Noah Jacen - The Rogue

[Commissar Brett]

Noah "Blurryface" Jacen

"Sometimes, I like you... Other times, I really feel like you don't need your vocal cords..."
― Noah Jacen

​

BASIC INFORMATION

ALIAS
'Blurry' / 'Blurryface'
AFFILIATION
Independent ; Sith, Border Alliance (Formerly)
RANK
Mercenary ; Crusader, SpecForce (Formerly)
AGE
37
SPECIES
Human
GENDER
Male
HEIGHT
1.87 M
WEIGHT
83.5kg
BUILD
Tall, Muscular
HAIR COLOR
Dirty Blonde
EYE COLOR
Blue/Green/Hazel
FORCE SENSITIVE??
Confirmed - Positive
FINANCES

Started: 1,000 Credits
Closing:​

ATTRIBUTES

STRENGTH
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PERCEPTION
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ENDURANCE
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CHARISMA
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INTELLIGENCE
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AGILITY
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LUCK
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SKILLS

PILOTING
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DRIVING
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GUNNERY
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FIREARM HANDLING
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FIREARM MARKSMANSHIP
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LIGHTSABERS & BLADES
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COMPUTER EXPERTISE
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MEDICAL EXPERTISE
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MECHANICAL EXPERTISE
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FORCE ACROBATICS
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FORCE SENSE
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TELEKINESIS
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ENERGY MANIPULATION
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EQUIPMENT & INVENTORY

PRIMARY WEAPON(S)
Noah’s Particle Beam Carbine | Noah’s Sith Lightsaber

SECONDARY WEAPON(S)
Flash Bang Grenades (2) | Thermal Detonators (2) | Blaster Pistol | Combat Vibroknife

APPAREL
Noah's Armour (this is essentially the armour, but with a different apperance) | Formal Attire | Casual Outfit

TRANSPORTATION
Freighter Tomorrow’s Money (1.5 Hyperdrive ; 2 Dual Laser Cannons ; High Maneuverability ; High Durability) | Personal Speeder Bike

RESIDENCIES
Corellia Apartment | Velmor Safehouse

MISCELLANEOUS
Medical Scanner | Dataphone | Astromech Droid TD-B8

BIOGRAPHY

Noah’s childhood is rather unworthy of note before the age of 11. He can’t quite remember what planet he was from, nor can he quite remember what his name was for certain back then. One day Noah saw a Jedi being chased by a Sith Lord, who then proceeded to kidnap Noah because he could feel that the boy was very strong in The Force.

Upon kidnapping, Noah was given a new name by his master, and was brought under ground into an ancient Sith temple in the middle of the dark and twisted forests. He was trained down there for almost 10 years, and was taught all there was to being a Sith. He was trained on how to use Telekinesis to move with his mind, he was taught Acrobatics to know speed and agility, and he was taught Energy Manipulation to make his power more tangible in his hands. He became well versed in these, eventually able to match the other Sith Crusaders in the temple.

His lightsaber training made him very good with Shii-Cho and Ataru, and he learned how to mix the long sweeps and arcs of Form I with the acrobatics and spins of Form IV. He could match most anyone he sparred with, and his master found himself extremely impressed with the young man’s progress.

The sect decided they’d finally aid in the world’s takeover when the Sacred Band of Ziost arrived; thugs and mercenaries in a vast army. Noah is faced with a choice, and he realizes it is one that he can’t make. His master, enraged at the failure of his apprentice, locks Noah into a duel that tears the building down around them. In the fight, Noah defeats his master and takes his lightsaber, claiming it as his own. Noah killed the whole sect in one evening and into the night. He disappeared and was never seen by his name again.

Years later, after changing his name and his identity, Noah joined the Border Alliance. He fueled his desire to bring the fight to the Sith, and garnered some respect for the Jedi, but he soon learned to resent the Republic for ignoring the threat of the encroaching Sith. He developed a hatred for protracted trench warfare, and eventually found himself indebted to Admiral Kalin Varne.

Now, after Noah essentially followed Kalin as he walked out on the Border Alliance, followed the Admiral as his personal bodyguard.

PERSONALITY

To describe Noah in few words is… difficult, to say the least. A man known for his morbid sense of humour and savagely sarcastic, Noah can be brutally honest at best and viciously toxic at worst. Quick with his wit, his mouth often gets him in trouble with people that he calls out on their bullshit (which he does to anyone and everyone).

Inside, his emotions have taken great tolls on him throughout his life. He has been battling depression like anyone else on and off for most of his life, and some scars were left by his periods of self-harm. Though he doesn’t have many triggers, he still has some that prove to pop up every once in a while. He’s long dealt with the person he is and has resigned to his inevitable cycle of reflection, depression, bitterness, followed by going on a bender before it repeats.

