FACTION: Currently Independent (will hopefully be a member of a faction through RP)
RANK: Unknown nobody/Smuggler
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes (unaware)
HAIR COLOR: Brown
EYE COLOR: Hazel grey
Hailing from Corellia, Arctus was a full-time smuggler and former spice addict.
"My Dad hates me, and I never even knew why. Generic sob story, I know."
The eldest among four children, Arctus was taught responsibility by his mother at a young age. It was his task to look after his younger brothers (triplets) while she was managing the small diner her father passed down to her. While other kids his age might complain about the setting, Arctus was more than pleased with the arrangement – he loved his little brothers dearly, and understood that their mother might be too busy to look after them but she was working hard so she could provide for her beloved children.
His father was a Marine and an ace pilot. He was rarely at home, and would always spend his time expressing his disappointment in his eldest child and beating him whenever he could. Arctus did not know the cause for his father's displeasure towards him, and his mother would not say. There had been rumors that Arctus was not his father's legitimate son but a wandering space wizard's, but he knew not to listen to gossip exchanged by old people flitting about their diner – adults were not to be trusted except for his Mom and, despite the beatings and displeasure, his Dad.
(But there were gossips founded on fact, right?)
Arctus was twelve when his parents separated. He knew that he was the cause – his father had gone a little overboard with his demeaning words and beatings, prompting the twelve year-old to retaliate in a way both of them never expected. Arctus, in an attempt to shield himself from his father's fists, had lifted a hand to push the offending hand away but ended up channeling the Force – something none of them were aware he was a sensitive – and used it unconsciously to shove the older male flat on his back. Eyes shut tight, Arctus never saw what he had done, and was duly surprised when his father turned tail and ran. His old man never went home after the incident, and his mother only received a message that they will never hear from his dad again.
"Let's get down to business, lads, shall we?"
Arctus was eighteen when he decided to move out of their home to live on his own. He fell into bad crowd, got influenced by his so-called friends to try partaking in spice, and got himself addicted rather quickly. It took him away from his studies – and ended up committing small-time theft, soon followed by armed robbery. He was twenty when he got into smuggling illegal goods for the local gang, and would often send the majority of his earnings to his mother's account. It was easy to lie where he got the creds, knowing she'd believe him because – he was glad she had no idea that he was spiralling down into the Underworld's gaping maw – when did he ever let her down?
Being a smuggler felt like a huge "Feck you!" to his father, his job, and his reputation, Arctus thought, and he enjoyed it. Served the old man right for beating up a defenseless kid and repeatedly telling said kid that he only existed to be a disappointment to the galaxy.
Arctus remained ignorant of his Force-sensitivity and had no idea that it was the Force that guided him out of trouble and not his intuition. He would have a feeling that a certain offer might have been a bust, or that the person he was talking to could possibly be lying – some warnings came from the Force but he always chalked it up to his keen intuition, because how else would he know? He was not a space wizard, for feck's sakes, nor could he use weird space magic!
Despite having worked as a smuggler for years, Arctus still felt as if every new job was his first rodeo. But his employers have known him to be good with his craft in spite of his... not so stellar behavior and work etiquette. But Arctus loved his job – it was through smuggling that he met the one person outside of his family (minus his dad, of course) who bothered to help him and looked after his delirious arse after getting tangled with some crazy skilled bandits during a job on Tatooine.
A female Mandalorian, clad in grey armor and a cute sight to behold in her small stature. Arctus still had the jagged scar across his right arm to remind him of how much he owed her his life.
Arctus had been under the influence of spice when he had been ambushed by the bandits on his way to Mos Espa. His speeder struck down, he was left to figh eight against one in the darkness, his senses too dulled by substance abuse so it was only natural that he got banged up pretty badly. A stab wound on his left side. A huge cut on his right arm. A blaster bolt to his right thigh. Count all the bruises as well and you'd get a dead man once the twin suns of Tatooine rose from the horizon.
If it weren't for the Mandalorian, he'd already be dead.
Arctus had been too dazed to realize that his assailants were being gunned down by the Mando from a distance. The bandits turned out to be her targets, having been employed by a marshal from Mos Espa to get rid of the scum who kept on killing and pillaging from foreign wayfarers making their way from the city to Mos Eisley and vice versa. And while he expected for the Mandalorian to just leave him, she surprised him by having her attend to his wounds. She even tried to fix his speeder, prompting them to spend the night in the desert while she worked and looked after him at the same time. Arctus felt indulged by the Mando who engaged him in conversation to make sure that he was still with her. When she failed to get his speeder working, she let him hitch a ride on the speeder bike her employer had lent her. The Mando had been too kind to get him to a medbay in Mos Espa and even stayed for another two days in the city to make sure that he was recovering. By the third day the Mando had left, but not without leaving him a message to stay alive.
The meeting had been a turning point for thirty year-old Arctus. Using the Mandalorian as inspiration, he promised himself that he would get rid of his addiction and focus more on his job. He didn't need that kind of distraction ever again, no sir.
Arctus was currently still operating as a smuggler, and in search of the Mandalorian whom he owed his life to.
PERSONALITY AND ATTRIBUTES
Considered unstable by some, Arctus' demeanor shifts from manic to depressed at the drop of a hat. He is a happy-go-lucky type of guy, and rather talkative even towards total strangers – but that doesn't mean that he loves the sound of his own voice. In his own words, talking helps him drown the voices of utter disappointment that keep eating at and nagging him into depression. This stems from leading a tough life as a kid, often getting yelled at and beaten by an ace pilot father who is rarely ever at home. For that very same reason, Arctus acts in false overconfidence to bury the self-doubts and insecurities he has harbored in his boyhood days.
Surprisingly enough, Arctus is fond of children and will go beyond what is required of him to show them kindness, gentleness, and patience – feelings he rarely harbor towards adults (and only if said adults manage to earn a spot in a list of people he will trust with his life).
A shameless flirt, the smuggler will take full advantage of anyone who shows interest (amorous or otherwise) towards him. Arctus' opportunistic tendencies often blur the lines between morality and iniquity, something he holds little regard for whenever he is feeling particularly cruel. He switches from lost sheep to wolf in sheep's clothing depending on the situation or person he engages with. He can also be very manipulative of those gullible enough to believe in any fake sob story he can conjure to perfectly portray the "handsome but troubled man" persona he usually employs whenever he's on a job or in a sticky situation. But beneath all these personality traits, Arctus is just one sensitive man-child who thinks he deserves to love and be loved. Poor bastard.
Arctus fancies himself a real smooth talker, using both words and his good looks to persuade people into agreeing with him in any situation – although these don't usually work on those who aren't easily tricked. He is a decent brawler, often employing his so-called street-style fighting (no finesse, underhanded tactics, and with absolute zero regards of the finer martial art styles). A dab hand at a blaster, but sucks when it comes to weapon maintenance. He can be pretty quick for his height and size, but these traits – paired with his big mouth – are his downfall when it comes to stealth. Arctus boasts about his stamina, both in undertaking any form of physical activity and... other such context. An impatient man by nature, he seldom keeps to one place and is always itching to rush headfirst into whatever situation he finds himself into.
The smuggler is street-smart, but his overall intellect (which can be considered as above average) is hampered by his manic and obsessive streak. He understands and speaks Galactic Basic, Huttese (but only the filthy and curse words), Tusken (surprisingly), and four words and a single phrase in Mando'a (namely mesh'la, cyar'ika, cyar, riduur, and ni kar'tayl gar darasuum). His mechanic skills – from ship repairs to small gadgets and droids – are pretty average. He is a decent pilot, but considers himself subpar compared to even those who can't even fly a ship. A former spice addict, Arctus still struggles with keeping himself clean and will partake in the substance whenever he feels anxious.
Arctus is Force-sensitive, but is largely unaware of the fact. So far, he had only displayed a physical use of the Force when he was twelve (pushing his father away from him). Whenever the Force warns him of impending danger and people lying to him, he simply chalks it up to the intuition sharpened by his years of leading a criminal life.
Armor — 1 Blast Vest
Weapon — 2 DL-18 Blaster Pistols
Weapon — 1 Vibroblade
Weapon — 1 A280 Blaster Rifle
Ship – 3-Z Light Freighter
Misc. — Commlink
— Utility belt
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