DerKommissar
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Oct 15, 2018
- Messages
- 3
- Reaction score
- 3
[fancybox2]
[/fancybox2]
Vason Kaskim
ALIAS(ES)
Damos Vosh
Syarre Vosh
SPECIES
Clawdite
GENDER
Genetically Male
(form varies)
AGE
24
HEIGHT
1.87m
BUILD
Average
HAIR COLOR
Black (varies)
EYE COLOR
Grey (varies)
MARKING/SCARS
Varies
HOMEWORLD
Unknown
AFFILIATION
Sith Knight
FORCE SENSITIVE
Confirmed and Trained
"Through Victory my chains are Broken.
The Force shall free me.”
- Closing lines of the Sith Code
Vason's Theme
The Force shall free me.”
- Closing lines of the Sith Code
Vason's Theme
One of the latest products of the Sith Academy, Vason Kaskim is a paranoid clawdite changeling, though to speak to him one wouldn't suspect it. A self-taught master of deception and falsehood, Vason learned from an early age that it was best to keep your cards to your chest, and never let anyone see you sweat. With ample experience in both the male and female form, he is an adaptable, capable, and cunning agent of the Empire, and will not hesitate to use any means at his disposal to further their - or his - goals.
-
[fancybox2][/fancybox2]
Attributes
[fancybox2]
STRENGTH
██████████
DEXTERITY
██████████
STAMINA
██████████
INTELLIGENCE
██████████
WISDOM
██████████
CHARISMA
██████████
[/fancybox2]More than anything else, Vason prides himself on a keen mind and a quick wit to navigate changing circumstances. Life as a clawdite is neither easy nor forgiving, and those that last long enough to blend in well enough amongst the general population of the galaxy are rarely lax in such traits, much less one in the service of the Sith. While he doesn’t always bother to consider every possibility, his force-sensitivity and practical experience have helped him out of numerous sticky situations over the years, and he has no doubt they will continue to do so for many more.
His charisma, shaped by a lifetime of posing as things that he is not, is sharp, smooth, and, at times, cruel. Second only to his improvisational acumen, his words are carefully chosen to affect those around him, and only rarely does he speak out of turn. Vason is, in short, a manipulator, and there are none who he does not regard as a target for his machinations. If they cannot be bested in open combat, then they may yet be turned to his ends by choice words and a charming smile.
Despite his quick thinking and charm, he is not a particularly well-educated individual. Primarily taught by experience, proper schooling is something that he has only known through the Sith, and his tutelage there was far more focused on the arts of sorcery and stealth than any academic course. What he has, Vason has acquired through general experience, having only escaped the fetters of illiteracy three years ago - a tremendous struggle for the former slave, and a point that he is still sore about.
In the physical sphere, it would be best to describe Vason as fairly average for his people - not particularly strong, nor notably weak. He is healthy and in good shape, taking care to train as much as is necessary to maintain his current physique, though he has ambitions of improving his physical capabilities. While there are many who may be swayed by a pretty smile or a few credits, there are others with whom you cannot reason, and they too must be dealt with if Vason is to have his way in the end.
Appearance
In his natural state, Vason is fairly typical of the clawdite race - grey-green flesh, wide golden eyes, and a sullen, quiet expression. It is a thing hardly ever seen anymore however, as Vason has come to regard his natural form with a time of indignity and suffering in his life, finding it almost shameful to wear. As such, others rarely see him for what he truly is, Vason having come to prefer to keep them guessing with his natural capabilities. More often than not the clawdite elects to take a human form, appearing older than he actually is, moving between his two primary facades as the situation deems fit. Despite always tending to the vitriolic flame in his heart, his outward manner is best described as 'out from underfoot'.
Both of his human guises sport similar features: fair skin, wide lips, darksome hair, gray eyes, prominent aquiline noses, and a strong, almost martial jawline. Small keepsakes, of a sort, from his first venture into freedom, they are the image - to him, at least - of typical Onderonian stock. Like his natural form, they’re tall, if trimmed, with broad shoulders and a long reach, but such isn’t unusual for those that had tamed the wild beasts of Dxun. That being said, there are distinct differences between the two, aside from their gender.
Damos, Vason’s male alias, appears to keep his hair cut short, a professional look that blends well in both martial and corporate circles, adjusting small physical details - superficial scars, a blinded eye, lingering stubble - accented with a raspy, careful baritone. Typically adopted in situations where Vason believes himself to be at a disadvantage, Damos is a guarded, thoughtful guise, preferring to speak only when he has something to say.
His female guise, Syarre, often sports far more hair than her ‘brother’, though it isn’t unusual to see it kept up and out of the way. Her dress can vary, just as her expression, from demure and aloof to sensuous and intriguing, and her voice, a balanced mezzo-soprano, can prove just as adaptable as her form. Syarre is a form Vason assumes more often in the field that Damos, feeling that she can prove, in many ways, more useful to a changing situation.
In all things, however, Vason ensures that whichever - or whatever - shape he assumes can best suit the task at hand. -
[fancybox2][/fancybox2]
Personality
For all his care, Vason is an incredibly vindictive creature, one that does not forget any slight against him, no matter how long ago it was, and no matter how meager the offense. Vengeance, indeed, simply the lust for some sort of validation for his suffering and patience is his primary motivator in life, and it can blind him quite easily. Obsessive is perhaps the best word to describe him once he has set his eyes on a goal, to the point of self-destruction, as to the rogue clawdite all other concerns are secondary. When it comes to his desires nothing short of success can curb these tendencies.
Prone to grudges, forgiveness is not a thing Vason believes in. It does not win him many allies, but, as with all things, they are but temporary assets at best. He is all that matters, so far as Vason is concerned, and there is no price too high to suit that end. His humility is but a ruse, a face that he wears, like so many others, until he has the opportunity - and the security - to gloat over those he has vanquished. While all clawdites can be described to some extent as dramatic, Vason has a particular flair for it, in its due time of course. It is a small vice of his to put his foes in their place, which is to say, beneath him.
However, he is a quiet individual when he is around those he deems untrustworthy - which, it seems, is almost everyone. Vason has borne witness to several foolish tongues leading their owners to an early grave, and it is something he has no desire to experience for himself. Those who are placed in authority above him have his somber respect, and those who he encounters in positions of power he gives a proper, wide berth - or maneuvers to court them in his usual verbal fencing. For the most part, Vason has found that embracing his emotions and harnessing his passion is the key to his success in this world, but it is all too dangerous to simply be ruled by them. They - like everything else - have their proper time and place, and patience, more than anything else, is imperative. -
[fancybox2][/fancybox2]
Biography
Born to remnants of the Exile’s slave armies in the wake of their failed assaults on the Republic, Vason was an unexpected mistake, condemned by his parents' negligence to a life of squalor and misery, as they were abandoned by their masters in the shattered depths of the Republic. Clawdites like himself, they were pressed into the service of the Exile warlords, and didn’t think highly of the Dark Jedi that had left them to rot or the Republic, whose denizens regarded them with hostility and suspicion even after their force had largely disbanded. His father absconded early on, easily finding work as a hired gun, while he and his mother were forced to live on the scraps that the slums provided. Pickpocketing and petty thievery were one of the few ways that Vason could provide for himself, as his mother certainly didn’t - electing instead to pursue her drugs of choice. Young Vason learned quickly that life on the streets was brutal at its worst, and cold at best. It was little surprise that he and his mother eventually found themselves in indentured servitude - and later slavery - to escape the misery of poverty, but that pain soon found itself replaced with the nightmare of life as a possession of the cartels.
A slave’s life on Nar Shaddaa was not a thing highly valued, and, after being separated from his mother at a young age, Vason quickly learned to mind his place, even if he detested the cruelties and punishments he was subjected to. Changelings could fulfill many roles in cartel space, and clawdites like Vason were quite desirable. For nine long years he endured the tyranny of the Hutts and their depraved lieutenants, watching and waiting until the day came that presented the opportunity for his escape. In his twentieth year, after his Twi’lek master finished with him for the evening, Vason waited until the fool was fast asleep in his bed, and, taking the knife that had been used just minutes before on him, slit his master’s throat. It was no trouble to muffle his gurgling cries of protest, though the slave knew that he had to act quickly. Folding together a set of his former master’s clothing, and stuffing a fair deal of credits and the blade therein, Vason slipped out of the quarters, stating to the guards that the master wished not to be disturbed while he slept, and that Vason had been assigned to launder what he carried.
It proved laughably easy.
Slipping away to somewhere private, the clawdite soon assumed an impression of his master - not the best, but enough to pass for the frightened fools downstairs - and, donning the clothes, slipped away from the property before his absence could be noticed. It was only a matter of minutes before Vason managed to find one of the many ramshackle landing pads that littered the Smuggler’s Moon, and one of the hundreds of titular smugglers that frequented the place. It was little trouble to book passage on his ship to the distant reaches of the galaxy, far away from this accursed place, playing on the man’s sympathy for a lost and wayward young woman, whose worried eyes and trusting smile won. The price was negligible - a portion of the credits she had, and a hint of careful attention just to ensure a smooth passage - and before the next smoggy dawn crested, Vason found himself in deep space aboard a rough, albeit reliable, Dewback freighter - the Obsidian Osprey.
Despite its undeserved name, the ship performed well enough, and bidding farewell to the charitable smuggler - with a sweet promise of being there when he returned - Vason disembarked on Onderon, quickly making plans to chart another flight away. Another degree of separation from Hutt space was critical, in his mind, and after a nostalgic romp in the markets of Iziz, utilizing his old skillset, Vason was sure he had enough for a second flight, and soon enough he was whisked away once more - to a place where he believed the Hutts could never reach - to Ossus. For all his life he had heard tales of the Jedi, their mercy and compassion. While he had no particular love for their kind, it meant that he might be safe, at the very least. Little did Vason knew what awaited him on that distant world, as a new power was making itself known in the far reaches of space.
