Post by Tanis on Dec 28, 2008 23:15:46 GMT -5
Name: Varrasimir Celuvesti
Race: Human
Age: 34
Height: Five feet, seven inches
Weight: Two hundred pounds
Appearance:
Varras is characterized by pallid skin, complemented by dark brown hair and hazel eyes with a hint of the Dark Jedi orange/red coloring. He is stocky, quite well formed and toned, and often clothed in whatever suits his environment, rather than the typical black garb of the other Dark Jedi, favoring such colors as maroon and burgundy. He is good looking, with a well-defined face and high cheekbones, as well as a distinct lack of any scarring or otherwise aesthetically unpleasing features.
Birth place: Coronet, Corellia
Faction: Dark Jedi
Rank: Dark Jedi Marauder
Bio:
Varras was born to white-collar parents in the city of Coronet on the great planet of Corellia. His father, Alexander, was a well-known legal aid and his mother, Marcha, an experienced surgeon at one of the many clinics in that town. His youth was marked by private schools and expensive habits, including his natural affinity for playing Pazaak and other card games. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, his parents were extremely distant and often left him the care of nannies that were rotated every few weeks because few could keep up the constant care. Varras was an intrepid youth, always exploring, always looking for some trouble.
His one close friend was his neighbor, Carlisle Farsh, who was from a somewhat more close knit family, with many brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles. His house was always full of love and laughter while Varras’ was full of silence. He had no siblings, and his parents were always working. They often had no time for each other let alone time for their son. Varras, by the time he was seven, had trouble making connections with people other than his friend Carlisle. The two had many great adventures together and were great friends, more like brothers than anything else.
That all changed when the two were nine, and both were pegged by a traveling Jedi named Sara Karsh as being Force-Sensitive and possible members of the order. The two were both taken from there to Coruscant, where they were tested for their aptitude. Carlisle was the poster child for being a Padawan, and was quickly accepted under the teachings of Sara Karsh. Varras, however, had problems. His connection to the Force was not as strong as Carlisle’s, and he was marked by fits of anger and jealously. Ultimately, he was rejected because of that, and he was sent back home to Corellia.
It was almost as if his parents were disappointed he was home. In his absence they had adopted another child, this one a young girl. He was angry because of how they treated her: His father had started taking time off of work in order to play with his new daughter, and his mother had quit working entirely. Feeling very much dejected and unwanted, Varras put up with the apathy his parents felt towards him for several more years before he ultimately struck out on his own. He was 14. His parents didn’t even bother reporting his disappearance to the police, but he made his way as a server for an upscale restaurant that looked out over the rolling hills of Corellia.
It was in here that he would take his first true steps down the Dark Side when another traveler discovered his Force potential: this one a powerful Dark Jedi. Master Karn Yarik, as he was known to the youth, was one of the only people to ever show direction to Varras, and he was soon traveling with the Master, and learning the use of his potential.
His first years of training as Yarik's apprentice focused almost exclusively on lightsaber techniques, and in particular, Shien. Yarik was an experienced master of Shien and imparted the extensive use of the form to his apprentice, after he had mastered Shii-Cho, that is. The two sparred often, and though Varras never bested his master in a fight during these years, he was quite skilled in lightsaber combat, and would later go on to master Shien. During this time the pair traveled mostly through the Outer Rim, sticking to out of the way planets which no person of substance would ever find themselves on.
In the final years of his training, as it were, Yarik shifted the focus to more subtle methods of accomplishing goals. He taught Varras how to use that well-educated wit and charm to his advantages, how to make use of his charisma in the manipulation of others. The use of Dun Moch was taught to Varras, and he soon was quite adept at it's use. The times in which he was required to use his lightsaber soon grew few and far between as he mastered the use of the silver tongue to accomplish his goals.
Master Yarik imposed upon the younger man the importance of self-reliance and power, how to stand on your own two feet, how to be strong in the face of trials. If he could not, he would be cast out, a weakened and pathetic creature. Only through his personal power would he be worthy to bear the title of Dark Jedi.
He was twenty-two before Master Yarik had decided the younger Varras was ready to travel with him into deep space to face the reality of what he was. When Master Yarik had deemed Varras ready, he abandoned the twenty-two year old deep in space, expecting him to die to beasts or be killed by competing men and women. It was a decade before he would find his way to his old master, Yarik, fighting off the shackles of despair and sadness, replacing them with anger and hate. Varras eventually found Master Yarik wandering the space lanes in his private vessel, and was soon face to face and crossing sabers with him.
