- Joined
- Aug 17, 2014
- Messages
- 1,736
- Reaction score
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[fancybox4="http://i.imgur.com/E6RQfUq.png"]
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Gender: Male
Species: Human
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Height: 5' 10" (177.8 cm)
Weight: 143 lbs (65 kg)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Teal
Homeworld: Nar Shaddaa
Residence: Leads a nomadic lifestyle.
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Steffan Dellucci
"Crime has never paid anyone but bounty hunters and politicians."
Age: 31
"Crime has never paid anyone but bounty hunters and politicians."
Gender: Male
Species: Human
Sexuality: Heterosexual
Height: 5' 10" (177.8 cm)
Weight: 143 lbs (65 kg)
Hair Color: Black
Eye Color: Teal
Homeworld: Nar Shaddaa
Residence: Leads a nomadic lifestyle.
Force Sensitivity: No
Trained: N/A
Trained: N/A
Faction: N/A
Rank: N/A
Rank: N/A
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Rugged looks and as many stories to accompany his impressive display of scars, Stefan accompanies his looks with impeccable clothing and a dull but confident color palette. His rough background and time in prison shows through his gait and physique, but it is clear that his habit of cigarettes has taken a toll on his health; starting from as young as twelve it's affected his stamina levels, hampering his stamina. Signs of drug abuse is noticeable with his gaunt cheekbones, signs of rapid ageing settling in with wrinkles and even birthing silver streaks in his hairline. Though he has long cut his habit it is hard to suppress the twitches in his fingers, a side effect from nearly overdosing once; having nearly fried his nervous system Stefan's cold turkey shows no sign of abating.
"Respect the suit; had it not been for dry cleaning I'd be wearing a deep shade of red."
Though no longer affiliated with the shady underground groups of Nar Shaddaa Stefan still dresses immaculately and with style, preferring suits and hidden ballistics vests as his form of protection. While a two-piece fashion statement bores no practical purposes, to Stefan it is both a memento to his past and a mark of professionalism which he shows - albeit in his own way - in his work. In his off-hours he prefers to cut loose, often sporting cheap tourist floral shirts and cargo shorts, whatever he can scrounge up on the local spaceport. Fashion matters less than availability in this manner, as his nomadic lifestyle does not permit him to keep up with the latest trend. What a police badge is to an officer, a good two-piece suit is to Dellucci. -
Paranoid. Twitchy. Distrustful. Stefan is less defined by these traits than he does representing a very good example of it; as a result of his personal history he takes everything with a spoonful of salt and a healthy dose of doubt. Surprisingly he somehow retains a positive spin on life, if only in a self-deprecating manner that is often mistaken for positivity. Rather, he is a realist who prefers to avoid the horrible feeling of existential crisis by focusing on the present and things that matter: to him, this encompasses a good latte and an interesting book to read, preferably drama and thriller genres. While he cannot communicate with another being as casually as an innocent individual would do, Stefan's acting skills easily makes up for his trust issues. As he trusts nobody, he also expects people to not trust him, as lying is an integral part of who he is: breaking this communication barrier requires an iron will and endless amounts of patience.
"I wouldn't trust my clone with a trust exercise; he might think my watch would be easier to steal when I'm dead."
Dellucci revels in cliched one liners shamelessly ripped off from old holo-series.
As an ex-mobster-turned-vigilante however he utilizes his own personal experiences and crime knowledge effectively; while most bounties often provide the option to bring their targets dead or alive, there is nothing to protect the bounties from serious grievous injuries which 'occur' during a 'chase'. In true mobster fashion Stefan's methods are brutal and often borders on the edge of technicality. Sometimes innocents get caught in the cross-fire, sometimes he has to make someone else pay for his target's crimes. Does it affect him? No more than astrology has affected his luck. The end does justify the means, if only because he doesn't know better. -
The bottle's half empty, the vidchannels are playing high quality crap and the night is young.
Very young.
I have one shot glass for me, one for you and another 'widdle one for my conscience.
It's not going to drink much of what's left so don't worry. Come by, pull up a chair, take in a deep pull of that cigarette; I won't bite.
Yet.
Whiskey taste good? Don't lie to me, it's the cheap stuff. I wouldn't drink it myself, but funds are running low at the moment. Wasn't always like this, mind. Used to have enough creds to buy me a night in the penthouse and then some nice lady-friends to have a good time, if you dig what I did. Sure you do, we're both mature enough to know the world isn't dreams and sunshine.