A darksome and violent folk had taken root there, devastating an otherwise placid world, and Vason found himself uneasy the very moment he stepped off the freighter. Perhaps it had been a mistake to come here - but it was too late for regrets. Having spent the last of his credits to purchase passage to this place, Vason elected to make the best of it, and though he enjoyed a week or two of success, eventually his luck ran dry. Brought in by the authorities and, upon refusing to talk, subjected to all manner of painful indignities, it was only once he had revealed his true form that the Exiles learned the truth of his past. It was only an idle suggestion of the ranking sergeant that Vason be returned to where he belonged that saved him.
Otherwise keen to keep his head down and weather the storm, Vason rose in indignation at the very suggestion, and leapt up, going for his throat. It was a meager attempt as far as the sergeant was concerned, easily shrugged off and returned with ample interest with an armored fist, driving Vason to the floor, stunned. Flogging was likely his fate were it not for the Sith present at the station, drawn immediately to the anger and hatred that flared inside of Vason’s breast, and quickly the dark figure demanded to be let into the interrogation chamber.
With a pleased smile the Sith made her way into the room, and halted the sergeant with a light hand upon his shoulder, looking down to the bloodied figure that still glared hatefully at the one who had suggested he return to servitude. It was the glazed look in his eyes, the shudder of his form as he breathed through a broken, gushing nose that intrigued her, but she had to see it for herself. Hushed words bandied between the dark lady and the soldier soon had the truth of what it was that had elicited such a remark, and with a clever smile she turned her eyes back to Vason, and proceeded to goad him further. Life as a slave was fitting for one such as he,but it was the comment on his nature as a clawdite - and the inherent value that came with it - that had Vason lunge once again, but his rage was easily halted by the Sith’s unnatural capabilities.
It confirmed what she had felt - that this one was force-sensitive, and that he had no hesitation to kill, if he felt it necessary. This pleased her, and, holding him still with the sorcery of the dark side, she inspected him, eying him up and down as she circled his suspended form. It was only when the two faced each other again that she offered him the chance to seize his destiny, or be returned to the cartels, consigned to a life of servitude once again.
The choice was obvious.
He found himself taken from Ossus in her custody, accompanying her to the ancient and unholy world of Korriban where his induction into the ranks of the Sith began. It was a harsh and unkind affair, but such situations were not foreign to Vason, and in this cutthroat society he flourished, using both his pragmatism and natural talents to his advantage, and rose above those who dared to challenge his right to power. For the first time he felt that his life had meaning, that he could set his mind to purpose - not for a master, but for himself. The very code that ruled their existence galvanized that sense of meaning in him, that through victory, his chains would be broken. It was as a divine choir to a renegade slave’s ears, and those overconfident freeborn students who surrounded him couldn’t hope to understand it as he did.
Nor could they understand him, or the lengths to which he would go to achieve that coveted victory.
Trained in the arts of war and the mysteries of the force, the years he spent in training seemed to fly by to the clawdite, and it was not long before Vason was counted amongst the ranks of the Sith Knights. A proud and ardent imperial patriot, humble in service and ruthless in combat, his first assignment was simple enough - track down a Mandalorian criminal by the name of Fjordi Vash, assess and secure the illicit shipment of spice in his possession, ascertain the identity of the Hutt agent known only as 'Bukhat', and neutralize the threat all this presented to imperial stability. It was a test that Vason accepted with thinly-veiled pleasure, eager to utilize his burgeoning talents on whatever agent of the Cartels he could find, and prove his worth to the Empire. -
[fancybox2][/fancybox2]
Skills
COMBAT SKILLS
CLOSE QUARTERS COMBAT
██████████
FENCING
██████████
THROWN WEAPONS
██████████
MARKSMANSHIP
██████████
VEHICULAR GUNNERY
██████████
SOCIAL SKILLS
DIPLOMACY
██████████
PERSUASION
██████████
INTIMIDATION
██████████
PERFORMING
██████████
PICKPOCKETING
██████████
BRIBERY
██████████
LANGUAGES
GALACTIC BASIC
██████████
HUTTESE
██████████
TWI'LEKI
██████████
BOCCE
██████████
GAMORRESE
██████████
MANDO'A
██████████
TECHNICAL SKILLS
DRIVING
██████████
PILOTING
██████████
REPAIR
██████████
COMPUTER USE
██████████
MEDICINE
██████████
FORCE POWERS
FORCE PERSUADE
██████████
FORCE CHOKE
██████████
FORCE STASIS
██████████
FORCE LIGHTNING
██████████
FORCE PYROKINESIS
██████████
-
[fancybox2][/fancybox2]
Possessions
NOTABLE PERSONAL EQUIPMENT
One (1) single-bladed lightsaber
One (1) CBC-1 ‘Satyr’ blaster carbine
One (1) grenade belt with four (4) fragmentation grenades
One (1) pilot’s flight suit
One (1) set of Sith robes
One (1) set of Sith dueling armor
Multiple sets of inocuous civilian clothing, befitting of male and female humanoids
CREDITS
None
DROID(S)
None
PET(S)
None
-
Threads, Fights, & Relationships
THREADS
N/A
FIGHTS
N/A
RELATIONSHIPS
N/A
[fancybox2]
[/fancybox2]
Adapted templates by @ZayPat
Last edited:
