Post by Alma Taren on May 22, 2014 22:55:30 GMT -5
Name: Alma Taren
Age: 32
Race: Human
Birth place: Corellia
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 185 lbs
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Brown
Appearance: Alma is fairly tall and well-built for a human, and while he isn't bulging with muscles he's at least strong enough to do the work to lift cargo onto his ship with little difficulty. He has a wide frame and a smooth, keen face with sharp features and piercing eyes. His skin is tanned across the board, and not pockmarked in any ways. Having taken to a casual appearance, Alma also wears a simple setup of a plain white shirt, a black cloth jacket, and brown cloth pants, not labelled with any insignia besides a symbol like a sweeping wing on his shoulder. He also wears a green, crudely cut crystal on a chain around his neck, purely for show. (Picture for reference; not identical)
Personality: Alma is headstrong, self-confident, and very self-interested. His mind goes to self preservation before anything, and immediately after that money. He's a born-and-built survivor who finds it difficult to form personal attachment easily, and has a bad habit of being brutally honest. All that aside, however, he takes all his jobs very seriously, and never works any less than his hardest on anything he tries. The few people he does get attached to, he treats with a fairly businesslike but not cold attitude, and he always enjoys the company of a reasonable employer.
If you try and cheat him, however, he tends to hold people to the same moral standard he holds himself. Murder is fine, if it's clean and for a reason; senseless killing and torture, though, he holds in disdain. Likewise, if you break a business deal or some other arrangement, he becomes straight-out enraged, willing to spend every ounce of energy and free time he can get his hands on to destroy you, your family, and your reputation.
He also enjoys eating light snacks occasionally. It's partially a nervous habit, though, and when he's stressed you're more likely to see him grab for something to eat. Despite his eating habit, though, you're unlikely to find him in any bars unless he's looking for work. He doesn't take to drinking well.
Profession: Alma is a freelance freighter/pilot/mercenary, who will really do anything if given enough money. Need a mechanic? He'll try and make sure your crew doesn't suffocate. Need a good shot with a laser? Give him a target and he'll show you. As he likes to say, 'Hey, a stack of credits is a stack of credits.'
Previous Faction/Rank: N/A
Equipment: On Body - CK Mk. 32 Long-range Blaster Rifle w/ variable scope, communicator, varying amounts of credits, plasma cutter, snack food
On Ship - Varying repair tools, automated medical equipment
Starship: The Crimson Machina
Skills:
Sniper: Alma really doesn't like getting up close and personal when he's fighting. As such, he's trained himself to accurately hit targets many meters away. Given time to concentrate and his CK Mk. 32, his current record for getting a one-shot kill without a scope is 100m and with a scope is 225m. Anything above that needs multiple shots or for him to get closer.
Pilot: Alma is a highly skilled pilot, capable of feeling out a ship's capabilities and pushing it to the limits. It can be difficult to get a stable lock on him, and he can read a situation to pilot out of it with a level of skill made plain if only by his successful smuggling career.
Multilingual: While Alma isn't necessarily able to speak any languages outside of Basic, he's able to fluently understand many languages, including Huttese, Jawaese, Twi'lek, and Bocce. He also can understand simple crude phrases in a few random languages, varying from 'how much to transport' and 'drop the cargo now or I'll disintegrate you where you stand.'
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 4
Leadership: 5
Unarmed: 3
Melee Weapons: 4
Ranged Weapons: 8
Bio:
Early Years
Alma was born on Correllia to a family that wasn't what would be considered well-off. As a baby, his mother and father cared for him in a very small house with just enough to get by. When he was only six, they were evicted. Alma and his family quickly had to adapt to a new life on the streets, barely scraping by on a handful of credits.
His father was soon forced to leave them to look for work, trying to send money back whenever possible before he disappeared from all memory. Now ten, it was Alma's job to take care of his weakened mother, finding work here and there and doing almost anything for a few credits. When he was fifteen, his mother passed away, leaving him alone.
Teenage Oppurtunity
Alma had been dragged on all those years by his mother, and while he was certainly struck hard by her death, he quickly managed to recover, going back to his routine of finding odd jobs and working his way up a hierarchy of work. Within a year, he found stable employment in the crew of a freighter, loading and unloading cargo for good pay - with the added bonus of free travel across the galaxy.
Through this hard work of lifting, organizing, and directing the cargo, by the time he was twenty he was able to find a similar job with better pay on a bigger ship. In the free time between journeys, Alma even practiced firing a blaster rifle with one of the older crew members, participating in small bets on range and accuracy as personal challenges and eventually learning to be a crack shot with a rifle.
Life was mostly lax until the freighter came through pirate territory to deliver goods. There was a surprise boarding from a heavily armed smaller ship, and the pirates held the crew hostage except for Alma and another lucky mate, who had been in the aft hold of the large ship during the boarding. When the pirates did find them, Alma hit one over the head with one of the boxes they were carrying, knocking him out.
