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Soloman Vastra
"Sunny"
Bounty Hunter/Freelance Journalist ◇ 32 ◇ Human Male ◇ 1.8034 Meters
"I love a woman who can kick my ass."
"Sunny"
Bounty Hunter/Freelance Journalist ◇ 32 ◇ Human Male ◇ 1.8034 Meters
"I love a woman who can kick my ass."
An Interview ● Biography ● Personality ● Equipment ● Threads
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“Who am I, you ask? Now there’s a weighted question. How about we start with what I am. I’m handsome, rugged, a real lady’s man if you will. I’m also a damn good shot, with a blaster and a camera. The two go hand in hand, really. Same goes for the skills with the ladies. You learn how to make a clean shot through the middle of someone’s forehead at 200 yards, you can learn how to take a mean photo, or score easily with the hard to get chick at the bar. Y’all got yourselves a real nice catch here.”
The interrogation officer pinched the bridge of her nose as she tried to maintain whatever was left of her composure. The man sitting before her, with feet kicked up on one of the only pieces of boring furniture in a drab interrogation room of a Chandrilla precinct, had been rather… uncooperative. He had already been in custody for several days, and managed to avoid any serious questioning; fighting off the officers assigned to escort him every time they unlocked his cell, the arrogant man almost escaped several times. Almost. His actions landed him in a maximum security cell, and it was only by dragging him in while unconscious from sedatives that finally gave the interrogators the time they needed to question him.
Finally reigning her frustration in, the officer smacked his feet off the table; he looked mildly insulted, but readjusted himself and leaned back in his steel chair. The officer leaned forward in her own seat before speaking, “I asked for your name, not a damn dating holonet site biography. Now, tell me your name, and how you mana- What do you think you are doing?”
The man held a lighter to the promptly lit cigarette now in his mouth. He took a puff, and blew the smoke upwards before giving the officer a bantha-poodoo eating grin.
“There’s no smoking in here! Where the hell did you get those anyway?”
“You get arrested as many times as I have, lady, you find a few interesting places to hide your smokes. Besides, I usually don’t give one-on-one interviews, so I need a little something to take the edge off.” He retrieved the box from where the cigarette came and extended it to the officer in offering. She wiped her hands down her face, making an extremely audible sign of her annoyance. He pulled the box back and shrugged, taking another puff of his cigarette, “Suit yourself. I’m gonna need these later, anyhow; but, now that we’ve got the foreplay done, how about we get down to the real nitty-gritty. I promise I’ll take you out for drinks later… Well, promise is a strong word. How about an IOU instead?”
It was going to be a very long first night for the officer.
Soloman “Sunny” Vastra was an only child; or, at least, he assumes so. Shortly after he was born in a hospital in Coronet City, Corellia, Soloman was abandoned. Never being told who his parents were, or where they ran off to, Soloman was promptly placed in an orphanage where he stayed until his mid teens. He was, obviously, never adopted; not because he was deemed unworthy of love (despite any self-doubt that he harbored), but because he was confrontational. He would be engaged in some form of fighting, be it verbally with an elder or physically with one of his peers, and would oftentimes win the physical fights. Sunny’s arguments with his elders would only award him a beating.
During his time in the orphanage, Soloman never came to respect those older than him, save for one; An elderly man, affectionately referred to as Jolly (due to his ever-present smile, hearty laugh, and large gut) Vastra, saw through his facade of a boy not wishing for love, and made every effort to make Sunny feel wanted and accepted. The two, eventually, became inseparable. Jolly took Sunny on fishing trips out in the underdeveloped areas of Corellia, taught him how to ride a speeder, fly a ship, and even how to properly handle a firearm. Jolly was the closest thing Soloman would ever have to a father. However, Jolly was in poor health for most of his elderly life. It was on the night that Jolly passed away that Sunny decided to finally leave the orphanage. Some of the orphanage staff reported that the last they saw of Sunny was at Jolly’s deathbed, before escaping into the night. Sunny stole away in an outbound freighter that very night, and never once looked back at Corellia.
Over the next few years, Soloman bounced from planet to planet, earning his travel fare and food doing odd jobs to whoever offered. Whenever he couldn’t afford either, he stole what was necessary. Eventually, the young man became old enough (about the same time he acquired his love for photography, cheap alcohol, and women) to begin his work as a bounty hunter, a profession he keeps to this day. Soloman also maintains a holonet site where he posts his photographs, editorials and pieces on the state of the galaxy through his lens.
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Calculating, laid-back, charitable, puppy-loving, respectable, honest, charming, pure of heart, pathological liar, long-winded, philosophical, a man with a sunny-disposition; just a short description of “Sunny” Vastra, authored by himself. Any longer of a description and you will realize just how big of a P.O.S. he really is; however, those who come across the man will note his ever-present smile, and love of tobacco.
Soloman Vastra is, in all honesty, one of the most easy-going guys one will ever meet. Be it in a firefight, a photoshoot, or talking up someone in a bar, Soloman exudes a miasma of poise that could be mistaken for overconfidence; but who would make such an accusation if it was not based in fact? His overflowing confidence stems from his times spent wandering the boundless star-plains of the galaxy; coincidentally, this also brought about his love of photography, capturing the fleeting beauty of cosmic scenery, as well as similar beauty of cosmic inhabitants.
Soloman’s time spent as a drifter among the stars conditioned the man to wonder about the deep machinations of the universe, and what true purpose lay within the people and alien species he came across. It is true that many would shrug off his attempts to find deeper purpose for oneself as bloated and egotistical, but Soloman finds the great joy in the process; this is perhaps why he was drawn to the idea of the Force not as a source of power, but as a source of worship, and commitment. Though the man believes he holds no aptitude for using the Force, he entertains the idea that it is a guiding path to one’s own enlightenment, regardless of one’s origins or species.
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Soloman carries a matching set of heavy blasters on him at all times. Whenever necessary, he also employs a long-ranged rifle. He also owns a concealable vibroblade, and a set of brass knuckles. While in a firefight, Soloman prefers to wear a light, tactical vest, preferring speed and maneuverability over heavier equipment. For photography purposes, Soloman carries a very durable camera, which has served him for several years. He also has an arrange of scopes for his camera, the longest range of which he can place on his rifle’s own scope for an increased field of view.
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Props to @Prudence for the dope profile skeleton[/beebox3]
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