- Joined
- Aug 17, 2016
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DEEN
SPECIES: Human
GENDER: Male
ORIENTATION: Heterosexual
AGE: 18
HEIGHT: 6'5"
WEIGHT: 180 lbsNAME: Deen Jacmin
FACTION: Jedi Knights
RANK: Jedi Padawan
HOMEWORLD: Dantooine
FORCE-SENSITIVE: Yes
PERSONALITY
In the field Deen can be impatient and rash at times, but his relative inexperience and lack of skills counter his pride in these serious situations so he stays behind superiors as much as possible. He attempts to avoid anything that makes him look bad, so he often refrains from using his Force abilities or lightsaber, instead depending on his own physicality and his aim with a blaster pistol.
Deen stays with the Jedi Order to repay the debt he feels he owes them. When the Jedi rescued him from Dantooine as a child, he pledged his life to repaying what he owed to the galaxy. He aims to rise as far in the Order as he can and use that power to help children on remote planets throughout the galaxy reach their potential, just as the Jedi helped him.
APPEARANCE
SKILLS AND ABILITIES
BIOGRAPHY
Any and all shortcuts he could find he would take, leaving shoddy repair jobs, poorly kept materials and a less than perfect relationship between his long suffering parents and him. When the boy realised he could lift small objects with his mind, he quickly found ways of adapting this power to lower his work rate further. Gone were the days of heavy lifting to fix that wheel back to the cart, or breaking his back cleaning out the grindstone, he could now complete these tasks simply by concentrating on the objects. The boy was returning home from the village one day when the cart hit a large pothole in the middle of the path. The left wheel spun off and the boy was thrown clear out, landing a foot or two off the path. The mother wasn't so lucky. She fell to the floor with a sickening crunch, but the cart kept travelling, splintering under its own weight and crushing her underneath.
The father was never the same. Drinking and beatings became regular as he struggled to deal with the extra workload on top of the grief of losing his true love. The boy's work rate increased under the threat of the father's lashings, but his attitude hardly changed, so the mill fell into a sorry state of repair. Whenever the father found his son slacking off he would respond in the only way he knew worked: violence. One day the boy walked into the kitchen to a pile of empty flasks, the smell of cheap alcohol and the father. As soon as he made eye contact he recognised the drunken fury on his father's face and started to back off, but he tripped on a crate of tools behind him and fell, cutting his right palm in the process. The father grabbed him by his collar and raised a hand to strike him. The boy recoiled back and waited for that sharp sting, but it never came.
He peaked open his eyes and the father was frozen in place, confusion blending with anger. Suddenly the boy was dropped and the father shot backwards across the room, hitting his head on the corner of a cabinet and without another thought the boy sprinted outside, towards the village, towards the nearest city, just away from that mill. Rumour spreads through a small town like flames through a forest and soon everyone knew about the runaway from the father's mill. Some said he burned the mill to the ground when he left; others said he killed his own father with his bare hands; others suggested he was a Sith agent, working undercover on Dantooine. The boy made his way to the starport nearest his village. He was hungry, dirty and scared, sleeping on the streets and fighting off Kath hounds for scraps of food. He would sit and watch the people that walked by, pleading for loose change or bits of food, dreaming of that time long ago when he would stay up late to watch the stars glistening overhead, while he drifted off to sleep.
That night the boy dreamed of Jedi. He was woken by a sharp smell of the sea and a wet feeling on his face. As he came to his senses, he almost gagged at the sharp smell of this man standing above him. His oily skin was a deep salmon colour under his dark hood and his wet fingers touched the boy's face. "Shhh... Come with me..." The boy instantly trusted this mysterious figure and allowed himself to be picked up in his half-asleep state. As he rose he noticed a shimmer on the man's hip. The moonlight danced across the metal cylinder and the boy gasped softly. A lightsaber! His mind raced back to the stories he was told as a boy. He had dreamed of this before, but never in so much detail and clarity. He blacked out, returning to his natural sleep and that was the night Deen Jacmin left Dantooine forever. The next years of his life were a blur, split between simple lessons of language and mathematics, and intense programs learning philosophy, Jedi code and the Force. While dull, this time spent in the warm indoors was far superior to the mundane labour of Dantooine or living on the streets.
Deen was grateful for the man - who he could now identify as a Mon Calamari - and the compassion he showed, but he still wanted more. He wanted to master the Force, to wield a lightsaber, to fight the Sith, like all the old stories. It was only a couple of years later that he started on that side of his training and he quickly found it was not as romantic as he imagined. Lightsaber duels were ritualistic and dull, with training focussed on target points and posture; the Force was definitely not the superpower he envisaged, but instead an ambient presence, with its own ebb and flow, its own consciousness; and the Sith were a million miles away, leaving Deen sat in a temple meditating, rather than getting out into the galaxy and doing something proactive. Now he tries his very hardest to get on every excursion possible, every mission that allows Padawans and perhaps get a Master to further his chances of field work. Someday he'll be out there full time, helping people, fighting the Sith, just like the old stories.
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