True to Dark Jedi styling and history, Varras was angered he had been abandoned, and despite the praise of Master Yarik of his ability to survive and even thrive in solitude, the two clashed with sabers drawn, and though both walked away at the end to lick their wounds, it was clear that Varras was the victor. The fight was long and terrible, but he had won in spirit and in body, he had overcome his greatest weakness: His reliance on Yarik for words of wisdom. The life of Yarik could be taken at any time later, he knew. He was the better man. Living with his failure to his apprentice would be a greater punishment for Master Yarik. Varras then made his way back into the Republic, and back to Corellia, to confront his parents.
He yelled at them, hated them for their treatment of him, but proved to them that he could be greater than both of them, that in some ways he was better for having been the unwanted the child, that he was stronger for it. He might have killed them, but he did not. Instead, with the silver tongue he was so skilled with, he convinced them of their weakness, their unimportance, and their failure as parents. The knowledge that they had fathered something so powerful, which bore them so much hatred, was punishment enough, at least in the eyes of Varras. There were fates much worse than death. His stay on Corellia was cut short, though, when he felt an old friend creeping towards him. A familiar feeling. A Jedi feeling. Carlisle was coming from him, no doubt detecting his allegiance to the Dark Side of the Force. Their confrontation promised to be an interesting one, as they would both soon find out.
Varras is characterized as a well mannered, quite pleasant conversationalist, little pieces of his private education from Corellia. He is quite fond of good drinks and good food, as well as intelligent conversation. He is quite adept at concealing his anger and lust until the proper moment to let them loose, and often appears much more calm than he really is. Varras also has fondness for avian creatures and has one of his own named Dante.
Lightsaber: Dual-phase
Color: Red
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 5
Makashi 3
Shien / Djem So 5
Niman 3
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 7
Telepathic: 6
Body: 5
Sense: 5
Protection: N/A
Healing: N/A
Destruction: 6
Specialized Skills: N/A
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 6
Leadership: 6
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 4
Force Attunement: -2
RP Sample:
The alabaster walkways of Coronet’s lanes were complimented by the neutral tones of Varras as he walked down them intermingled with the midday crowd of men and women making for their meals. His high brown boots made distinct clip clopping sounds as he walked, but the sound did not drift upwards much as the press of people increased. Varras sighed, both inwardly and externally as he pushed his way past a crowd into a particular café that he had frequented every time he visited his home city, mostly for the view, but partially for the food. Varras had always had a refined palette, and this was one of the few places in the Core that could approach his standards.
A tender droid was working at the welcome desk, busily scratching numbers and other things on a datapad when Varras entered. The droid was a newer model then he had remembered, although it was over a decade since he had visited the planet, so that did not surprise him. It looked up as he entered, and beeped a few times in binary to the cooks back in the kitchen before responding to Varras’ entrance in a surprisingly pleasant female voice.
“Good day, sir, table for one?”
Varras rubbed his chin a moment. Something was coming. Something…familiar. He smirked a moment and responded in his even toned, well-mannered, aristocratic voice.
“Table for two, in the window room, if you please, and I’ll pay the rent the whole room. No unwanted visitors but the server, if you please.”
“Right this way, sir. Buying a big lunch for a friend?” The droid asked as it grabbed a pair of menus off the welcome desk and zoomed off through a maze of small tables. Varras kept close behind.
“You could say that. Do tell Mr. Farsh that I am expecting him when he arrives.”
The droid stopped at a two-person table next to a huge transparisteel pane. Outside the pane, the rolling, temperate hills of the edge of Coronet stretched out before, complimented by the sights and sounds of the local wildlife. My, the planet had not changed much, Varras mused. He took off his brown overcoat and set it across the back of the chair before sitting in it quietly and flipping through the menu. It hadn’t changed much in the years, unlike the welcome droid, and he quickly had decided on ordering his old favorite dish. A server droid approached, this one also with femine programming.
“What can I get for you today, sir?”
“I’ll have the Corellian Smoked Nerf, go easy on the spices please, along with a bottle of your finest Brandy vintage and a pair of glasses, if you please. All one check.”
