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- Jan 28, 2016
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Gellart Creed
Hutt Cartel △ Basadi △ Slicer △ Level 1
Ord Antalaha △ Human △ Male △ 26 △ Non-Force Sensitive
Aidan Turner △ Theme
Character Information
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With ragged black hair, downcast demeanour and slouched gait, Gellart is instantly recognizable as a man who has known defeat many times over. Life has taken this person and thrown him to the wolves, and kicks him back in just before he manages to escape. His dark eyes alone refuse to accept this fate, simmering deeply beneath his furrowed brow. Adding to his dejected and downtrodden appearance is his entirely cybernetic right arm, all the way up to the shoulder.
Despite his occupation and circumstances, Gellart manages to keep a semblance of cleanliness, only letting his stubble grow so much before he shaves. He keeps his clothing and armour as presentable as he can, but oil and chemical stains don’t always come out.
Gellart is quite often very vocal about his pessimism, typically in the form of biting sarcasm, profanities, or just simply harsh complaints and criticism. However, he is smart enough to know when to keep his mouth shut, but that certainly doesn’t stop him from scowling and continuing his tirade mentally.
While many knuckleheaded goons are usually waving about their knives and grog, bragging about their feats in combat, Gellart is instead muttering to himself off in a corner somewhere while tinkering with his weapons and sorting through parts and scraps he’s picked up on his latest outing.
In spite of the tragedies he’s faced, Gellart refuses to be overcome by them, spitting in the face of destiny. If he’s neck-deep in the floodwaters of misfortune, he is sure to keep buggering on with his head held high nonetheless. -
Some time near the end of the Civil War, there stood a shop in the suburbs of Nar Shaddaa. This quaint little shop wasn’t particularly flashy or grand, or even very large. It was simply that: quaint. It was started by a young man by the name of Gellart Creed who didn’t care for wealth or fame. All he had to his name was a pack of tools, his father’s trusty handgun, and a dream that one day he would set up his own droid repair shop. And that’s what he did, albeit with the help of a five-thousand-credit loan from Miwa the Hutt, promising to pay ten thousand in return. For many years, Gellart happily tinkered away and fiddled with robots and drones of all shapes and sizes without a worry in the world. He wasn’t making a vast amount of credits, but the work was steady and he was content.
But nothing good ever lasts for long.
One day, Gellart had been working on an experimental power cell in the garage. While taking out the trash, the contraption somehow detonated, incinerating everything inside the shop and engulfing it in a raging inferno. Gellart was outside the garage and thus escaped death, but even still his right arm was so badly burned it had to be amputated.
Part of Gellart’s soul died with that little shop, and he has never been the same since. After Gellart paid for his cybernetic arm and medical expenses, all his money was gone. Still owing a great deal of money to Miwa, out of a job and practically bankrupt, he had no choice but to join the Cartel until his debt was paid.
That was three months ago, and not much has changed. He still holds dear his dream to re-start his little droid repair shop, but that goal seems to grow more and more distant every day. -
Gellart is very down-to-earth, not a stranger to the hardships of life. He built for himself the career he always dreamed of, only to have it ripped away from underneath him and leaving him nothing to show for it. He firmly disbelieves in any idea of “fate” or “destiny”, and even questions the beliefs and practices of those that dabble in the Force. He refuses to believe that people’s existence could possibly be pre-ordained or that anyone has an ultimate purpose or goal. Life to him is a game of survival; it’s cruel and heartless, taking away from people that are content and pummeling them into the dirt simply because it can.
Very few things surprise Gellart. He is cynical, pessimistic, and apathetic in the extreme. He rarely trusts anyone and he definitely won’t go out of his way to offer help, mostly because he believes there is nothing that he can offer, and that if he did it wouldn’t really help much anyway. He certainly does not make friends easily because of this, but he doesn’t really give a damn.
Gellart despises the Hutts, thinking them to be stuck-up, greedy, and selfish. His opinion of the Exiles and Jedi is little better, as he finds the former haughty and unnecessarily cruel, and the latter stuck-up self-righteous bigots.
Ultimately, Gellart only serves the Cartel because he has nowhere else to go, and will get out as soon as he can. He does not share the greedy enthusiasm of his fellow soldiers and only works alongside them because he must.
Gellart is a tinkerer at heart, and all he ever wanted in the world was to set up his own personal shop where he could fix and sell droids for a living. He is extremely bitter that he was forced to work for the Hutts due to the accident that destroyed his entire livelihood and ruined his right arm. Even though he doesn’t have access to all the parts he wants in the Cartel, he can often be found tinkering with his own gear and whatever other scraps he can find. -
Gellart never planned to join the Cartel, so he is only in moderate physical condition. However, knowing he’ll need to defend himself at some point, he has begun some fitness and combat training. The same goes for marksmanship — he is certainly no sharpshooter by any stretch, but has forced himself to learn out of necessity. While he hates his new arm, he cannot deny that it is slightly beneficial in this regard, being a tad steadier than a regular arm.
His primary field of expertise lies in his knowledge of robotics. He knows drone and droid programming like the back of his hand, and by extension electronics are second nature to him.
One of his greatest strengths is his innate ability to improvise. Perhaps he was born with it, or maybe it’s because of his experience with plain bad luck. Whatever the case, Gellart can make basically anything out of practically everything.
△ △ △
△ A cheap, second-hand set of Outrider armour.
△ A tossed-aside A-45 he repaired.
△ He carries his father’s antique 4-C blaster, Quicksilver.
△ A communicator, compact toolkit, and emergency trauma pack. - Having not been selected for the Boonta’s Eve tournament, Gellart visited the Reeking Reek cantina to watch the tournament and enjoy free drinks. Just as the first round ended, however, he was called in to work and was forced to leave before the next round could begin.
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