Attley
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Apr 7, 2013
- Messages
- 10
- Reaction score
- 0
I find it interesting that you ask for my tale; there are so many others that you could study and define and envelop yourself in. Ah, there though is a risk: to become a story rather than a person. What a dreadful fate that would be. I do not think I am a story, not yet.
The refugee ship slipped into hyperspace and slipped out with equal life counts, but in the interlude I was born and abandoned to a lonely father. He was an unprepared man, and overburdened by me during those early years. We were among the least distraught and insecure families upon the ship, and in the subsequent colony we formed on the outskirts of a large starport on Jaemus, but still I did not have a voice till I was 6. I remember the sense of distance, the lack of agency. My father would read to me, stories that I'm convinced now that he invented himself and wrote down just to make the act seem more correct. I remember few of the details though, only that every time he read to me it felt like he was mocking me. Mocking my silence. I would write to him, and he would talk back; I feel now that I drained him in some way, degenerated him into a mute figure as I was. He feared me, and though I did not know at the time why it was simple: I did have a voice, I projected it to him often and scratched and shouted at him with it. I knew nothing of the Force then, and neither did he. We were simple, and he though I possessed.
I was 6 when he provided me with a vocaliser, and I remember feeling nothing but contempt. It seemed such a simple act, him handing over that small device and teaching me to use it, and I felt at the time that he had engineered my silence till that point, and so abandoned him. Of course, this was little more than childish angst, but it was too late for repair when this realisation attended me. I spent the rest of my childhood mostly in spaceports and on ships. The variety was great: sometimes it would be grand space cruisers, and I would pretend I was a Lord of some distant world; sometimes great agri-vessels, flying farms of crops and fruit that chased down correct light for its cargo; but mostly it was freighters, or slum ships where all that grew was disease. I spent much of my time begging, or trying to beg through a broken vocalizer. Life at the time, like my voice, seemed decidedly intermittent. Decidedly incomplete.
The lamentations of a soldier, though, are dull, so I shall spare you them. I joined the Alliance Navy when I was old enough, and did so with little knowledge of what it would become to me. I rose through the ranks slowly, mostly due to tactical skill rather than combat ability, but all the while felt ill at ease. My thoughts were no longer my own, and ever since my teenage years I had begun to feel a trickle of external influence within me. Another voice. Another thousand. Voices of those around me entering my head without a single moving lip. These annexed thoughts began to build, and occupied me throughout my naval career, building to a shatter-point after several months as captain of the Calliope following the death of Lieutenant Jorisson. Naval officers are superstitious folk, and objects shattering and fleeing and conspiring in the night are unlikely to help maintain morale. I was removed from active service following a particularly aggressive night, these 'poltergeists' finally being traced back to me, and placed under high-security arrest as a suspected 'darksider'. Luckily, a Jedi healer, Meru Cameer, under whose charge I had been placed, saw my innocence, and authorised for my conditional release.
Latent telepathy had dictated my life .Aboard the regal ships I had felt lordly, and in the slums I had felt wretched, but these thoughts had been vicarious. Now I stand at the beginning of a path I had been unaware I needed, ready to unpick what I had let destroy me.
You are born with but a whimper; a voice must be earned.
NAME: Meris Vorm
FACTION: Galactic Alliance Navy
RANK: Midshipman (No current ship)
SUB-FACTION: New Jedi Order
RANK: Padawan
SPECIES: Anomid
AGE: 27
GENDER: Male
HEIGHT: 5'8”
WEIGHT: 149
EYES: Soft yellow
SKIN: Pale purple
HAIR: Short, black.
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: -
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
STRENGTH: (6/10) Above average, owing to military training, but no serious advantage over any other soldier.
DEXTERITY: (5/10) No noteworthy ability, some sign of latent force power.
CONSTITUTION: (7/10) A childhood spent constantly moving from starport to starport has endowed him with a strong will to life, and tough exterior.
INTELLIGENCE: (7/10) A strong tactical mind, but prone to underestimation.
WISDOM: (8/10) Knowledgeable in the fields of naval warfare and literature.
CHARISMA: (6/10) Typically a very reserved character, and prone to distrust and caution upon first meeting others.
FORCE POWERS:
Untrained telepathy: difficult to control in either direction.
SKILLS:
- Military Skills -
Unarmed Close Combat: Average
Armed Close Combat/Lightsaber: Average, shows potential/no training
Firearms: Above average
Explosives: No training
Functionality Within Team: Strong
Leadership: Strong
Tactical ability: Adept
Speeder Piloting: Average
Military Vehicle Piloting: No training
Small Spacecraft Piloting: Average
Large Spacecraft Piloting: Average
- Force abilities -
Telepathy: Untrained, uncontrolled.
Telekinesis: Untrained, uncontrolled.
- Technical Skills -
First Aid: Military level
Anatomy: Average
Basic Engineering: Average for species
Jury-rigging: Average for species
Advanced Repair: No training
Computer skills: Average
Knitting and Crochet: Limited, could improve.
LIGHTSABER/SWORD FORMS: Untrained
GEAR: Meris travels lightly, as most of his military career has been spent in non-direct combat situations. However, boarding parties are not uncommon, especially at the fringes of Alliance space, and so he owns a K8 heavy blaster pistol. He has received some training in the use of a vibroblade, reasoning that the ceremonial one he wore should at least be of some use.
SHIP: Meris does not own a personal ship, but has mostly been positioned on Justice-Class Alliance Gunship Calliope. Six years as midshipman and several months as sole captain mean he has a strong understanding of the ship and crew and their abilities. Currently, however, the ship is decommissioned for upgrades and repair, and he is otherwise occupied.
PERSONALITY: Prone to reservation, observers would be mistaken for assuming Meris was nervous or impotent. However, as any who have worked alongside him would attest, this coolness is the feature that makes him a successful naval officer. This same trait also means he is an amiable friend, teacher and negotiator, and not prone to emotional outbursts or anger. However, this desire to have all the information before acting means that he can find making quick decisions difficult, and he can appear distant and cautious upon first meeting others.
FACTION: Galactic Alliance Navy
RANK: Midshipman (No current ship)
SUB-FACTION: New Jedi Order
RANK: Padawan
SPECIES: Anomid
AGE: 27
GENDER: Male
HEIGHT: 5'8”
WEIGHT: 149
EYES: Soft yellow
SKIN: Pale purple
HAIR: Short, black.
DISTINGUISHING MARKS: -
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
STRENGTH: (6/10) Above average, owing to military training, but no serious advantage over any other soldier.
DEXTERITY: (5/10) No noteworthy ability, some sign of latent force power.
CONSTITUTION: (7/10) A childhood spent constantly moving from starport to starport has endowed him with a strong will to life, and tough exterior.
INTELLIGENCE: (7/10) A strong tactical mind, but prone to underestimation.
WISDOM: (8/10) Knowledgeable in the fields of naval warfare and literature.
CHARISMA: (6/10) Typically a very reserved character, and prone to distrust and caution upon first meeting others.
FORCE POWERS:
Untrained telepathy: difficult to control in either direction.
SKILLS:
- Military Skills -
Unarmed Close Combat: Average
Armed Close Combat/Lightsaber: Average, shows potential/no training
Firearms: Above average
Explosives: No training
Functionality Within Team: Strong
Leadership: Strong
Tactical ability: Adept
Speeder Piloting: Average
Military Vehicle Piloting: No training
Small Spacecraft Piloting: Average
Large Spacecraft Piloting: Average
- Force abilities -
Telepathy: Untrained, uncontrolled.
Telekinesis: Untrained, uncontrolled.
- Technical Skills -
First Aid: Military level
Anatomy: Average
Basic Engineering: Average for species
Jury-rigging: Average for species
Advanced Repair: No training
Computer skills: Average
Knitting and Crochet: Limited, could improve.
