Casmer
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- Sep 9, 2017
- Messages
- 163
- Reaction score
- 82
Name:
Yimo Casmer.
Faction:
Matare Arms Corporation.
Rank:
Salesman.
Species:
Rodian.
Age:
24.
Gender:
Male.
Force Sensitive:
No.
Cook: Yimo is an above average cook, having been raised by parents whose
main occupation it was to feed the hungry Rodians of Equator City.
Shooting: shooting is considered a trick of the trade among arms dealers. If
you cannot test fire a blaster pistol appropriately, you’ll be out of business in
no time. However, when compared to soldiers, Mandalorian warriors or bounty
hunters, Yimo is probably no more than averagely proficient.
Small talk: he’s been selling stuff since he was little. Half of the trade is the talk
leading up to the transaction. He’s quite good at this.
Gear:
MaCo PP-50 blaster pistol: just a regular no bullshit handgun with high reliability
and no fuss. It’s worn and rusty around the edges, owning to its life with its previous
owner. Yimo has only fired it at the gun range.
Datapad: containing a catalogue of the weapons Yimo has for sale.
A fold-out pouch of exotic spices.
A pack of cigarras, menthol taste.
Roleplays:
None yet, will add once I've begun some.
Yimo Casmer.
Faction:
Matare Arms Corporation.
Rank:
Salesman.
Species:
Rodian.
Age:
24.
Gender:
Male.
Force Sensitive:
No.
Appearance:
Yimo is probably the tallest Rodian you have seen. Standing at a staggering 1.90 meters and weighing in at no more than 70 kilos, he resembles a piece of gum that someone kept pulling at. Green, oily, and with long, lanky limbs, he tends to be no one’s favorite cup of caffa. In fact, he is so off-putting to most of the fairer species that, were it not for his clumsiness due to a mangled left antenna, you would probably keep your eyes off him. Even so, he is generally found with a smile on his face, friendly gestures and a poignant cologne covering his smelling pheromones.
Attributes:
Yimo’s number one attribute is that he has a quick wit. He can (and will) talk his way out of sticky situations – situations for which he mostly has himself to blame, because his confidence got the better of him. Consequently, Yimo has a rather well-developed flight mentality, corresponding perfectly with a man with no illusions about the universe in which he lives.
Some would deem it more of a weakness than a strength, but Yimo is incredibly loyal to his family. Were he not, his life might have been less of a bumpy ride than it was.
Taller than most Rodians, you’d think that that would play to his advantage, but a malformed antenna makes him dizzy and imbalanced on his feet.
Some would deem it more of a weakness than a strength, but Yimo is incredibly loyal to his family. Were he not, his life might have been less of a bumpy ride than it was.
Taller than most Rodians, you’d think that that would play to his advantage, but a malformed antenna makes him dizzy and imbalanced on his feet.
Personality:
No salesman has ever succeeded in his occupation without a decent amount of charm, and while Yimo’s success can be questioned, his charm cannot. Since he became an arms dealer (though he prefers the term ‘salesman’), he has used every opportunity to hone his conversation skills. He has grown confident – perhaps even overconfident, but as he has learned, confidence sells guns. No one’s ever going to fire one of your blasters if you’re hesitant when asked questions about its reliability and safety.
These traits have been known to occasionally throw a spanner in the works for him. Overconfidence has led him into tricky situations that he was not equipped to handle. His charm, while generally a useful trait, is off-putting to some people, to whom he seems smug and shallow. And perhaps he is, to a degree. However, his prime motivator is his conviction that everyone has a right to success and happiness by way of diligence, and not by way of feeding on other people. Rather amiable ideals, if you were to ask him.
These traits have been known to occasionally throw a spanner in the works for him. Overconfidence has led him into tricky situations that he was not equipped to handle. His charm, while generally a useful trait, is off-putting to some people, to whom he seems smug and shallow. And perhaps he is, to a degree. However, his prime motivator is his conviction that everyone has a right to success and happiness by way of diligence, and not by way of feeding on other people. Rather amiable ideals, if you were to ask him.
Biography:
The smell is what Yimo most distinctly remembers. The smell of Rodian eel stew, platter after platter of caramelized frog legs, poached vakiir eggs with slices of homemade bread. Even the earliest memories of his parents are most olfactory, the dense mixture of sweet and sweat that hung about them. The rest of Rodia and Equator City is mostly bland and tasteless for him now, but even after five years, Yimo recalls the family’s food stalls.
There were several of them, strategically positioned on the corner of all the major markets in the city. Civilized Rodians have no time to hunt their own food, so business was good. Every day, after Yimo had dredged through the endless hours of mathematics and other borings subjects in school, he would meet his parents down by their main stall and do what he does best: sell. A frog-hating customer became a frog-loving customer after Yimo had informed him of the brilliant health benefits of frog meat. No indigestion could withstand the beneficial effect a few marinated frog legs had on it. Only the most blatant lies where reprimanded with a slap to the back of his head by his mother, because, after all, most of them were good for business.
Yimo was nineteen and managing a food stall of his own when the bad memories began. Armor-clad Mandalorians, empty streets, barred windows – all became elements of his daily life. Martial law was a bad thing for anyone who was not a member of the martial community. Soldiers had leeway, and civilians cowered. Every week the shipments of crops and game from the jungle farmers dwindled. Every week they cost more. The food stalls closed one by one, and Yimo realized that his family was moving steadily toward poverty… and that he was an anchor, dragging them down. When his mother fell ill and the bills for her treatment started arriving in the mailbox, he made a choice. He stole credits enough for a ferry ride to the Colonies and took off, leaving a note on the counter for his parents:
“Don't be mad. I've bought you some time. I’ll keep in touch”.
