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- Aug 10, 2013
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NAME: Konrad Bralor
FACTION: Clan Bralor
RANK: none
SPECIES: Falleen
AGE: 65
GENDER: Male
HEIGHT: 6' 3"
WEIGHT: 200 lbs
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Black, tied in a topknot
SKIN: Red, can be changed to green.
CREDITS: 1,000
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: None visible, several scars about his chest and arms.
FORCE SENSITIVE: No
STRENGTH: He is strong, but that is not his primary means of winning a battle, his true strength lies in how he delivers quick, direct, attacks before retreating and attacking again.
DEXTERITY: He is fast, agile, and sure of his footing, he is quick with a blaster or a blade, though he is not the best at prolonged engagements or battles.
CONSTITUTION: He is hearty, being a young man for a Falleen, and has yet to really be hardened by battle and the clan's ways.
INTELLIGENCE: While Intelligent, it does not often show, for in order to be able to truly excel in his preferred method of fighting, one must know where and when to strike and how to strike in order to achieve the maximum effect.
WISDOM: He is impulsive, often brash, more interested in the quick kill. This is not often the wisest method in life, but he is too young to know better.
CHARISMA: He is charismatic, like most of his race, capable of using his pheromones to attract or repel others. He is not above using his pheromones to gain an edge over his opponents.
SKILLS:
Falleen pheromones
Basic knowledge of tactics, strategy, history, logistics and some psychology.
Quickdraw
Basic to intermediate swordsmanship, especilly with the saber or beskad.
Basic survival skills.
Can change skin pigmentation.
Armored fighting.
Pistol use- exceptional
Dirty fighting
Dual wielding
Jar'kai
Basic knife fighting
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
+ He is quite charismatic, and though untested as a leader, he is capable of being one someday.
+ Capable of manipulating people using his pheromones.
+ Fast and skilled with a blade and a pistol
- Impulsive, brash
- Untested and unproven
- Arrogant as is common in his species.
GEAR:
A pair of simple, unadorned vibroblades.
Pair of N-95 Zeus Pistols
SHIP:
None
PERSONALITY:
As a Falleen of rather high status birth, he can be arrogant and haughty, though his time trapped on Mandalore has changed much of that. It has taught him how to fight, how to stay alive and how to be tenacious in the pursuit of his goals. He will do whatever it takes to win, using force as well as subterfuge to achieve his goals, especially his use of his pheromones to manipulate those he faces.
BIOGRAPHY:
Born and raised on Coruscant in the heart of the galactic alliance, Konrad, if that even is his real name, is believed to have been a Falleen of high status, which would account for the reasons behind him having been trapped in Keldabe at the outset of the Mandalorian Claimant wars. What little else was known about him was lost in the destruction of Coruscant, since then sightings of him have been reported throughout the Mandalore Sector, including a few attempts at running the blockade, citing Imperial citizenship as a reason for leaving, he has not made it out of the sector since being trapped, though this is not perhaps by accident. Rumours have begun to reach our ears that he has "gone native," if you will. He has been seen hunting and making his way towards the domain of Clan Bralor. After his arrival at the Norg Bral, he has been seen studying the ways of the mandalorian people at the feet of the clan's elders. Reports are coming in that soon he will be taking his trial of adulthood, known locally as the Verd'goten. Once this happens, if he is able to pass it, he will be a full part of the clan, which could pose a serious problem should peace talks with the clans fall apart against our favor. We can expect his talents to bring him more in line as a shock trooper and bounty hunter. We expect him to pass his verd'goten before too long, if any action is to be taken, we should have it happen sooner rather than later, before he receives backing from a clan.
- From an unnamed Sith Intelligence agent to her higher-ups.
-----------------------------------------------1023 ABY-----------------------------------------------------------
The sheet of flimsi was pulled from his hands by the wind, and he was more than happy to sit there, watching it dance away on the wind. It was relaxing in an odd sort of way, the image on the paper his last connection to a life of privilege and luxury he had long since cast off behind him when he had been trapped in the Mandalore system by the outbreak of war. Or had he really been trapped there? Not even he knew anymore, and frankly, that was fine by him. He had grown to appreciate the strengths of these hearty people, and had even begun to strive to be one of them. Time spent in an active warzone had taught him much, mostly out of necessity. He had been taught to survive by the war, to do what it took to live and to fight another day. Perhaps that was what had drawn him out here, up to the frozen north of the Norg Bral.
With a soft sigh, he rose to his feet and made his way back from the edge of the cliff, this had been more than enough time spent lost in the past, he had work to do. Soon they would attack once more, he could see them massing for the assault far below, the combined fury of the clan arrayed against his new home, they would try to breach the walls once more, and all of the clan had been called upon to defend their home. He had gladly agreed, despite not being a clan member himself, at least not yet.