LIGHTSABER/SWORD FORMS: Untrained
GEAR: Meris travels lightly, as most of his military career has been spent in non-direct combat situations. However, boarding parties are not uncommon, especially at the fringes of Alliance space, and so he owns a K8 heavy blaster pistol. He has received some training in the use of a vibroblade, reasoning that the ceremonial one he wore should at least be of some use.
SHIP: Meris does not own a personal ship, but has mostly been positioned on Justice-Class Alliance Gunship Calliope. Six years as midshipman and several months as sole captain mean he has a strong understanding of the ship and crew and their abilities. Currently, however, the ship is decommissioned for upgrades and repair, and he is otherwise occupied.
PERSONALITY: Prone to reservation, observers would be mistaken for assuming Meris was nervous or impotent. However, as any who have worked alongside him would attest, this coolness is the feature that makes him a successful naval officer. This same trait also means he is an amiable friend, teacher and negotiator, and not prone to emotional outbursts or anger. However, this desire to have all the information before acting means that he can find making quick decisions difficult, and he can appear distant and cautious upon first meeting others.
The refugee ship slipped into hyperspace and slipped out with equal life counts, but in the interlude I was born and abandoned to a lonely father. He was an unprepared man, and overburdened by me during those early years. We were among the least distraught and insecure families upon the ship, and in the subsequent colony we formed on the outskirts of a large starport on Jaemus, but still I did not have a voice till I was 6. I remember the sense of distance, the lack of agency. My father would read to me, stories that I'm convinced now that he invented himself and wrote down just to make the act seem more correct. I remember few of the details though, only that every time he read to me it felt like he was mocking me. Mocking my silence. I would write to him, and he would talk back; I feel now that I drained him in some way, degenerated him into a mute figure as I was. He feared me, and though I did not know at the time why it was simple: I did have a voice, I projected it to him often and scratched and shouted at him with it. I knew nothing of the Force then, and neither did he. We were simple, and he though I possessed.
I was 6 when he provided me with a vocaliser, and I remember feeling nothing but contempt. It seemed such a simple act, him handing over that small device and teaching me to use it, and I felt at the time that he had engineered my silence till that point, and so abandoned him. Of course, this was little more than childish angst, but it was too late for repair when this realisation attended me. I spent the rest of my childhood mostly in spaceports and on ships. The variety was great: sometimes it would be grand space cruisers, and I would pretend I was a Lord of some distant world; sometimes great agri-vessels, flying farms of crops and fruit that chased down correct light for its cargo; but mostly it was freighters, or slum ships where all that grew was disease. I spent much of my time begging, or trying to beg through a broken vocalizer. Life at the time, like my voice, seemed decidedly intermittent. Decidedly incomplete.
The lamentations of a soldier, though, are dull, so I shall spare you them. I joined the Alliance Navy when I was old enough, and did so with little knowledge of what it would become to me. I rose through the ranks slowly, mostly due to tactical skill rather than combat ability, but all the while felt ill at ease. My thoughts were no longer my own, and ever since my teenage years I had begun to feel a trickle of external influence within me. Another voice. Another thousand. Voices of those around me entering my head without a single moving lip. These annexed thoughts began to build, and occupied me throughout my naval career, building to a shatter-point after several months as captain of the Calliope following the death of Lieutenant Jorisson. Naval officers are superstitious folk, and objects shattering and fleeing and conspiring in the night are unlikely to help maintain morale. I was removed from active service following a particularly aggressive night, these 'poltergeists' finally being traced back to me, and placed under high-security arrest as a suspected 'darksider'. Luckily, a Jedi healer, Meru Cameer, under whose charge I had been placed, saw my innocence, and authorised for my conditional release.
Latent telepathy had dictated my life .Aboard the regal ships I had felt lordly, and in the slums I had felt wretched, but these thoughts had been vicarious. Now I stand at the beginning of a path I had been unaware I needed, ready to unpick what I had let destroy me.
You are born with but a whimper; a voice must be earned.
Classes
Jedi: Who Are We?
Jedi: Who Are We?
Last edited by a moderator:
