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Post by Blue on Nov 22, 2019 16:56:35 GMT -5
 Wrell Vizsla Full Name • Wrell Vizsla Nickname • Race • Epicanthix Birthplace • Mandalore Age • 49 Gender • Male Sexuality • Demisexual Faction • Mando’a Concept • Rank 3 Mandalorian Metalsmith Languages • Mando’a, Basic, Epicant, Binary, Bocce, Huttese, Ryl Assets • Arms and Armour: Beskar'gam (beskar, cortosis weave), with jetpack and auto-stim injectors Modern telescopic beskar bevii'ragir Kal WESTAR-34 blaster pistol Rangehunter EE-1 carbine rifle Grenades: frag, cryo, stun, ion Mandalorian vambraces. Left: electro dart, grappling line. Right: flamethrower, cortosis wrist blade Personal Effects: Bes'bev A pendant made out of a blue Kyber crystal, with the word Duraanir inscribed on it Smithing and repair tools Xiri, pet Shriek-hawk Workshop on Mandalore Appearance Face Claim • Travis Fimmel Height & Weight • 5'10'', 191 lbs Overall Looks • Rare are the times that one would see emotion on Wrell's countenance; his severe features do not often express such things when in company. However, if you could see him while he worked, you would see the spark of joy dancing across his face as he crafts a new weapon. Or else, hidden behind the helm of his beskar'gam, the cold rage and determination in his mismatched eyes (one a paler shade of blue than the other) while fighting a foe. His head is completely bald, the scalp and neck bearing twisting and interlocking tattoos. A brown beard, now fading to grey, grows on his face, the size of which is determinate on how much work he currently has; the heavier his workload the bigger the beard grows, as he neglects his grooming to focus fully on his craft, though it is normally cut to a medium length when he is marching to battle. Wrell's weathered features are lined with small burn marks and old scars, the most prolific being a scar that winds down from his forehead and curves around his right eye. The scent of smoke seems to follow the metalsmith around, even clinging to him on the occasions he remembers to partake in ablutions. Outside of his armour, he can always be seen wearing a blue crystal around his neck and wearing homespun, rough leather clothing. The beskar'gam that Wrell dons is a dull ruddy colour with midnight blue accents and has several fetishes hang upon it, trophies from the numerous battlefields he has walked. Emblazoned on his left pauldron is his clan emblem, and a sleeveless duster made of dark animal hide and trimmed in dark brown fur is cloaked around the armour. Though it is treated to be inflammable, due to the fabric absorbing the particles from the exhaust of his jetpack, the smell of burning continues to hang around Wrell, even while inside his armour. Personality Profile Wrell is a man of few words and has little time for people. Unsociable and insular, he tolerates the company of his fellow Mandalorians and is even less amicable to those outside of his culture, though Wrell has always been kind to most children. He is hard to read even at the best of times, even to those talented in the use of Force techniques thanks to his Epicanthix heritage. Yet his flaws are often overlooked (or, at least, tolerated in turn), mostly due to one simple fact: he is one of the most (if not the most) talented Mandalorian metalsmiths alive. From his workshop come some of the most beautiful works of Mandalorian weapons and armour in the galaxy. His operation is manned only by himself, and so the manufacture of such items are fairly slow, but everything that he creates are masterpieces. His obsession with his work takes precedence over almost everything, to the point where Wrell took time to capture and train a shriek-hawk to hunt and gather food for him so that he would not have to leave his workshop to gather supplies. His focus is legendary; he once took a blaster bolt to the shoulder at a feast from a young, drunken Mandalorian while repairing his own blaster and did not cease his work, or even notice the injury, until after his work was done. He is also far from a slouch in combat, as expected from a Mandalorian. All of Wrell's equipment was made by his own hand, even his blasters (which he took apart and remade with superior materials). He favours close combat, wielding his bevii'ragir with such speed and skill that he appears as a blur of deadly motion, interspersed with occasional blaster shots from a quick-drawn pistol in his off-hand. Of course, there is more to Wrell than what he presents on the surface. He shares a close bond with Xiri, the shriek-hawk that he tamed. If plied with enough ne'tra gal at celebrations, he might be persuaded to play his bes'bev, though the tunes he plays are often haunting in nature. And if one were to visit his workshop on Mandalore without giving prior notice, you might hear a voice singing melodically in time to the strike of a hammer on metal. Background Father • Baegr Vizsla, metalsmith, deceased Mother • Vhida Vizsla, bounty hunter, deceased Siblings • N/A Other Important Connections • Overall History • Born to Baegr and Vhida of Clan Vizsla, Wrell grew up in the mountains of Mandalore at his family home, which doubled as a workshop from which his father worked out of. Baegr was something of an outcast; the one time Wrell pressed his father for details he simply claimed that his brother had been killed in some dishonourable act, which many believed Baegr knew about and did nothing to stop. Though there was no proof, the dark cloud of suspicious never shifted from above him, leading him to lead a more isolated existence than most Mandalorians, accepted by his clan only for his skills at the forge. His mother spent many months at a time away from home, travelling the galaxy as a hired gun and bounty hunter to keep the credits from drying up for the materials required for her husband's chosen occupation, as Baegr was left crippled in a hunting accident not long after Wrell was conceived and was no longer able to work the forge as skillfully or for as long as he once could. As Wrell got older, Baegr was quick to notice the boy's interest in his work and began to teach him in his craft. It soon became clear that the child was a prodigy, pointing out ways to shape weapons and armour with almost twice the skill of his own father. In fact, Baegr was certain that even if his disability had not hampered his skills at the forge, his son would outstrip him with only a handful of years of instruction and experience. With Wrell aiding his father making arms and armour, Vhida found that she was not as hard pressed to work off-world and was able to begin her son's military and survival training, though it would start a few years later than what was usual, something that both parents had grown concerned over. As a result, the few moments that the boy did not spend with his mother, learning to fight and hunt (and even play the bes'bev), or with his father at the forge, he spent simply catching what sleep he could. This left the young boy virtually no time to socialise with other children from the clan, but Wrell did not seem to care one bit; he loved every moment of it and thrived under the pressure, which made both his parents immensely proud. On a dark evening not long after his thirteenth birthday, Wrell was approached by his mother. She informed him that he had fifteen minutes to pack whatever he thought he would need for a long, hard trek. Understanding the time of his verd'goten was upon him, the young boy did as he was bid and followed his mother out to her speeder. Once he had taken a seat, Vhida turned and, without a word, placed a bag over her son's head. They travelled for over an hour, Wrell completely uncertain as to where they were heading and what would be asked of him once they arrived. Eventually they did stop and the bag was lifted, revealing a small clearing. His mother bid him to build them a fire and to get some well needed sleep, claiming that his trial would become clear in the morning. Wrell awoke the next day as the sun had just begun to crest the horizon to find himself alone, the embers of his fire just starting to burn out. His mother was nowhere to be seen, the only evidence of her presence a note pinned to the nearest tree with a dagger that read: Come Home. Being completely lost, Wrell simply shrugged and climbed the tree to get a better look at his surroundings. He was in a heavily forested area, but in the distance was a familiar sight: a mountain. With a destination in sight, the young boy began the long walk home. It was, as his mother had claimed, a long trek. Not only was fatigue an issue, but there was various aggressive fauna to deal with, as Vhida had left him in one of the more untamed areas of Mandalore, and he had to fight numerous examples of the wildlife on many occasions to survive. A nest of fanned rawl was almost the end of him at one point, but he was able to kill two with a makeshift bevii'ragir he had constructed and escape while the others fed on the remains. To make matters worse, Vhida had informed the clan of his verd'goten and several of them were out looking for him. What their goal was, Wrell was not certain. But he had no intention of finding out and evaded their attention. He had a close call with one of their number when they climbed a tree above his hiding place. This was resolved when Wrell used his blaster to break the branch they were standing on, sending the hapless hunter tumbling to the ground and knocking them unconscious in the fall. Reaching the mountain's base revealed yet another problem: he was on the wrong side. Wrell would have to climb up and around it to get home. It was an arduous and dangerous journey, and more than once the young Mandalorian nearly lost his life with a ill-placed step. But eventually, Wrell dragged himself onto more familiar territory, and strode up to the door of his family's home. Both of his parent's were there to greet him and congratulate him on surviving his verd'goten. There were no great celebrations for him, but the laugh-filled meal and drinks the small family shared that evening remain one of Wrell's most treasured memories. The next ten years of Wrell's life were much like the previous ones, with one difference: Vidha took up bounty hunting work once more and insisted that Wrell join her. While the focus was mostly on fighting and tracking, his mother also taught him how to fix up a wide array of machines, from speeders to droids. He also proved adept at picking up languages , becoming fluent in several in their travels. When he was not chasing after targets in various environs, he was working the forge alongside his father. As Baegr predicted, Wrell had an almost preternatural instinct for metalwork, working the forge as if it was a part of him. It was not long before the son's works outshone the father's and, while Baegr felt some shame that he had fallen far from what he once was, he felt a surge of paternal pride that his offspring held such talent. It was not long before Wrell was commissioned to work with beskar, and he became relatively well-known for the beautiful weapons and armour he would craft with that precious ore. As he past his mid-twenties, Wrell's mother was killed defending the Vizsla clan's chieftain from an off-world assassin. This hit his father particularly hard and the older man grew more and more withdrawn as the months passed until he grew ill and passed away one morning in his sleep. Left alone, Wrell did the only thing he knew what to do, the only thing left he really cared about: he shaped metal into artworks of death. Often going weeks or even months without speaking more than a few words to anyone, the metalsmith's obsession with his work bloomed into something of a local legend; the mad, hermit smith who could craft any item, in any manner one could desire. The only times that Wrell would leave his workshop was to begrudgingly collect food, until even that became unneeded when he got the thought into his head to tame a shriek-hawk to hunt for him while he worked. Occasionally he was forced to leave Mandalore to bolster his funds with mercenary work and bounty hunting, like his mother before him, but always he returned. When Madalore's call was sent out, even Wrell felt the pull to answer. Though he was hardly the most popular teammate for whichever squad he was assigned to, none could deny his skill in battle. He even gained a little renown after a dual with a Jedi Master on Onderon. During the fight with the Jetii, the lightsaber came close to decapitating him, but merely damaged his helmet's visor, forcing him to remove it. The fight ended with Wrell headbutting and biting the Jetii's face, then impaling him through the heart on his spear as he reeled from the brutal attack. He took the man's lightsaber, which he would later take apart for raw materials, though he made the crystal within it into a pendant. With new worlds conquered and an uneasy peace in the galaxy, Wrell could no longer deny the call of the forge. He returned to his labours in his workshop on Mandalore, but still wandered out now and again when money started growing scarce or when he was called to duty. |
