- Joined
- Oct 18, 2020
- Messages
- 218
- Reaction score
- 226
BIOGRAPHY
NAME: Poet Regulus Severino
AGE: 27
SPECIES: Half-Morellian
FACTION: Independent; Star Guardians
RANK: Star Defender
HEIGHT: 6' 4"
WEIGHT: 91kg.
HAIR COLOR: Black (dyed); Red (natural)
EYE COLOR: Dark brown (contact lenses); Partially heterochromic: lower half of left iris is green; right iris is brown.
VOICE REFERENCE:
Poet's voice
STRENGTH:
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DEXTERITY:
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STAMINA:
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INTELLIGENCE:
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WISDOM:
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CHARISMA:
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Poet Severino was a former Sector Ranger and now Star Defender of the Star Guardians active during the Force Eternal era. His father was a Jedi Knight who opted to leave the Order so he could raise his child with his beloved wife. Poet's childhood was almost like a dream – his boyhood days filled with love from his parents and the joy any kid his age would have asked for. He was thirteen years old when his mother gave birth to his younger sister, whom they named Muse.
Unlike his little sister, Poet did not inherit their father's Force-sensitivity. It did not bother Poet, nor did he feel jealousy towards Muse. While she dreamt of being a Jedi Knight like their father, Poet aspired to become a Sector Ranger. His family supported his dreams and sent him to a police academy, where he graduated and received honors as well as being the second best in the class. Muse, on the other hand, was sent to the Jedi Temple on Ajan Kloss to train and fulfill her own aspirations of becoming a Jedi like their father.
Due to an accident when he was on a job, he was delegated with desk work duties until he was given clearance to resume his more active duties as a Ranger. While he was busy trying to fight for such clearance, tragedy struck the Severino family. Following the death of his younger sister during the Sith attack on Ajan Kloss, Poet's father chose to return to the Jedi Order to help with the campaigns against the Dark Siders and put himself on the frontlines. This caused a rift between the two men, with Poet's fear for his father's safety turning into anger.
Unhappy with the current state of the Sector Ranger and the effects of losing colleagues he admired finally catching up to him, Poet decided to quit being a Ranger. While it had been his dream for the longest time, he knew that ideals wouldn't truly get him anywhere given the mess and the new threat the galaxy faced in the form of the Killik emergence. The half-Morellian turned to his passion and the teachings instilled to him by his parents instead, and he soon found work among the Star Guardians after reaching out to @Clove Vanhoop for a job interview. Poet was hired on the spot, and now worked amongst the Star Guardians' Protectors as a Star Defender, combatants who secured the safety of his fellow Star Guardians and their patients.
Journal Entry: 001
[Poet is seen facing the camera, expression perpetually grumpy. His hair is messy, and there are dark circles under his eyes. A bandage is wrapped around his head, indicative of a head injury. Recently acquired? It is unclear from the feed.]
Poet: My therapist says that I should start making these stupid journal entries to help me organize my thoughts or something.
Poet: I call bantha shite over this stupid, fecking thing–
[A small girl appears in the background and waves at the camera before sprinting at full speed and launching herself on Poet's back. Loud cursing can be heard as the two fall out of the frame and crash on the ground.]
[Muffled but comprehensible audio]: You're cursing again, Poet! I'm gonna tell Mama!
Poet: Get off my kriffing back, you Kowakian monkey– D-Do–hooon't karkkkking tickle m-m-meeee–!
[A view of Poet's room is now visible. His bed is unmade, crumpled pieces of paper litter the floor, and one section of the wall is full of pinned up illustrations, type-written reports, physical copies of images ranging from crime scene photos to several snapshots of Poet and the small girl who tackled him. His laughter, bright and unbridled, can be heard through the feed.]
[Holofeed cuts off to black]
[Poet is seen facing the camera, expression perpetually grumpy. His hair is messy, and there are dark circles under his eyes. A bandage is wrapped around his head, indicative of a head injury. Recently acquired? It is unclear from the feed.]
Poet: My therapist says that I should start making these stupid journal entries to help me organize my thoughts or something.
Poet: I call bantha shite over this stupid, fecking thing–
[A small girl appears in the background and waves at the camera before sprinting at full speed and launching herself on Poet's back. Loud cursing can be heard as the two fall out of the frame and crash on the ground.]
[Muffled but comprehensible audio]: You're cursing again, Poet! I'm gonna tell Mama!
Poet: Get off my kriffing back, you Kowakian monkey– D-Do–hooon't karkkkking tickle m-m-meeee–!
[A view of Poet's room is now visible. His bed is unmade, crumpled pieces of paper litter the floor, and one section of the wall is full of pinned up illustrations, type-written reports, physical copies of images ranging from crime scene photos to several snapshots of Poet and the small girl who tackled him. His laughter, bright and unbridled, can be heard through the feed.]
[Holofeed cuts off to black]
Journal Entry: 002
[A disgruntled Poet appears on the feed, hair and clothes dishevelled. He is fidgeting, and mumbling a string of curses under his breath. The little girl from the first entry is nowhere in sight. The room is bathed in darkness, save for the light coming from the feed.]
Poet: As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by a kriffing ankle-biter, I'm making these recordings because my therapist– you know what? I'm just gonna skip over that and start talking about myself.
Poet: Maker, this makes me feel like a conceited little B.
Poet: Okay. [He huffs irritably]
Poet: My name is Poet Severino. According to my parents, I've recently turned 21 last... week? Yeah, that's right. I am a– [he frowns] Sector Ranger, based here on Coruscant, which is also my homeworld, although my parents – well, my mother – are from Lianna. My father is a Morellian, so that makes Muse and I a pair of hybrids, huh?
Poet: Gods, this is all very weird to me... since the reason I have been encouraged to make these journals is because I'm missing a huge chunk of my past memories. My childhood ones are practically obliterated, and it's just this yawning nothingness in my brain. Like I mentioned earlier I'm a Ranger, and my parents and some doctors told me that I've been involved in some kind of an accident. Occupational hazard or something – long story short I was chasing a criminal, got caught in a scuffle, the criminal pushed me off of them and instead of falling on solid ground–
Poet: I vaguely recall the feeling of weightlessness, then nothing.
Poet: [He pauses, then continues] They said I fell off the third floor of a building under construction. That I'm only alive right now because a scaffolding broke my fall, but it didn't save my noggin getting a good hard thwack to the ground. The workers found me, said there was so much blood that my head was practically leaking.
Poet: Everyone kept on saying that it's a miracle I'm still alive, and... well... I agree.
Poet: A fall like that should've killed me, and barring the TBI I should've drowned in my own blood – broken ribs poking a hole in my lungs and all.
[He pauses to take a deep breath, and his eyes become unfocused.]
Poet: I really can't... remember anything from my childhood. I mean, I remember being a smartarse teenager in class but beyond that? Nothing.
Poet: Whatever. I bet I was a stupid, snotty kid back then.
[Looking visibly bothered, Poet leans forward and stops recording.]
[Feed cuts to black]
Journal Entry: 003
[The feed starts with a sheepish Poet. He is seen rubbing the back of his head with one hand.]
Poet: So, uh... [he clears his throat] It's been literally two years since I updated this thing, huh?
Poet: Time to make up for lost time, then.
[He stands up from his seat, disappearing from view for a few moments. Poet's room is seen in full view: neat and tidy in an almost militaristic sense unlike two years ago. He returns with a sucker in his mouth, stick sticking out from between his lips. Poet sighs as he lifts a hand to scratch his forehead.]
Poet: Where to start though... eh.
Poet: I've been given clearance to return to my duties a year ago, but the brass sorta demoted me to desk work duties. Not that front desk representative stuff, but worse.
[He closes his eyes, looking physically pained as he pops the lolly out of his mouth to let out a disgruntled sigh.]
Poet: So many paperwork to file... and they're not even mine to begin with. Never have I wanted to commit crime for being called "deskboy" for months. And the worst part of it all?
[Poet takes in a deep, fortifying breath and screams, the video feed turning wobbly for a few seconds as he slams his hands on his desk.]
Poet: [He is visibly angry] I'M STILL STUCK DOING THE SAME FECKING THING. I'VE BEEN GIVEN THE ALL-CLEAR FOR FIELD DUTY TWO MONTHS AGO, YOU DEMENTED, IMBECILIC PIECES OF–
[The video feed shakes as Poet flips his desk in rage–]
[Feed cuts to black.]
Journal Entry: 004
[The new feed shows a distraught Poet. His jaw is clenched, and there is a glint of rage in his eyes. The room behind him is no better: a cabinet is upturned, spilling his clothes on the floor. One of the lamp posts by his bed is bent, the bulb shattered. The clippings on the wall, more so the photos of him and his little sister, have been ripped and torn.]
Poet: I'm 23 now. A decade older than Muse. She's–
[He rubs a hand over his tear-streaked face.]
Poet: Dad shouldn't have let her go with that Jedi. We shouldn't– She shouldn't have followed his footsteps and–
[Poet sobs.]
Poet: I should've stopped her from going to that temple, wherever the feck that place is. She always listened to me, so why didn't I–
[He stands up from his seat and walks out of the room. The camera continues recording until it's power source is drained. Only then does the feed cut to black.]
Journal Entry: 005
[Poet is glaring at the camera, the Sector Ranger badge pinned to his chest.]
Poet: Months. They made me wait for months behind that damned desk, filing one paperwork after another, so I can return to field duty.
Poet: [He sneers] Fecking finally.
[He sticks a lemon sucker in his mouth and flips the bird at the camera.]
[Feed cuts to black]
Journal Entry: 006
[The camera flickers to life. Poet's hand is blocking the lens for a moment, and the footage is shaking a bit. The half-Morellian seemes to be adjusting the camera's position. He soon comes into view, unaware of the green specks of paint on his left cheek.]
Poet: [He absent-mindedly brushes paint-covered fingers on his already stained cheek, smearing more paint in the process] I forgot about this being a thing.
[He narrows his eyes, looking at something beside the camera. Light reflects in his eyes, possibly from the screen of his computer.]
Poet: Huh. All these years and I'm still only on the sixth entry. [He sighs] Whatever. Anyway--
[He blinks at the camera and crosses his arms over his broad chest. The half-Morellian sports a sleeveless shirt, his arms speckled with paint. He reaches for the camera and points it at the painting behind him. A work in progress still, but the images painted on the canvas shows a complete story -- Poet's parents, laughing brightly while they pore over the contract that now connects the former Ranger to the Star Guardians, a humanitarian organization.]
Poet: I think this'll make a nice wedding anniversary gift. Got a job with this organization called the Star Guardians. The boss seems really nice, too. And, um, pretty.
[Poet clears his throat, looking a bit embarrassed at that last bit.]
Poet: Dad says he's coming home when I get my first pay. If he thinks I'm gonna be stingy about it, he's a dumbass. I already booked at--
[The footage shakes again, Poet's voice getting muffled, as he fixes the camera back in place.]
Poet: --and I already sent an invite to Yuuta and his family.
[He falls silent for a moment, his gaze morphing into a glassy, faraway look.]
Poet: I dunno about inviting Haldir, though. He gets sad when he sees me. Probably because he still misses Muse. He's not family, but to him I guess we're his siblings from another family. I still miss her, too. Everyone does. [The half-Morellian's focus sharpen as he looks back at the camera with a smile tinged with sadness.]
Poet: I have a new job now, little sis. All the people you would've helped if you weren't killed, I'll help them in your stead. Hope you're proud of me, wherever you are or whatever being one with the Force meant.
[He reaches forward and stops the recording. Feed cuts to black.]