What happened? I did time. Yes, time. Locked up, isocubed; you name it, I did seven years for assault, theft, grand auto, manslaughter- look, the list ain't pretty and the night can be young for so long, are you sure you really want to hear me go on? Thing to take from this is, I did bad, did the time and got out earlier than I expected.
Not legally, mind; there was a prison riot. You always do in these kinds of planets, especially Nar Shadaa. Yeah, I know; you must think I suck to get hauled off to do time in Nar Shadaa. Ha ha, let's finish the laughter: there was a narc in the gang, got some people killed. Riot was pretty damn bad; prisoners got hold of the weapons cache, killed everybody else in there. Me, I was in the hole after getting oil on another prisoner. By accident, of course, dude had a pretty boy in his cell that he kept to himself. Roommate didn't like that, heard I was cold and paid me to do the deed- what you don't think prisons have cash? Think again: packet of Newports are worth diamonds in the penitentiary. Look we're getting off topic here: deal is, I shanked a man, got caught and beat up 'fore they locked me in iso'.
Riot blew up and pretty soon everything was in cause- hell the kitchen blew up. Hell of a bang too, cus' it broke my cell and I was awake at the time. Po po's got wiped, prisoners started celebrating and the ones with brains left 'fore the Feds came around to round us all up. I did the smarter thing and left a body in my cell. It looked like a charred barbecue gone bad anyway so nobody's gonna question it. It's been a couple months now, give or take: no one's knocked on my door or stopped me in the street. Don't go ratting on me now, I've given you whiskey for your troubles- yes it tastes bad but it's not like I have any of my old dosh to spend on us, alright?
Some people, yeesh.
Anyhow- so you got the gist: ex-mobster from Nar Shadaa that ran along with a good mob, and I mean- if not for the fact we were dealing in rackets and running shakedowns, these were the kinds of fellas you'd invite to the wedding. I ran with them since I was a kid, starting as a Rat. No, no, a rat and a Rat's two different thing: Rat just meant I ran messages through the sewers since I could fit in them tunnels. A rat's a no good kriffer who called the blues on the Godfather's daughter's wedding.
Worked my way up from Rat to hussler to one of the mobsters. Hell I even made Capo, had my own crew and all that we used to do runs with. Counterfeiting, black market alcohol, that sort of stuff. The good stuff, the good life.
Sometimes the Godfather, he comes 'round and he gives us a good pat on the back, talks about how much good we doin' for the family and we slid him a good tenner of our earnings. It's only fair 'cus he got us into the family see? What's family if you ain't gotta give 'em a little bit of what's due right? Right. Anywho one day the big man brings in a new kid, says he can personally vouch for the fella, 'cept it ain't right with me. Kid asked too many questions, got in my way one too many times but you don't tell the boss the kid he trusts is a freakin' narc! Something wasn't right with him, I figure he just had the itches. Boss tells me, "Dellucci, my son; I remember when you too were like that!" and I go, "Yeah but I didn't smell like a freakin' copper!", y'know what I'm sayin'?
So he goes real red a-and real big and says, "Capo Stefan Dellucci! How dare you!" and blah blah blah, we had a little fallout, big man and I. Wasn't pretty, got my crew taken away from me and I got dropped down. Lost a lot of friends too, but because I was primarily concerned for the family they let me keep, see?
God damn these hiccups, they ain't makin' this no easier.
You sure you don't want ano'zer shot? Well 's yer crap luck y'know?
That's good stuff. So of course we'se get in troubles and I'm makin' a little money on the side. Then I nearly blew my head out- I mean, coupl'a weeks la'er I'm seeing the boss's daughter with the narc and I'm losing my mind here. I walk's up to the boss and I tell him, "Sal, you gotta trust me here man that kid's gonna get us busted."
What? Yeah no frakk Sal was pissed! He got me with that old mouth snappin' and I yapped back and we nearly blew a gasket 'tween the two's of us. So he tells me, either I drop this bull or I don't get to call me part of the family anymore. I beg with him, "Bossman, the guy's a bad seed, ya got's to believe me would I ever lie to youse?" So course he does the easy thing and gets his big butch of a right hand man to kick my ass on the street like it's no biggie. No more family, not that I ever had one, no more protection and sure as hell ain't got no job: who'd want to hire a guy like me?