The droid nodded and wheeled off. Varras turned to gaze out the pane into the wildlife of Corellia, though he didn’t get much time to muse on the beauty of it before that familiar feeling in the Force was fast approaching. He sighed inwardly this time, knowing what was ahead. He shifted in his seat, exposing just the barest length of his lightsaber to easy reach. Perhaps his old friend had merely come for words and food rather than fighting. Well, a man could hope. Varras did so dislike fighting on an empty stomach.
The droid brought his platter of food and he began to eat, slowly slicing off bits of Nerf meat and putting them in his mouth, washing them down with the forty year old Brandy. He sighed contently. The food was just as good as he had remembered, and this time he had the funds to afford a good drink to go with it. He smirked as he ate slowly, barely having finished part of it before he noticed the familiar steps of an old friend. He noticed the silhouette out of his peripherial vision. He wiped his face with a napkin before standing and turning to face the newcomer.
Carlisle Farsh had been his best friend when they were both young on Corellia before he had been taken by the Jedi Order to become a padawan over Varras, who had been rejected early on. And by the look of him, he had certainly succeeded in his training. He was garbed in Jedi brown and tan robes, with the typical hairstyle kept by members of the order, and a lightsaber dangled from his belt. He had well tanned skin and black hair, and was still tall and lanky.
“Carlisle my good man, it’s been so long. Please, take a seat, have a drink, order some food. Best place for eats in the Core, I’ll bet you my soul.” Varras said quite happily.
“I thought you had already sold your soul to the Dark Side, Varras.” Carlisle replied quite evenly.
“Now now, my old friend, this is not the time or the place for such personal attacks. It’s been so long we should have a drink just for old times before we clash over our ideological differences and contrary associations.” Varras said, as if he had been wounded by Carlisle’s words. In truth, he had been. Just a little bit.
“I don’t think the Order would much like me taking drinks with a Dark One like you if they found out.” Carlisle said, adjusting his stance, as if expecting a fight.
“No, they don’t much like anything other than rigid rules and apathy.” Varras countered.
“I was sent here to collect you, and they are trusting that I will forget our old friendship and bring you before the Council to face your judgment, Varras. Let’s not make this harder then it has to be.”
“Let’s have one drink then, please, Carlisle. One last bit of nostalgia for the days we used to be closer than brothers. The days when the two of us were all we needed in the world.” Varras asked.
Carlisle obliged, and sat down. Varras smirked, and sat down too, pouring two tall glasses from the bottle of old Brandy. Varras took up a glass and held it over the plate of Smoked Nerf, in a toast. Carlisle held up his as well, nodding slightly, and downing the majority of the glass in one sip. Varras did the same.
“Ah, such good Brandy.” Varras spoke.
“I’m sorry I’m going to take you in, Varras. Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry I poisoned your glass before you arrived, Carlisle, but I can’t allow you to take me in. I have work to do.”
Carlisle laughed for a moment, as if he thought it was a lie, before the first little bit of blood dribbled out of his nose and onto his robes. He reached up a hand and dabbed it, as if in disbelief, and then the other nostril began to bleed. Varras stood, collecting his overcoat and leaving a credstick with plenty of credits on the table, and thankfully, attached to a different name which would not lead to him. Carlisle began to choke on his own blood. Varras put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I want you to know that I always thought of you as my brother, and that this is business. It has nothing to do with our friendship. I wish you a good journey as you become one with the Force. Perhaps we’ll see each other again someday.”
Varras turned and left the empty room as Carlisle Farsh, Jedi Knight, drowned in his own blood.
NPC: Dante is a large male Corellian Scavenger Hawk which Varras acquired recently on his return to his home planet. He is some two feet long and with a wingspan of over five feet. With a sharply curved beak and mottled brown, white, and black coat, he is Varras' only companion.
Race: Human
Age: 34
Height: Five feet, seven inches
Weight: Two hundred pounds
Appearance:
Varras is characterized by pallid skin, complemented by dark brown hair and hazel eyes with a hint of the Dark Jedi orange/red coloring. He is stocky, quite well formed and toned, and often clothed in whatever suits his environment, rather than the typical black garb of the other Dark Jedi, favoring such colors as maroon and burgundy. He is good looking, with a well-defined face and high cheekbones, as well as a distinct lack of any scarring or otherwise aesthetically unpleasing features.