It had taken but a few minutes to grab his gear and to throw on the armor he had been given for his use in the coming battles, beskar'gam repainted by himself for just this purpose, black and gold, to match the armors of those who had them surrounded. Come the night, when the assault was to begin, he would slip out and make his way towards the enemy, hoping to begin hit and run attacks on the enemy in order to help break the siege that had so rattled his new home.
The darkness had come sooner than he had anticipated, sneaking up on him and the clan like a corellian sand panther as it tracked its prey, and with it, had come time for him to make his move. He had slipped into the dark, melding with it, making his way towards the enemy, which, considering the situation, was not too difficult, just head away from the fortress.
As the sounds of battle began, he continued away, making for the enemy lines, wondering just how he was going to get through and back towards their supplies, he would have to steal what he needed to complete his missions, after all. Suddenly, he stopped, hearing the crunch of the leaves and catching the sight of armor moving in the brush before him. He raised the Zeus pistol he had liberated as the inquiry crackled over his comms.
"Tion'cuy?"
"Ni cuyi Kad be Aliit Kom'rk, ni yaimpa teh tabalut." As he said the words, he let his body extrude the pheromones, hoping to use them to calm the sentries, letting them fall under his sway more easily. He had practiced his mando'a hoping to affect the appropriate accent of the clan he was trying to impersonate. And it seemed to have worked, barely, for without another word, the two sentries allowed him through. And he was in, at long last, his next step was to find and liberate a few supplies, perhaps a weapon that might replace his now holstered Zeus.
He blinked through the menus on the HUD of his visor, selecting the night vision menu and turning the damn things off, for by this point an artillery bombardment had begun in earnest. Things were not looking good at this time for the clan, large numbers of tanks and gunships were pouring fire at the clan's ancestral home, and while it was strong, it had seen much damage over the years of war, and without the beskar mines to provide the clan with the materials they needed to repair the fortress, Konrad knew they could not withstand much more. His primary mission could wait, he had more pressing concerns. After all, honor and glory meant nothing if you were dead.
He moved through the base of operations like a wraith, those dog-like creatures who were so good at stealth. He would become one of them, blending into the darkness and the shadows created by the ever increasing blasts of gunfire colliding with the walls of the fortress. He had a few options, none of them were preferable, he could take the tanks individually on the ground, risking dealing with the large number of ground forces arrayed against him, or he could attack from above, if he could make it to the nearest landing pad. Either one was certain death to be sure, the minute those tanks started being destroyed, he would be discovered and killed, but there was no other way.
He sighed under the helmet, and made his way towards the landing pad, hoping against all hope that there would be a ship, anything at all that he could use. As he made his way towards there, he had dispatched all those foes he could find, after all, the more he killed on the ground, hopefully the less he would encounter in the air.
It had taken him some time, but he made it there at last, hoisting himself up the ladder and onto the landing pad, with a sigh, he looked over the rather pathetic array of remaining gunships. Sadly, few had any armament more substantial than a couple heavy lasers. He cursed himself, and hoisted himself into a Kom'rk gunship, some refurbished model from the clone wars of old. It was slow, sluggish, and not very maneuverable, which had confirmed to him the grim reality of the situation.
The gunship was tight, and he frankly didn't know much about flying one of the karking things, but he could do enough to get it into the air and flying about. As he took off, he could see the blast bolts flying past him towards the fortress, the artillery not having been his priority at this time. He made his way towards the fortress following a plan of attack that seemed close enough to the rest, just fly at the fortress and blast away, however, as he reached speed he pulled back on the stick, causing him to completely invert, his direction now headed backwards, no shots fired, though he had hoped they would not notice. Slowly he made his way back towards the enemy ranks, finding the thickest concentration of forces and diving towards them, spraying blaster bolts at the tanks below, before pulling up for a second run. As he ascended back towards the height, he could feel the pressure waves of flak explosions in the air all about him. Dodging and weaving as best he could, he fought to keep control of the craft, though it was a losing battle. Suddenly an alarm sounded and the craft began to dive as it rocked, clearly some bolt had found it's mark, there was not much he could do now, he knew, not much but guide the craft to where the crash would do the most damage.
The ground was rushing towards him as he held the craft on course, hoping with all his might that the safety eject would work as he reached down, pulling up the lever, only to find it stuck, with a yell of frustration, he pulled up on the lever again, and could feel the sudden rush of the wind against him as the seat flew up into the sky, boosters on the underside propelling him away from the crash below as the ship collided with the enemy tanks below. The seat flew towards the ground, a small parachute deploying to slow him down, at least just a bit. Mandalorians weren't big on lots of fancy safety features, they tended to make people weak and reliant. The ground rushed towards him, growing closer and closer before the world went black with a thud.
Roleplays:
New Home, Old Heart
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