Leaving his other crew member in the hold (he'd fainted at the sight of the pirate) he grabbed the pirate's CK Mk. 32 and slowly moved through the ship. In several of the hallways he spotted groups of pirates, and before they could react he'd picked them off from an impressive distance. Clearing the ship in this way, Alma eventually freed the hostage crew.
Keeping the rifle and turning in the surviving pirates to the authorities, Alma was promoted to first mate of the ship for fairly obvious reasons. He formed a businesslike rapport with the crew, organizing them efficiently and teaching the newer recruits they'd gotten to replace the less courageous ones who'd left after the boarding how to fire weapons of their own.
For nearly seven years, he'd minimized his spending with the increased pay from his first mate position, saving his credits away until he was able to buy a new ship of his own. Naming it the Crimson Machina, he began his own cargo business, leaving the crew on a friendly note. There was always need for transport of some kind, whether it was passenger or physical or even information. Alma's business was doing very strong, leaving his account swollen with funds.
Sith...I hate those guys.
Not too far into his career, Alma was hired to transport a passenger. However, over the course of the flight, the passenger fell in love with him. He wasn't too keen of it at first, but she managed to convince him to give her a shot. Her name was Jaania.
Over the next year, they traveled together, becoming increasingly close. Alma was still as businesslike as ever with everyone else, but he actually treated Jaania like a genuine person. However, when they were in port one day loading cargo onto the Crimson, they bore witness to the brutal public murder of a friendly port worker by two recently-indoctrinated, saber-happy Sith.
Said Sith immediately approached Alma, desperate to get out of there. He refused service of his ship to them, to which they responded by grabbing Jaania and choking her in front of him. It only took him a few seconds to react and allow them passage...to which they responded by snapping her neck quickly instead and tossing her aside. Alma was immediately broken, walking stunned onto the ship and guiding the Sith pair into the cramped 'quarters' of the ship.
Jumping into hyperspace, Alma stopped the ship in the middle of a black, uninhabited area of space, with no planets or otherwise anywhere nearby, and jettisoned the escape pod he'd dubbed the quarters into deep space with the Sith inside it. He knew it was petty revenge, but he knew even more that they deserved the slow and lonely death, if only because they'd tinkled him off.
Mercenary Shift
Only a month after being turned bitter and cold, Alma's life took a swift change. He was approached with a business deal by a man who seemed like a legitimate arms dealer; however, with several thousand credits suddenly tacked onto the price of transport, the trader explained to him that he would also be carrying a secondary package, stowed inside the crates below the weapons. He wasn't told what, or why, but he understood that this was by no means a legal endeavor.
He took the job anyways.
The smuggling operation went smoothly; his cargo manifest was cleared easily, and no customs officers raided the packages. It was then that he decided that it was far more profitable to be open to all 'business deals,' regardless of how illicit they were. Making withdrawals from his savings, he had the Crimson Machina completely refitted, adding enough armor plating, secret hatches, and powerful weaponry to make him a valuable smuggler.
Over the next three years, his jobs got dirtier and dirtier, even to the point where some may consider him an assassin. He always preferred the term 'Mercenary,' and it stuck. And so he's left at his present age, a man sought after in the underground and hunted by the authorities, doing whatever it takes to get by.
RP Sample:
Alma strode confidently into the bar, glancing around before seeing the individual he was looking for. The man stuck out in the establishment, if he could be called a man - Mandalorians sometimes felt more like savage beasts instead. But he'd been paid to take care of the man, so that was that.
Without waiting for permission, Alma slid into the seat next to the Mandalorian, giving him a fierce stare and looking him over. "You're Tor. Right?" The Mandalorian glanced at him before scoffing and turning back to his drink.
"What's it to you? Not another bounty hunter, are ye?" Tor had racked up a considerable bounty on his head, having killed several important people. Alma deftly responded with a shake of the head.
He was silent a moment. "You see, a lot of people want you dead, Tor. But there's people out there who want you alive, too. Keeping you alive pays good money, so I took the job." He nodded a bit, staring at Tor's drink while the Mandalorian was silent.
After a minute, Tor scoffed and pushed him aside. "I don't need no protection. Haven't you heard what happened to the last bounty hunter who came after me?" Alma had. They'd just found his foot on Tatooine, quite a fair distance from where they found his eyes on Coruscant. "Course I have. But there's always a bigger ship, y'know."
Tor still pushed past him with a grunt, approaching the exit with Alma on his tail. "I don't need your protection; only one who does is you, if you keep bothering me." Alma smirked and laughed it off. "Ha, great, comedian too. Just look." He pulled Tor to face him and looked up at the fairly taller man. "If you want to live, you'll let me protect you. Got that?"
Tor scowled and spat in his face. "No." There was a brief pause, but then a loud screech followed, one familiar to anyone who's held a blaster. Tor's eyes widened and he choked a bit, staring down to find Alma holding a blaster against his stomach...which was now steadily smoking. A mere moment later, he keeled over dead, Alma holstering the blaster and walking away. "I told you that you should've let me protect you, you thick bastard. But eh, the price on your head is plenty anyhow." Holding Tor's signature blaster in hand, he whistled, walking to his ship calmly as a small crowd formed around the corpse.
