gp5
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Jun 28, 2018
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NAME: Idris Dak’Eeth. (eh-driss dawk-eth)
AGE: 24.
SPECIES: Zabrak.
FACTION: The Hutt Cartel.
RANK: Smuggler.
HEIGHT: 6'0
WEIGHT: 176'
HAIR COLOR: Black.
EYE COLOR: Green.
FORCE: Yes. (untrained)
Level 1.
AGE: 24.
SPECIES: Zabrak.
FACTION: The Hutt Cartel.
RANK: Smuggler.
HEIGHT: 6'0
WEIGHT: 176'
HAIR COLOR: Black.
EYE COLOR: Green.
FORCE: Yes. (untrained)
Level 1.
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Idris Dak’eeth was born on his home-planet, Iridonia, belonging to a human mother and Iridonian father. Cross breeding from his parents led him to have physical, and physiological differences that were obvious at birth. He was able to grow hair on-top of his head, unlike his clan members, yet had no claws or pheromones to distinguish him as his father's child. Therefore, the clan matriarch shunned his birth, and held a Kal’dralu Selenor for his father to participate in. Though the guilty party won, (his father’s) the distaste for his mate and child still ran deep into the veins of the clan.
This led to Idris growing as a child who lingered inside, perferring to help his mother with chores rather than participate in horseplay with the other children.
When he began the process of puberty, at an age of 10 years old, many believed he wouldn’t grow his horns, (orat) due to him taking after his mother’s genes more than his father’s. However, when the budding indication of horns began to build beneath his skin, his father grew hope for his son.
When the time arrived, he, like the other clan children, were put into the Res Selenoren. The first challenge, a mental solitary, was one he passed easily. Time with his mother lead to lessons of both Zabrak and Human culture. The second however, a physical challenge, was what worried both his father and mother. Death was common, and knowing their son, a boy who rarely cared for physical activity, feared of his capability. When he was sent off to kill a beast larger than himself, the couple could only watch in silence.
With hours passed, the boy returned, exhausted yet holding the head of a Triz in both palms.
The rising festival commenced, and Idris got the honor of his tattoos. After that, he grew to 17 in his clan, before taking the initiative and leaving. With a farewell to the members, and his mother (who had taught him english) he left Iridonia.
Words of hostility between Sith and Jedi were whispered among his clan before his leaving, and with no intention to be involved, Idris took a ship and instead found himself directly on route towards the Hutts.
Upon landing, he only had so much to take in, the devoid planet of warmth and sand, before being directed towards a employer that promised to give him a job. The man, who he's long forgotten, told him of charm and a weapon that could shoot. Taken as a apprentice, Idris learned to execute a blaster (with a good aim) and manipulate the dirty corners of every business possible.
Years later, involved with a business scat gone wrong, the man had been murdered, and Idris fled. Taking their (well, now his) ship, he kept taking jobs for the hutts, and still to this day continues.
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Dak’eeth has the appearance of a virtuous young man, easily distinguished as so from his angular body and open palm, ready for a hand-shake. Compared to his race, who are strong-headed and broad, intimidating, he acts entirely friendly. First impressions with Idris lead to good feelings; his approachable smile and clever tongue worming into a consequence someone will associate with him: harmless.
Though his image doesn’t look entirely friendly, (maybe one that’ll steal the dancer from your Cantina booth) his attitude certainly does.
Idris stands at 6’0, sporting a torso of lean (not majorly defined) muscle and all sharp-cornered lines. His whole body is rigid and straight, well-bred and trained to represent the function of a well oiled machine. His arms, which are the sturdiest part of his body, claim responsibility for the work that his job requires. Idris is a hard-worker, as his race subdues, and he doesn’t hesitate to crow about it.
He has a oblong, but not languid, face with a defined chin. A sturdy jaw line supports his demeanor, angular cheekbones outlined to give him a rugged, yet chiseled look. His green eyes are carnal and evenly spaced apart, sitting below constantly furrowed eyebrows that seem to twitch and jump at everything around them.
An essential extension of his defined nose curves over his flushed lips, in a consistent neutrality unless presented with someone he can coax, (which will then turn into a smile of all teeth.) Black supple hair, made greasy from a habit of running his hand through, hangs slicked back, lubricated with engine oil (or whatever gelatin substance he can find.) At the sides of his head is where his hair is shaved, carefully directed to shear over the temple and curve of his ear, before following to the back of his neck.