There were several of them, strategically positioned on the corner of all the major markets in the city. Civilized Rodians have no time to hunt their own food, so business was good. Every day, after Yimo had dredged through the endless hours of mathematics and other borings subjects in school, he would meet his parents down by their main stall and do what he does best: sell. A frog-hating customer became a frog-loving customer after Yimo had informed him of the brilliant health benefits of frog meat. No indigestion could withstand the beneficial effect a few marinated frog legs had on it. Only the most blatant lies where reprimanded with a slap to the back of his head by his mother, because, after all, most of them were good for business.
Yimo was nineteen and managing a food stall of his own when the bad memories began. Armor-clad Mandalorians, empty streets, barred windows – all became elements of his daily life. Martial law was a bad thing for anyone who was not a member of the martial community. Soldiers had leeway, and civilians cowered. Every week the shipments of crops and game from the jungle farmers dwindled. Every week they cost more. The food stalls closed one by one, and Yimo realized that his family was moving steadily toward poverty… and that he was an anchor, dragging them down. When his mother fell ill and the bills for her treatment started arriving in the mailbox, he made a choice. He stole credits enough for a ferry ride to the Colonies and took off, leaving a note on the counter for his parents:
“Don't be mad. I've bought you some time. I’ll keep in touch”.
Five years prior to the current year
Initially after leaving Rodia, Yimo lived as a nomad. He would work for a while at cantinas, then spend the credits for a ride further toward the center of the galaxy. The Core, he was told, was a place where fortunes and names were to be made by those with the appropriate tenacity, and Yimo was nothing if not tenacious. Upon his arrival, however, he discovered that the scenery was not quite as tantalizing as he had been promised.
For a while, he worked in a grocery store and sent what little surplus he earned to his parents on Rodia. By happenstance, he came to chat with a customer of his who was working for the Matare Arms Corporation. A so called ‘Macman’, a name that Yimo found laughable but didn’t mention, the guy was a licensed salesman of registered blaster pistols produced by the corporation. He invited Yimo to come with him to a gun range where Yimo fired a blaster for the first time in his life. After months of packing groceries, it was thrilling, to say the least. Eyeing an opportunity, Yimo asked the guy to put in a good word for him with his employer, and the next time there was an opening for a spot as a salesman, Yimo applied and got it.
For a while, he worked in a grocery store and sent what little surplus he earned to his parents on Rodia. By happenstance, he came to chat with a customer of his who was working for the Matare Arms Corporation. A so called ‘Macman’, a name that Yimo found laughable but didn’t mention, the guy was a licensed salesman of registered blaster pistols produced by the corporation. He invited Yimo to come with him to a gun range where Yimo fired a blaster for the first time in his life. After months of packing groceries, it was thrilling, to say the least. Eyeing an opportunity, Yimo asked the guy to put in a good word for him with his employer, and the next time there was an opening for a spot as a salesman, Yimo applied and got it.
Current year
Selling guns legally was not as profitable a business as one might think. While it beat working at a cantina or the grocery store, the large cut of the commission that the corporation demanded from each sale meant that Yimo was in no way nearing the good life that he had left Rodia in search of. He decided to earn some money on the side, buying used guns, restoring them by way of an acquaintance of his who was a weapons smith, and selling them for a higher price. It was still only registered guns, though – Yimo did not fancy himself a criminal.
Ironically, Yimo recently got his hands on a case of blaster pistols that were circulating on the black market. He realized his mistake while the trade took place, but as he ended up staring down the barrel of a gun, he decided not to withdraw from the trade. Now he’s in a bit of a pickle: his employer is inquiring as to why he has not left the planet to handle another trade taking place on a different planet, which he can’t because he’d get caught in the toll with illegal guns. He desperately needs to find a buyer for the guns, because he has taken an unofficial loan out of his MAC-funds to buy them. He’ll need all of his charm and an uncharacteristic success rate to pull this one off, though…
Skills:Ironically, Yimo recently got his hands on a case of blaster pistols that were circulating on the black market. He realized his mistake while the trade took place, but as he ended up staring down the barrel of a gun, he decided not to withdraw from the trade. Now he’s in a bit of a pickle: his employer is inquiring as to why he has not left the planet to handle another trade taking place on a different planet, which he can’t because he’d get caught in the toll with illegal guns. He desperately needs to find a buyer for the guns, because he has taken an unofficial loan out of his MAC-funds to buy them. He’ll need all of his charm and an uncharacteristic success rate to pull this one off, though…
Cook: Yimo is an above average cook, having been raised by parents whose
main occupation it was to feed the hungry Rodians of Equator City.
Shooting: shooting is considered a trick of the trade among arms dealers. If
you cannot test fire a blaster pistol appropriately, you’ll be out of business in
no time. However, when compared to soldiers, Mandalorian warriors or bounty
hunters, Yimo is probably no more than averagely proficient.
Small talk: he’s been selling stuff since he was little. Half of the trade is the talk
leading up to the transaction. He’s quite good at this.
Gear:
MaCo PP-50 blaster pistol: just a regular no bullshit handgun with high reliability
and no fuss. It’s worn and rusty around the edges, owning to its life with its previous
owner. Yimo has only fired it at the gun range.
Datapad: containing a catalogue of the weapons Yimo has for sale.
A fold-out pouch of exotic spices.
A pack of cigarras, menthol taste.
Roleplays:
None yet, will add once I've begun some.
Last edited:
