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- Aug 10, 2013
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BIOGRAPHY
NAME: Name
AGE: 23
SPECIES: Human
FACTION: Old Empire
RANK: Acolyte
HEIGHT: 6’0”
WEIGHT: 215 lbs
HAIR COLOR: Black
EYE COLOR: Brown
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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FORCE SENSITIVITY:
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some are bred by the elite of the Old Empire, and others, they fight tooth and nail to become one. Many when they first meet Cail, see him as one of those born into the ways of the sith, bred for success, the scion of an ancient house. It would surprise so many to learn that he was born in a gutter. Born to a lowly waitress on Cadinth, none recognized the capabilities he possessed as a child. Instead they say him as just some tenacious gutter trash, born in the wrong side of town. But Cail, he knew better, and so he fought. He bit, scratched, punched, did anything he could to make a name for himself in the streets. It was this tenacity that saw him noticed. It was the day his biggest score got away from him, the day he made his move off of Cadinth.
A fine dressed man had come through his turf that day, and the crew had targeted him the moment he pulled out those cred sticks to pay for some breakfast, and the scouts had caught a glimpse. Word ran back to the others, and they gathered, prepared to guide the man into an alley. It seemed to work at first, but the young children were just that, and had no idea that what they thought was a trap for their victim was actually to lead to their downfall. Cail leaned against the wall of the dead end as the gang surrounded their mark, small, teenage hands bundled into fists or clenched makeshift weapons. With a cry, the youths charged at their opponent, but they were young,
disorganized, and got in each other's way. The man was a blur of movement as he dodged their clumsy strikes with ease, grabbing a weapon here, a fist there, and shoving them out of the way. With half the crew down, bleeding from cuts, moaning as they clutched broken bones, Cail strode forward, a smile crossing his face as he looked over the adversary. It wasn't often that he got his hands dirty these days, but sometimes to get ahead, you gotta get a little dirty.
Their steps rang out as they circled one another, eyes watching for any sign of an opening, of a faltering step, their hands were both raised in a defensive stance, and each was not yielding a step. Cail snarled, and rushed in, the exchange was brief, and Cail wound up on the ground, clutching a broken arm and wheezing from a broken rib.
The stranger stood, looming before him, a smile cracking his face. "You got some talent kid, more than I would expect from a backworld hood like this. The name's Caul Styles, and if you come with me, you'll get a chance to really make something for yourself."
Caul introduced Cail into the world of underground fighting and day by day, year by year, that raw strength he had developed as a child was honed into a brutal, lethal, machine. Lacking the frills of many performance fighters, Cail was known for his brutal beatdowns and quick victories. Cail and Caul lived a life of constant travel, violence, and party. Wearing the finest suits, flying the fastest ships. It was a taste of everything Cail once had, but there was something missing. Soon the life lost its luster, for few would challenge the brutal killer, especially as rumors of deaths at his hands began to spread. It was just missing the sense of thrill, the sense of danger. So, Cail left, leaving the life behind to pursue darker regions, spending what money he had saved away to make his way to Serenno, there he found a group, deep underground, where he could truly unleash, to go full out. He quickly made a name for himself in these fights, killing many of those he faced, even when he did not need to. The young man was barely the age of 20 when the stranger came to watch the fights. They were a strange man, quiet, patient, exuding a sense of power unlike any Cail had experienced before. It made even the experienced fighter nervous to be around. It was this sense of unease that made the fight all the more challenging that day, and Cail would later come to understand that it was what brought the fury out of him and set him on his current path.
The night is still a bit of a blur to this day, but all that Cail remembers is the feeling of his fists battering into the face, the crunch of bones under his heavy impact. The warmth of blood splashing across his face. They had tried to hold him back,
to tell him that his foe was dead, but he turned on them too. All had fled or died by the end, and Cail lay broken upon the floor. It had taken it all out of him, and not even the depths of rage could sustain him forever, as his chest slowly rose and fell. It was a surprisingly sudden end, Cail thought, but not in all, a bad one, until he heard the sound of clapping hands.
The strange man from before strode out from the shadows, approaching Cail. "I am Sand den Gorst, but you can call me Master, Cail. You have much rage within you, and we could use that well. Come with me, Cail, and I will give you a chance to achieve all that you desire." With a sudden lurch, Cail was lifted off of the floor and slowly pulled towards the
Gorst. "Well, what do you say, Cail? Do you have what it takes to become a Sith?" It was all Cail could do to nod, but nod he did...
Dromund Kaas was nothing like Cail had experienced, for one, the constant rain made physical training even harder, and given his lack of formal education, Cail was forced to work harder than most to keep up. What made matters even worse,
was Cail's utter mediocrity with the force. Always the second best, and working thrice as hard as the rest to even get that far, Cail grew despondent. He was one of the oldest students at the temple, but yet he had progressed the least. Few respected him, few saw the potential deep within. But that was not all of his fellow students. Some saw his hard work and recognized it for what it was, drive, determination, strength. Unlike some, he was not ashamed to partake in some of the luxuries on offer, especially at the beginning. For they helped strengthen his motivation, reminding him of all the things he dreamed of as a child on the streets. But unlike the majority of his fellow students, he was willing to deny himself of them as needed.
Soon, he even made friends in the temple on Kaas city, Aligning himself with those Sith in the City's temple who saw the decadence and luxury of their fellow students as weakness. But training does not last forever, especially at the age of 23,
even the lowliest Sith is needed at their own assignments, and so it was that Cail stepped aboard a military transport and left the temple, not expecting to see the place again for the rest of his life. He was to be mistaken...
PERSONALITY
PRACTICAL SKILLS
■■■ Skullduggery | ■■ Survival | ■■ Tracking |
■ Hunting | ■■ Leadership | ■ Invest. |
COMBAT SKILLS
■■ Blasters | ■■ Rifles | ■■ Lightsabers/ Blades |
■ Demo. | ■■■ H2H | ■■ Daggers |
EDUCATION
■ Huttese | ■■■ Underworld Knowledge | ■ Ryl |
■■ Tactics | ■■ Politics | ■■ Lore/ Philosophy |
At the same time, Cail understands that one can provide the allure of power by acting the part, by surrounding themselves with the trappings of wealth and luxury. As such, he prefers to dress nicely, and to be seen with the best ships and vehicles money can buy. It is important to note that to Cail, such things mean less to him than to others, they merely serve as a means to an end.. never going back to the way he felt growing up as a child, alone and worthless, lying in the gutter, dying.
Despite this seemingly singleminded obsession, Cail has a quirky side to him. A fan of games, he is known to enjoy a game of sabacc but his true joy is dejarik. Having played the game since he was a child, watching old men play the game in the park by his home, he is not very good, but it brings him some of the most pure moments of joy in his life. He is also aficionado of fine alcohol, developed at first as an affectation to help mix with Caul, over time, this allowed him to develop a fine palate for drinks, and when he is not studying or working in some form, he can often be found at a fine bar, enjoying a high end drink.
LEGACY
EQUIPMENT
—Gloves replaced with DG-500 Dueling Gloves
—MOD
Cail's Lightsaber
—MOD
—AMMO
DH-7 Blaster Pistol
—Mod
—2 full clips
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