed to rest. Something hard and cold was pressed against his chin and Jason's eyes shot open. He'd passed out without knowing. He was in bad shape and knew it was only going to get worse.
The barrel of the stun gun was pulled away and Skazz scoffed, "Can't even keep your eyes open, how sad. Tell you what, take a nap."
Jason turned back just in time to see the muzzle flash. He felt an explosion of pain across his chest his vision went white and he slipped into unconsciousness, but as quickly as his sweet release came, it vanished. The hash smell of ammonia set his sinuses on fire and brought his mind into reality. Everything hurt, his right eye had swollen shut and the laceration on his cheek hung open like a sadistic smile. He was lying face down on the cold permacrete floor. A quick glance around told him Skazz and mystery thug number two had backed off for the moment.
He did a quick mental check on his extremities and found himself to be in great pain, but luckily nothing was broken. The sound of footfall echoing off the surrounding empty room encouraged Jason to stand. He got to his feet and surveyed the area. The room was dark, but Jason could feel his eyes adjusting to the low light. He was close to the center of what seemed to be the inside of a warehouse. There were no auxiliary doors or hallways except for a single path directly in front of him. The footfalls continued to get louder until Jason could just make out the silhouette of the figure from which the sound emanated. When the figure was two meters away they stopped. Suddenly, light burst forth from behind the figure obscuring Jason's vision and shrouding the visage of the figure in shadow.
"You ready to kill me yet, boy?" asked the terror-inducing gravelly voice of John Cordro.
Jason's fear evaporated faster than rain in a desert. A hundred expressions chased each other across his face until the emotion of wrath stepped up to bat.
"I've been ready."
"You're not ready. You're weak."
"That's not what you asked. I may not be able to kill you, but I'm ready to. I want to watch the life flee from your eyes as I wrench the air from your lungs. I want you to hurt. I want you to suffer as I have suffered."
John smiled.
"Survive tonight then come find me and when you find me bring that fire, boy, 'cause I won't be ready to die."
Jason frowned.
"Survive tonight?"
John laughed.
"You gotta walk in my shoes if you're gonna kill me. This is your initiation. "
John spread his arms wide casting a demonic shadow across the pale gray floor. Jason's jaw clenched and his fists followed suit.
"Let's get on with it. I've got to be at work by 0700."
John bellowed with laughter and called out, "Well you heard him, fellas, he's got work in the morning so, let's not waste his time. Welcome him to the family."
John turned on his heel and laughed menacingly as he made his exit. Thugs of varying size filed in. There was nothing he could do. He couldn't run, he couldn't fight, he couldn't cry, all he could do was accept his fate.
"Well?"
Like the final support in a crumbling building, the cartel thugs fell on him with unrelenting force. Jason came in and out of the beating. Some used knuckledusters, some used pipes, some just threw hands, most hit their mark, but all took a swing. Jason wasn't sure when he finally passed out, but he was sure it was rather early on in the attack. He hadn't fought back, he'd just covered his vitals and waited for it to be over. His dreams were twisted nightmares plagued by John's menacing laugh. A small hum gently tugged him into consciousness.
As soon as he was awake he longed for sleep. His whole body was wracked with pain and he was sure there were numerous broken bones. His face felt like a balloon ready to pop, and every breath he took resulted in a severe burning sensation that he was sure signified broken ribs. The soft vibration hummed again and he realized it was his comlink.
Jason reached into his pocket and looked at the device. His alarm was going off. He had an hour to get to work. Jason let out a long painful sigh and arduously pushed himself up. His muscles ached with soreness and he wasn't sure what had hurt him more, surviving the explosion at his apartment or the vicious beating.
The room around him returned to the solace of darkness. His eyes adjusted quickly as the fogginess in his mind receded. Unfortunately, as the fog cleared the pain increased. His attention was brought to something by his feet and he frowned. A pistol, comlink, and key were purposefully positioned where he'd find them. He gingerly turned his body so he could better see the items and realized there was a message on the comlink.
Welcome to the family. We'll be in touch. Enjoy the speeder.
Jason looked at the key and put two and two together. There was no mention of the gun, but as he picked it up to examine he realized there was an engraving on the side of the barrel that read, "Come get me if you can." The wrath he'd felt before returned, and it burned through him like a wildfire. Jason was resolute in his life's purpose and with his weapon he'd been ordained for one task and one task only. Kill John Cordro.
