Tzeentch
SWRP Writer
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"You know, I was always told that, with my potential, I could become one hell of a mercenary, or a soldier for the Galactic Alliance. Yet, I didn't care enough to pursue either occupation as I was satisfied with a simple life with my family on Coruscant.
That is, until they came along.."
NAME: Maximus Krolus Vulcan; "Max"
FACTION: Independent
RANK: N/A
CURRENT OCCUPATION: Mercenary
HOMEWORLD: Coruscant; Current planet of primary residence is Tatooine.
SPECIES: Human
AGE: 27 Standard Years
GENDER: M
HEIGHT: 5'11"
WEIGHT: 184lb
EYES: Blue
HAIR: Brown
SKIN: Light Tan
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Extensive scarring on upper torso.
FORCE SENSITIVE: Y*
ATTRIBUTES:
STRENGTH:
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ - Maximus is slightly stronger than the average human male and is more than capable in handling himself in hand-to-hand combat.
DEXTERITY:
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ - Maximus is by no means flexible or agile. However, he is swift in terms of speed when on foot, should he be without his combat armor.
CONSTITUTION:
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ - Making short-term residences on multiple less-than-hospitable planets while working as a mercenary, Maximus' body has reached a point where he has grown used to several types of extreme climates, particularly hotter ones. He also possesses a higher-than-average stamina.
INTELLIGENCE:
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ - The mind can be anyone's strongest weapon if properly utilized. Maximus is far from being the most intellectual mind the galaxy has ever seen, but he is always looking to expand his tactics and general knowledge.
WISDOM:
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ - Maximus is fairly wise when it comes to the application of combat tactics, whether it be his enemy's or his own, as well as his ability to learn about them. However, outside of military specializations, his knowledge lacks. Particularly when interacting with others.
CHARISMA:
ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ - While not a gregarious individual or a leader of men, Maximus has a basic handling of persuasion.
SKILLS:
Blaster Weaponry - Throughout his career as a mercenary, Maximus has honed his skills with most varieties of blaster weaponry. However, he is more proficient with blaster pistols and rifles than any other variant.
Close Combat - While not a master in fighting close quarters, Maximus has continuously improved his own style of combat to the point where it is a balanced style of attack and defense; he is capable of handling foes armed with weapons; bladed, blunt, etc.
Military Tactics - While Maximus has never received a proper education in tactical situations, he has learned enough during his years as a mercenary, through the guidance of other mercenaries or having to learn firsthand during a combat scenario. He is able to adjust his strategies mid-combat should the situation alter either in his favor or against him.
Languages - In order to effectively work as a mercenary, Maximus has learned a number of languages as to properly communicate with others, particularly potential clients.
Pilot - Maximus is capable of piloting small spacecraft with a fair amount of skill; this factor is primarily taken into consideration when he is piloting his own ship, the Desert Star.
Slicing - Maximus is able to slice into most forms of hackable technology. Although, as he is no professional in slicing, he is only able to do so there are only meager countermeasures at most.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
+ Adaptability
+ Tactical
+ Open-Minded in terms of the opinions of others
+/- Set in his beliefs
+/- Distrusts Force Users regardless of affiliation
- *Refuses to make use of his Force affinity due to a personal dogma.
GEAR:
Custom, Near-Military Grade Heavy Armor; "Tritanis MK I"
[Schematics] Tritanis is a heavy suit of armor designed to take punishment from weaker forms of blaster weaponry. However, continued damage to the same area will eventually nullify the armor's purpose. The suit is also equipped with a built-in life support system with a capacity of several hours and a tactical interface integrated into the helmet, of which can provide information during combat. The right gauntlet also possesses an eight-inch long, three-inch wide retractable vibro-blade, revealing itself from a compartment located on top of the forearm.
NOTE: The gauntlet can be used separately from the suit, allowing Maximus to carry it on his person.
DLT-20A Blaster Rifle
x2 DL-44 Heavy Blaster Pistols
1' 2" [9" Blade, 5" Hilt] Combat Knife
A number of explosives, consisting primarily of fragmentation grenades and thermal detonators.
SHIP:
The Desert Star
Maximus lost his first ship, the Desert Sky, after it suffered severe damage in a mission to remove pirate raiders from one of his employer's trade routes. He had hoped to have it repaired, but the craft was deemed scrap metal, as it wasn't simply the hull that took damage, but most of the ship's systems did as well. Finally accepting the fact that the ship could not be repaired, Maximus made use of a fair number of his contacts to find another ship on the black market on Nar Shaddaa.