Three months later I'm sweeping bar floors when I catch the radio air see, the cops got a huge catch: this fancy fella uses the wedding as a set up and snatches all of the family in one big swoop, and you- I can see wha' youse thinking: it's a gatherin' full 'a mobsters, sure as heck someone's gotta be carryin' a piece! Sure as heck do: the security who got swiss cheesed. It's a pure thing, you don't bring guns to an event like this, not tha' it mattered cus the feds brought in their own guns. So I quit that day, left the bar with a puke-stained floor and cut my losses. You know what I did?
I spent a year hunting that narc, and when I found him, I found him good- man's got a wife, kids and a good apartment in the rich people's block. Guy was as pristine, bonafide gold hoarder I tells you.
So I slit his throat, cut off his head and left it for the wife to see. Drugged his kids, nabbed 'em and sent them on a shuttle to Tattooine. When the wife woke up, jaysus I bet she screamed. I didn't know, I handed myself in to the cops. Didn't have anything else to do, family's gone and I done killed a man and ruined his kid's life for good, y'know? I got life, no parole and sent to high sec'.
Then the riot, then freedom.
Now's I'm here, you thinking I'm gonna kill you's for listening in on an ex. .convict uhh. . .mobster's story. Nah.
I gave you whiskey, we're drink- well I'm drinking and I don't want to hafta do something rash tonight. See prison got me good, it gave me time to think. Maybe life ain't just one big fancy shmancy party- well I mean, I figured that one out myself a long while back, see?
It got me thinking that life's too short to be breaking knee caps for a big man, paying tenners for every racket you make. I figure's, there's plenty of peeps like me out there's that's got it as bad. Well maybe not as bad, but pretty bad. Small people actin' big and trying to scare others to pay up, someone's gotta show 'em to pick on fellas their own size. Now I can't do much 'sides all the other illegal schtuff.
But- and hear me out- but maybe, I can use what I knows, and it's a pretty big amount, maybe for good? See? That's thinkin' with booze. So I got to my feet, dusted out my old two-piece and tells myself it's time for the same old two step dance, 'cept this time, this time I tells myself: "This time Dellucci, you breaking caps for the other people who 'bout to get their caps broken. You doin' this cus you shoulda stopped a long time ago, but time's long gone so you do what you gotta do so. Why's the story got to end, eh? Sometimes the gal don't get the guy and you's end up flat broke, tough luck. Story don't necessarily end there.
Gotta know when it's really the end or when it's just the beginning of a new chapter.
Anyways the bottle's empty, seat's are warm and the night- well the night's well and truly old now, friend of mine. Don'tchu be tellin' on the coppers that I'm back.
I'm hunting criminals, see.
Be very, very quiet.
Shhhh. . . -
- Lover
- N/A | Relation | Status
- Family
- UNKNOWN | Father | ??
- UNKNOWN | Mother | ??
- Rivals
- TBA | Relation | Status
- TBA | Relation | Status
- TBA | Relation | Status
- Lover
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- Melee
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- Explosives
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- Miscellaneous
- Two-way communicator
- Encrypted datapad
- WIU-8 Deft Palm
- Auditory Frequency Modulator
- DGL
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- N/A
- N/A
- N/A
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- A variety of nothing, with a portfolio full of emptiness.
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Strength
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Dexterity
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Constitution
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Intelligence
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Wisdom
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Charisma
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Unskilled - Novice - Adept - Expert - Master
- General Skills
- Marksmanship - Master
- Hand-to-Hand - Master
- Navigation - Expert
- Piloting, Atmosphere - Unskilled
- Piloting, Microgravity - Unskilled
- Slicing - Expert
- Survival - Adept
- Lightsaber Forms
- Form I - Untrained
- Form II - Untrained
- Form III - Untrained
- Form IV - Untrained
- Form V - Untrained
- Form VI - Untrained
- Form VII - Untrained
- Force Abilities
- General Sensitivity - None
- General Skills
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- The original formatting and code for this profile was made by Slamdingo for Ailla Taske.
Speech Color: #708090
Face Claim: Ben Hill
[/fancybox4]Face Claim: Ben Hill
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