"Oh, I'm coming, old man, and I'm bringing hell with me."
-
"Cunning as a thief, caring as a saint."
Imagine being blessed with a supernatural ability, that allows you to understand the emotions of those around and then imagine what it would be like to watch a loved one die. That's the mentality I'm developing in Jason upon his introduction into the story. This anger is only the tip of the iceberg for Jason's personality. In order to understand him fully as a character, you need to understand the three main aspects of his psyche: his father, his mother and himself. From a childhood filled with verbal and physical abuse to the slow decay of his mother, that's the existence he was given and instead of becoming the monster his father is, Jason, seeks to overcome his tragic life and become something worthwhile to the universe. He doesn't want to be some street urchin swept under the rug.... he wants to matter.
John Cordro was a ruthless abuser and constant terror in Jason's childhood. While Jason refuses to admit it, he's a lot like his father. John and Jason share a charisma people are drawn too, but where John uses his to manipulate, Jason cultivates. Another merit handed down from father to son was a short temper. Anger has always been an easy emotion for Jason to identify and understand. At times he almost feels as if the emotion itself is calling to him, but he's never given into its call. Finally, to Jason's dismay, he is a spitting image of his old man right down to the crooked grin. For Jason even looking in the mirror is a reminder of the man who tormented him. Luckily, his mother's love acts as the yin to his father's yang.
Mari represented everything good in Jason's life and because of that he fiercely loved his mother. When she fell ill he dropped out of school and picked up odd jobs to help pay for her wellbeing, but in the end, it just wasn't enough. While she was still able Mari taught Jason all she knew of their ability. She also taught him how to care for others. Even in her weakened state, Mari loved people. She was nearly altruistic in her caring and her example still resonates with her son to this day. Unfortunately, these emotions are buried under years of repressed anger, only manifesting in dire situations. The light is easily shrouded by shadow for Jason. Life has taught him to expect disappointment and to always be prepared for the worst.
The love of his mother and the weight of his father's sin has shaped Jason into a mature and stoic young man. He's quite and rarely socializes with other's his age. He's sardonic, indignant, flippant, angsty, and charming all at the same time. As an empath, he's grown up understanding emotions in an almost complete way. He's no supreme emotion reading super dude, but he's got a very firm grasp on the emotions of weak minded beings and those he's able to study for a period of time. As a whole, Jason is an incredibly flawed kid, but for what life's dealt he's not doing half bad on his own. Over the course of his story, I hope to explore his flaws and eventually have him grow from them in a meaningful way.
Currently, Jason is pissed off. His mother's death is still very fresh in his mind and his father's betrayal has awakened a rage within him he doesn't quite understand. Jason can feel that something has changed inside him, but he has no idea what it is. His only goal right now is to find his father and put him in the ground. Revenge guides his steps and unless something changes dramatically, Jason may very well find himself following in his father's footsteps. -
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"Who me? I got tabs, on tabs, on tabs."
_There's nothing you could have done, Luke, had you been there. You'd have been killed, too, and the droids would be in the hands of the Empire. I want to come with you to Alderaan. There's nothing here for me now. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my father. Mos Eisley Spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious. How long have you had these droids? About three or four seasons. They're for sale if you want them.
_There's nothing you could have done, Luke, had you been there. You'd have been killed, too, and the droids would be in the hands of the Empire. I want to come with you to Alderaan. There's nothing here for me now. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my father. Mos Eisley Spaceport. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious. How long have you had these droids? About three or four seasons. They're for sale if you want them. -
THREAD TRACKER
"Most of this, I dream of forgetting..."
Making a Name1. Fate
2. Psychic Magnetism
3. Whiskey Sour
4. Man Down
5. Debt & Sabotage
6. Reunion
@Aberforth
@Phoenix
@Raydo
@TwoSidedHeart
@Shalken
@Dread
✍
✍
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✍
✍
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A Mother's Gift1. Thread Title
2. Thread Title
3. Thread Title
Participants
Participants
Participants
✍
His Father's Son1. Thread Title
2. Thread Title
3. Thread Title
Participants
Participants
Participants
✍
— Completed— ✍— In progress— — Failed/Incomplete
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