Replacing the unique Desert Sky was a well-used YT-2400 Light Freighter, of which the mercenary named the Desert Star. The condition of the ship was fairly poor when he purchased it. Some minor components, and an escape pod, were missing or damaged, and several of the living quarters were, quote, "... in need to be vaporized and built from the ground up so that, one day, even a Hutt could pass by without being poisoned by the so called 'air.'" Unquote.
PERSONALITY:
The personality of Maximus is that of a laid-back individual who seems to want nothing more than to relax while looking up at the stars. He treats people with a great deal of respect, whether friend or foe, on or off the battlefield, if they have earned it; it can be earned through combat or intellectual prowess, as well as simply being a high-ranking official in the military or government. Overall, he appears to be a fairly kind and, sometimes, honorable man; he does not seem to take any contracts that may involve the killing of everyday civilians. However, as laid-back as he may seem, Maximus becomes serious when dealing with contracts, combat situations, and anything else that may require a professional demeanor of a mercenary.
Although, there does appear to be a quirk in his personality; whenever he is, knowingly, in the presence of a Force-Sensitive, or rather, a Force-User, Maximus displays a complete distrust and sometimes, slight resentment, towards the individual. However, he attempts to keep his own opinion to himself, especially if he is on the field with one as not to disrupt the mission. It does not stop him from internalizing the feeling, allowing those more sensitive to emotions to sense something.
BIOGRAPHY:
Chapter One: Under these Watchful Towers, I Fade
"So, have you decided what you wanted to do yet, son?"
I looked up from the trade ledger to look at my father, an old, gray haired man with a seemingly playful yet cunning pair of eyes, of whom always seemed to have a small smile on his face.
I scratched the side of my head, grinning a little, "I think I'll join you in the trading business. After all, from what ledgers I've read through, it seems easy enough even though it's extremely profitable." I nodded my head towards the ledger placed on the table in front of me, of which had information on minor trade deals made between my father and his clients.
The old man sighed and shook his head. He was still smiling, "I thought I told you that you'd be perfect in the Galactic Alliance's military, seeing as you're tougher than any other kid I've seen your age." He looked me in the eyes, a brow raised, "Why is it that you insist on becoming a trader such as myself? It isn't all fun and games y'know."
Shrugging, I leaned back in my chair, "Well, it's not like I have any real reason to join the military. I might as well do something that I might enjoy doing that doesn't necessarily put my life on the line constantly." My grin turned into a simple smile, "Although, I really just want to go out and see the galaxy really. I want to be able to go about wherever I desire, not be told to settle down on some backwards planet watching trees age."
My father looked at me with a stern expression for a couple of seconds. Then, he began to chuckle, "Heh, you still haven't changed your mind have you? How many times ha-"
"Forty-seven times now, Father."
". . . Bah! Kids these days, not wanting to join the military.." His chuckles grew in volume for a few moments before ceasing.
Five knocks on the door were heard.
My father looked away from me and over my shoulder to the front door of the apartment, "I wonder who could possibly be here at this time of night.." He stood and walked around the living room table and to the door. I turned in my seat to watch.
Knock, knock, knock. "Mr. Vulcan? Are you there? Hello?"
"Yes, yes, I'm coming!" The aging man opened the door.
I didn't recognize either of the two individuals who stood past the door's frame; one was dressed in what looked like casual clothing, only tougher and significantly worn. It was similar to the garb that I've seen some pilots wear at the spaceport.
The other figure was clothed in a hooded robe, his features hidden except the lower part of his face, of which had two scars going from his chin to his right cheek.
"Hello gentlemen. Is there something you need?" Judging from his reaction, my father didn't appear to know the two men.
The casual looking man was the one to speak, a thin smile stretched across his face, "Why, yes sir. We are looking for a Mr. Vulcan and heard that he lived here. Are you Mr. Vulcan?"
The man nodded in confirmation, "Indeed I am. Are you two here to request a trade deal of some sort?"
The stranger's smile grew as he chuckled, "Not quite, Mr. Vulcan. You see, a glint appeared from his sleeve, "We're here to complete a 'trade deal.'"
Somehow, my old man knew something I didn't, even before the blade was embedded into his side. When he shouted, I stood to get the blaster sitting not ten feet away on the self above the artificial fireplace.
That's when I felt a pain coming from my chest. It was a pain that I have never felt in my life; it was indescribable.
I fell to the ground, hearing nothing but my rapid heartbeat, feeling nothing but the burning sensation rippling from my chest, and seeing nothing but blurred figures, one with an arm outstretched and another with his feet off the ground.