2 small curled horns sit on the sides of his forehead, while the other 2 linger beneath them, twisted outward and into the roots of his hair.
His skin color, which is a deeply rooted red, like that of the heart of a binary sunset, is colored over his whole body. The palms and soles of his feet are a bit lighter in the murky crimson, but there all the same. His most defining feature (other than his good looks) are the black tribal tattoos that map his whole body. The ones upon his face and neck, which is called Jat’o, trace along every delineating feature. They first crawl up his neck, rearing behind his ears before splitting in two. The first line, which traces the ends of his horns, disappear into his hairline before creating two smaller lines down his forehead. The second line stalks downwards, outlining the gaunt cheekbones, then breaking off before starting again at the arch of his eyebrow and filling in his upper-lids. One tattoo, which is different than the other, narrows into a thin curve, following the bottom of his eyelid before pulling down; making him appear as if he was crying a single, jagged black wire.
A filled in dip is colored beneath his bottom lip, two others similar yet streaming down his chin and neck, disappearing beneath his clothesline.
He moves as a soldier would, gaze straight and back held high. However, in his work, smuggling countless ‘goods,’ he coils and slinks like a serpent, because after all, this man has a secret to hide.
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Idris is an adept manipulator, a rogue smuggler who works for the currency and nothing more. He is a tall but lean man, an unassailable look of vigilance constantly on his face. He prefers seclusion and nonchalance on his ship, but that easily changes when space-travel is a constant necessity. His talents rely on his blaster and tongue, but he would much rather evade enemies altogether.
A common smile will always be found on his face when in company, acting reliable and dependable until finding an advantage he knows he can take. He always puts himself first, that’s how he’s survived by himself for so long, and he would never attempt to put his neck on the line. Rather, he’s careful with what he says, and that’s how he’s been so keen on staying alive. He would never purposely make an enemy, avoids it as much as he can actually, and never trusts anyone. He’s had his fair share of scams (mostly operated from him) by those who’ve trusted too easily, and those who do are foolish, especially towards him.
When in solitude of the captains chair, his attitude changes completely. His sly demeanor switches into an amused hum of statistics and destination points, aimed towards a contract where he can deliver cargo. (whatever it may be.) Though he doesn’t necessarily agree with some of the things he conveys on the ship, it’s a job, and the only job he has. And the independence of completing a job is one he knows far too well.
Due to this, Idris has a fierce determination and arrogance. No matter the odds, he’ll try to find a way, and usually with that, comes his luck. He doesn’t consider any challenge impossible, and he looks down on those who fear defeat. His mental prowess demands an intense drive to excel, no matter what it may be. He will do any means necessary to achieve his goals.
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GEAR:
weapon— 4c blaster pistol. ● LINK
ROLEPLAYS:
N/A
RELATIONSHIPS:
N/A
SKILLS:
- Piloting. After the man who taught him the life of a smuggler died, he learned (slowly but surely) on how to drive his ship.
- Manipulating. If he gets himself in a bad situation, he'll know how to get out of it. and if not, his blaster is always helpful.
- Shooting a blaster pistol.
ATTRIBUTES:
The zabrak come with several genetic skills that have promoted their species through the harsh environment that once was Iridonia. Their earliest physical attributes include horns, which can cut through flesh and bone, claws, fangs, nocturnal habits, and pain tolerance. However, Idris is not one to acquire these characteristics. Inheriting his mother’s genes more so than his father's, Idris is more human than Zabrak. The only thing that can be considered a oddity is his horns and skin color. Due to this, and his lack of pheremones, Idris is (about) as normal as any human could be.
However, he does have two hearts, (which is highly resistant to poisons & toxins,) and temperature complications. Like his race implies, they have a significant resistance to heat and humidity, however, they can not stand the cold. Very quickly they can freeze to death. Due to a lack of inheriting these certain qualities, and only obtaining some, Idris has poor health. His immune system is weak, compared to the rest of his body, and this causes him to get sick rather quickly.
The only thing that he can be proud of is his aim, which is usually a lucky shot.
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