PERSONALITY AND ADDITIONAL INFORMATION
PRACTICAL SKILLS
■■■■■ Slicing | ■■■■■ Survival | ■■■■■ Tracking |
■■■■■ Hunting | ■■■■■ Leadership | ■■■■■ Invest. |
COMBAT SKILLS
■■■■■ Blasters | ■■■■■ Rifles | ■■■■■ Misc. |
■■■■■ Demo. | ■■■■■ H2H | ■■■■■ Daggers |
EDUCATION
■■■■■ Huttese | ■■■■■ Rodian | ■■■■■ Ryl |
■■■■■ Tactics | ■■■■■ Politics | ■■■■■ Espionage |
The Character
Poet is blunt to the point of rudeness, though he seems to either be unaware or uncaring of the fact. He is a pessimist, more often than not seeing the worse in his fellow sentients. This he makes up for being largely unconscious about showing a sliver of kindness towards others – whether if it's through his actions or his words. Poet is described by his colleagues as saturnine, and is always seemingly surly at any given moment. This trait makes it difficult for him to make friends, and even those he has previously worked with on the field claim that it's always a relief when the job is finally done just so they can finally stay away from him.
Despite his unpleasant personality, Poet is inherently a compassionate young man. He is willing to help those who are in need, although he is prone to making a show of being disgruntled and giving his aid against his own will. The Ranger is comparable to a hard candy with a surprisingly soft center – though he may have a propensity for being grumpy and glum, it is always a shocker to see him with a soft and kind smile on his face and a sympathetic demeanor to match.
Addenda
Sugar High – Poet is prone to hypoglycemic attacks. This is why he always carries chocolate bars and other kinds of sweets in his pockets.
Memorya Fotográfica – Poet has eidetic memory. Despite having lost the entirety of his childhood memories due to the traumatic brain injury he received from an accident while on a job, this neat ability remains with him and has always helped him a great deal in gathering evidences and profiling criminals.
Say What You Mean – Poet hates a lot of things – alcohol, commuting, evil sentients, et cetera. But when he says that he dislikes a person or a thing, he actually means the opposite: it's only his way of saying that he likes them.
A Poet is Sleeping – This boy is insomniac. He spends most nights poring over cases, watching horror holomovies, and listening to his favorite music while he ponders over life and his significance to the galaxy. He also immerses himself in literature that he sometimes finds himself quoting a line or two from something he has read. Sleepless nerd.
LEGACY
EQUIPMENT
— One (1) Blast Vest
Weapon
— Two (2) K-16 Bryar Pistols
— Two (2) spare powerpacks each
Weapon
— One (1) Stun Baton
Weapon
— One (1) A280C Blaster Rifle
— One (1) spare power pack
Weapon
— E-11s Sniper Rifle
— One (1) spare power pack
Ship and Vehicle
— KS-9910 Kathol-class Light Courier, The Dream Walker
— BV-1000 "Hawkbat" Urban Patrol Speeder
Miscellaneous
—
— Four (4) throwing knives
— Two (2) vibroknives
— Three (3) smoke grenades
— Two (2) concussion grenades
—Two (2) flash grenades
— Medpac
Socially Acceptable — A pool party, winning bet, and the start of a petty grudge. Poet "disliked" it here already... [LINK] ●
Pastel and Blasters, Anyone? — Undercover work with the lively Sakas Zareen. [LINK] ●
What the Hound?! (Part 1) — Poet was never the gambling type... [LINK] ●
Induction Day — Aboard the Lighthouse, the grumpy half-Morellian gets acquainted with Captain Bast Emblai and Ranger Rylee Asuchi. [LINK] ●
Lost a Haven, Haven't Ya? — Poet messes up and loses a treasured gift in the process. [LINK] ●
Lost Heavens — A guilty Poet visits Crix. [LINK] ●
Remembering Rook — Why the hell was the galaxy unfair to good people who only wanted peace? [LINK] ●
Evacuation of Utapau — He really didn't do much nor risk his neck out there... stupid hypoglycemic attack. [LINK] ●
Never Say Die — Death sucks for those left behind. [LINK] ●
To the Stars! Star Guardians, I mean... — Poet leaves behind the Sector Rangers in hopes to pursue a higher purpose. [LINK] ●
Yavin To Lick Wounds Again? — TBA [LINK] ●
TITLE — Short description [LINK] ●
TITLE — Short description [LINK] ●
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