As the last figure walked past towards the hallway, my vision sharpened, allowing me to see, from the corner of my eye, the still smoking blaster in his hand and the seemingly mad grin he had on his face.
The last thing I saw was the body suspended in air going limp and two red flashes.
I would never forget their features is what I vowed to myself, consciousness fading as darkness took hold.
I couldn't forget. . .
Chapter Two: Within these Light Filled Halls, I Vow
It would be a while before I was even allowed to step outside of the medical facility I woke up in a few days after the incident for some fresh air..
According to officials, it turned out that the two that came knocking on our door worked for some crime boss all the way from Nar Shaddaa; Ali Skur'kalos. Human. Female. Relatively young, yet ruthless and efficient. Small-time, yet fairly well-known but hard to find.
The two were partners.
Kallus Arcai. Human. Male. Smuggler and drug dealer; Death Sticks. Smart enough not to "test" his own merchandise. Quick trigger-finger. Precise. Overall insane.
"Fang." Human. Male. Rogue Force-user. Real name unknown. Unknown affiliation, if any. No known physical features except the two scars running from chin to cheek. Calm. Merciless.
I wouldn't have even remembered anything about them if it weren't for the news that they killed my family...
My father. An aging man about to ascend into his sixties, marking almost thirty years of trading, buying, selling. Stab wound to the left of his stomach. Throat crushed.
My mother. Younger than my father by about six to ten years. Stuck in bed with a fever. Numerous stab wounds to torso.
My little sisters. Twins. Neither ever reaching their fifth birthday. Blaster burns on their chests. Killed in their sleep.
I was angry.
Angry at the two that suddenly tore my life asunder.
Angry that I couldn't do anything to stop them.
Angry that, even with the rush of adrenaline, even if I had gotten the blaster, I may have still been useless, too afraid to pull the trigger.
Most of all, I was angry that I survived. . .
. . . I remembered the vow I made before I fell into unconsciousness. Not to forget their faces. Their features.
The day I woke up was the day I began to hold onto that vow, all while making a change in my goal in life, making it a very simple objective in concept, a nightmare in execution.
Find them.
Hunt them.
Kill them.
I vowed that day to become someone capable of tracking them down and taking them out while unrestricted by laws and rules that well organized military organizations had.
I vowed, by the scar that now rested upon my chest, over my still beating heart, to become a mercenary.
Chapter Three: Upon these Ever Shifting Dunes, I Dream
Home, Sweet Home
Home, Sweet Home
12 Years Later
Tatooine
Twelve years since then. I've honed my skills for twelve years now and I had continuously searched for them or their employer to no avail. I grew frustrated when I first set out, naive that I would find them without much effort and put them down.
My naivety died off quickly.
Life as a mercenary is nowhere near as glorious as children thought it might be. It was a brutal and unforgiving occupation, especially to those who grew cocky and found themselves on the receiving end of a hit given by one of their former employers.
Strangely, however, I adapted quickly to such a rough lifestyle. I was not sure if it was due to my dogma or if it was something my father seemed to notice long before I did when I was younger. I didn't care. I decided to embrace it, accepting that my role in the galaxy was to be that of a mercenary, hired to do the dirty work that others would not do themselves.
I felt.. comfortable with my new style of life. I liked it.
Although, even as I grew in skill and reputation, I still dreamed of the past, wondering what my life would be like if none of this had happened. Would I have become a great trader like my father was? Would I have settled down someplace nice and start a family, growing old and happy even as a war raged on? There are too many questions, too many possibilities to think of.. of what could have been.
However much I reminiscence, I could never go back. I have long realized that, but I couldn't forget. I pushed these dreams to the back of my mind whilst awake, only to remember when I slept. I had to move forward.
Even with my dreams haunting me, I continued to look into potential leads on Ali Skur'kalos, Kallus Arcai, and "Fang."
It wouldn't be long before one such person contacted me, wishing to strike a deal, however. . .
RELATIONS:
N/A
ROLE-PLAYS:STORY THREADS
N/A
CHARACTER THREADS[D] Grasping at One's Past, Future Uncertain
STANDARD THREADSMaximus returns to his homeworld of Coruscant in an effort to confront his past in order to, perhaps, finally let it rest.
[D] The First Respite
Returning from a costly but successful mission, Maximus heads to a bar with two other mercenaries for the first break since the start of his mercenary career.
Remember, constructive criticism is always appreciated!
- 5/16/13 : 11:39 PM - Added 'Tritanis MK I' Schematics
- 5/17/13 : 9:59 PM - Desert Sky undergoes repairs and modifications
- 5/26/13 : 3:24 AM - Desert Sky scrapped; Desert Star now primary starship
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