His time in the Border Alliance garnered in him a stalwart hatred of the Sith, an aversion to protracted siege and trench warfare, and a begrudging respect for Admiral Kalin Varne. Though he admits the man has tactical brilliance and has what it takes to lead an army, he still holds a slight bitterness at the admiral’s almost clear disregard for the cost of lives. He sees the admiral as unable to weight the cost of men against that of ships, and has personally seen Varne abandon companies of soldiers before beginning orbital bombardments. However, an event occurred that forced Noah into the admiral’s debt, and he swore an oath to protect the man at all costs.

In terms of sexuality, Noah is a very open-minded and rather ravenous person. Half-willing to hit on anything that he looks at and likes, and almost as likely to sleep with them (or it, you never know). Essentially pansexual, though he does prefer the female gender, Noah is open to a number of romantic exploits and pursuits.

COMBAT AESTHETIC

 

[Commissar Brett]

When You Were Young

I was no more than 11 or 12 years old. I can’t remember what my homeworld was. I remember that I had a quiet childhood. Me and my friend, Raya, would stomp about the fog-blanketed hills and ridges around my family’s homestead. I remember my name, I think. It was Telic, or something close to that. I remember one day we crested a hill and looked down into the twisted woods on the other side. We sat behind a rock as we watched a fox chase a rabbit, symbolic in a way I didn’t understand yet. All of a sudden we saw a man in a robe bolting out of the treeline and trying to scale the slope of the hill. I figure behind him was running him down, and suddenly he turned and summoned a blade of green energy with a snap-hiss and met the red energy blade of his pursuer. The two clashed as Raya ran to help the robed man. His pursuer had smooth, dark red skin and tendrils that hung from his upper lip. Raya was stupid. I ran after her to stop her from getting killed. The robed man was pushed back by his attacker, who swung his blade and drew a burning line upwards across he chest. Her limp body slumped to the ground as the red-skinned man drove his blade downward through the robed man, his body going totally limp. The red man looked at me, stared at me with anger and surprise. He grabbed me by my arm.

I wouldn’t see the light of day for the next 11 years.​

Sick Like Me

The red-skinned man dragged me deep into the woods. The light that peeked through the twisted branches above became scarcer and scarcer until he brought me to a clearing. In the middle of the clearing was an enormous, twisted, blackened tree. I fought and kicked and resisted as he picked me up and started towards a tunnel. We went down into the tunnel, and for what felt like years I saw absolutely no light. I could only feel the dirt floor as I was dragged across, lead only by the rough grip on my upper arm and my own shuffling bouncing off the tunnel walls. The light started to become dull, visible and alien to my eyes. I could make out disfigured forms as the lights grew to warmer colours. At first it was the artificial red emergency lights, then as the floor turned to stone the glow became candlelight and roaring torches in wall sconces. I heard screaming and crying, and I knew not what would happen to me.

For 11 years they trained me. They said they were Sith. They said I was born to be Sith, too. I was born to channel the Dark Side of the Force. I never really knew what that meant. My master was trained me day in and day out. I was abused and used and beaten and broken until my heart was gone and my spirit was like that of a stallion. He made me use my head to build one of their energy blades without touching it. It hurt my head so much, and then he told me it was mine. I was so happy. My master had finally given me something. Then he snapped his blade on and swung at me. My reaction was instantaneous as my blade manifested and blocked his with expertly timed talent. We sparred for what could’ve been hours. I learned how to fight over the years, and managed to hybridize what the master called Form One – Shii-Cho, and Form Four – Ataru. He said he was training me to be what was called a ‘Juggernaut’. He said I would be unstoppable because my sheer speed would overwhelm my enemies.

He told me I had a new name. I remember that one, too. I think my name was Zaran. It was supposed to be a powerful name. I began sparring not only with my master, but with 3-4 other Sith at a time, and I almost always came out victorious in a fight based on nothing but bladework. I was a Crusader by the time we finally left the temple.

They said we had to seize control…​

Mama

The PDF soldier swung the barrel of his blaster around towards me. I had learned basic blaster-deflection in my training, but I spent so much time sparring that I’d almost never seen a real blaster in sentient hands. I chopped the air in front of the bolt as I spun. The swing of my crimson blade cut the particle bolt cleanly back into its firer, flames licking at the hole in his chest. I held my lightsaber’s double-length hilt by its pommel and created an even smoother point-of-rotation for the weapon, swinging the weapon in great circular motions with acrobatic dodges and spins and leaps. I was a natural, and my master thought the same.

I stepped into a building and began slaughtering anyone who stood, like my master always said to do. I did until I could go no further. My master asked why I had stopped. My mother stood in front of me with a face of stunned horror and disgust. My master order me to kill her. I brought my blade up, body tensed and ready to swing. I refused. I will never forget my mother’s words.

“You are no son of mine.”

I swung my blade in anger at the ferrocrete pillar next to her, cleaving through it in a single swing. The ferrocrete cracked and buckled as my hand grabbed air and pushed her out of the window. She would be safe, for now. Or she might be dead. I didn’t care anymore. My master was enraged and charged me with his lightsaber raised. He and I locked in a duel as the building collapsed around us. He struck, I parried and countered, which he blocked and reposted. We dodged falling chunks of ‘crete as we danced. I became so enraged, I channeled my anger into The Force, into myself, into my blade. I was guided and with one swing at the perfect time, my blade came up and tore his chest wide open from stomach to shoulder.

His blade fell to the ground and I scooped it up as I leapt from the building. I activated the blade with a snap-hiss as the orange blade manifested. I felt the Dark Side channeled through the weapon. I felt the power of the Dark Side. It felt good in my grip as I stalked through the streets of the city. I cut down Sith and PDF alike, tearing bodies asunder with each swing of the lightsaber. I hunted all of the Sith in the city into the evening. When I was done there, I went back to the temple. I slaughtered the rest there, too. I snuck into the city again in the middle of the night. I changed my clothes, changed my name, changed everything about who I was. Never again would I be Sith.

But I was destined to yet again see war…​

Bodies

We sat in the trench for days, trading fire with Ziost mercenaries and soldiers as the Sith continued to lay siege to this world. I had ended up on God-knows-what-world in the ass-end of space. The Border Alliance – a rag-tag coalition of planetary defense forces and free-lancers – was fighting a war against the Sith that the greater Republic deemed unnecessary, and a war I supported. It had been 8 years now since I’d run from my old life. I managed to make SpecForce, attained the rank of Lieutenant. My name was Noah, I know this for certain cuz I picked that name. But I’d earned another name over the years, and the troops under me always called me by it for some reason.

Blurryface. They said it was because I moved so fast that I could turn into a blur in your sights. I take their word for it.

A man called down the trench. The time had come. Troopers locked their helmets into place and clacked their weapons in preparation. It was time to take the next trench. Men called and yelled and lined up. I slapped a fresh power pack into my particle rifle. The whistle came.

“OVER THE TOP!”

There was a collective roar as men charged over the top of the trench. The next 30 seconds spent in no-man’s land were some of the longest in my life.

Fire and smoke saturated the air, dust and dirt thrown by explosions and blaster fire. I kept running forward, trying not to slowdown while at full tilt. To either side men and women were cut down in hails of red particle bolts and thermal mines set under the dirt. I prayed there were none in my path as I ran. I kept running forward. Men screamed and blasters cracked and barked through the air, bolts popping in the ground around me, and I kept running. I saw my goal.

I slid down into the trench and to either side of me was a mercenary soldier, shocked at my survival. My rifle swung in my left hand to fire at the one to my left as my knife unsheathed and sunk itself into the throat of the thug at my right. I spun and wove my way through the trench, cutting down any in my way and clearing the maze of dugouts. I rounded a corner, a Zeltron Sith Acolyte spotted and charged me, crimson blade in hand. I had to resist my instinct as always; I couldn’t risk someone seeing me draw my lightsaber. My rifle came up and the orange bolts were at first swatted by the blade. The acolyte soon realized that the bolts were simply exploding on contact with the blade, and the hail barking towards him was too much. I lunged the distance and swung my rifle, the cortosis-alloy casing knocking the lightsaber out of the way as my long vibroknife sunk into the Sith’s neck. The Zeltron went limp and blood poured from the wound as he was stuck like a pig.

It pleased me, seeing the spurt of gore on my visor, the warm feeling of the blood through my glove. I shouldn’t have enjoyed it, but it was a carry-over from my younger days, my more corrupt days.

I let the body hit the floor and carried on clearing the trench.​

For Whom The Bell Tolls

Another lost world, another army slaughtered, another retreat as we watch a city bombarded from orbit. I hated this part. This was the part where the brass feigned condolences for our lost comrades but that their sacrifice was necessary. I was always disgusted as I walked past the big-wigs, my contempt clear on my face. One man stopped me, though.

The admiral put his hand on my shoulder and turned me towards him slightly, asking my name. I told him, and he introduced himself as Kalin Varne, Admiral of this fleet. I saluted him and he stopped me. He was pragmatic, practical, but he also looked somewhat cold and distance. I respected the man very deeply. I swore I’d protect that man till one of us died, which ever came first.​