Birth place: Coronet, Corellia
Faction: Dark Jedi
Rank: Dark Jedi Marauder
Bio:
Varras was born to white-collar parents in the city of Coronet on the great planet of Corellia. His father, Alexander, was a well-known legal aid and his mother, Marcha, an experienced surgeon at one of the many clinics in that town. His youth was marked by private schools and expensive habits, including his natural affinity for playing Pazaak and other card games. Despite that, or perhaps because of it, his parents were extremely distant and often left him the care of nannies that were rotated every few weeks because few could keep up the constant care. Varras was an intrepid youth, always exploring, always looking for some trouble.
His one close friend was his neighbor, Carlisle Farsh, who was from a somewhat more close knit family, with many brothers, sisters, cousins, aunts, and uncles. His house was always full of love and laughter while Varras’ was full of silence. He had no siblings, and his parents were always working. They often had no time for each other let alone time for their son. Varras, by the time he was seven, had trouble making connections with people other than his friend Carlisle. The two had many great adventures together and were great friends, more like brothers than anything else.
That all changed when the two were nine, and both were pegged by a traveling Jedi named Sara Karsh as being Force-Sensitive and possible members of the order. The two were both taken from there to Coruscant, where they were tested for their aptitude. Carlisle was the poster child for being a Padawan, and was quickly accepted under the teachings of Sara Karsh. Varras, however, had problems. His connection to the Force was not as strong as Carlisle’s, and he was marked by fits of anger and jealously. Ultimately, he was rejected because of that, and he was sent back home to Corellia.
It was almost as if his parents were disappointed he was home. In his absence they had adopted another child, this one a young girl. He was angry because of how they treated her: His father had started taking time off of work in order to play with his new daughter, and his mother had quit working entirely. Feeling very much dejected and unwanted, Varras put up with the apathy his parents felt towards him for several more years before he ultimately struck out on his own. He was 14. His parents didn’t even bother reporting his disappearance to the police, but he made his way as a server for an upscale restaurant that looked out over the rolling hills of Corellia.
It was in here that he would take his first true steps down the Dark Side when another traveler discovered his Force potential: this one a powerful Dark Jedi. Master Karn Yarik, as he was known to the youth, was one of the only people to ever show direction to Varras, and he was soon traveling with the Master, and learning the use of his potential.
His first years of training as Yarik's apprentice focused almost exclusively on lightsaber techniques, and in particular, Shien. Yarik was an experienced master of Shien and imparted the extensive use of the form to his apprentice, after he had mastered Shii-Cho, that is. The two sparred often, and though Varras never bested his master in a fight during these years, he was quite skilled in lightsaber combat, and would later go on to master Shien. During this time the pair traveled mostly through the Outer Rim, sticking to out of the way planets which no person of substance would ever find themselves on.
In the final years of his training, as it were, Yarik shifted the focus to more subtle methods of accomplishing goals. He taught Varras how to use that well-educated wit and charm to his advantages, how to make use of his charisma in the manipulation of others. The use of Dun Moch was taught to Varras, and he soon was quite adept at it's use. The times in which he was required to use his lightsaber soon grew few and far between as he mastered the use of the silver tongue to accomplish his goals.
Master Yarik imposed upon the younger man the importance of self-reliance and power, how to stand on your own two feet, how to be strong in the face of trials. If he could not, he would be cast out, a weakened and pathetic creature. Only through his personal power would he be worthy to bear the title of Dark Jedi.
He was twenty-two before Master Yarik had decided the younger Varras was ready to travel with him into deep space to face the reality of what he was. When Master Yarik had deemed Varras ready, he abandoned the twenty-two year old deep in space, expecting him to die to beasts or be killed by competing men and women. It was a decade before he would find his way to his old master, Yarik, fighting off the shackles of despair and sadness, replacing them with anger and hate. Varras eventually found Master Yarik wandering the space lanes in his private vessel, and was soon face to face and crossing sabers with him.
True to Dark Jedi styling and history, Varras was angered he had been abandoned, and despite the praise of Master Yarik of his ability to survive and even thrive in solitude, the two clashed with sabers drawn, and though both walked away at the end to lick their wounds, it was clear that Varras was the victor. The fight was long and terrible, but he had won in spirit and in body, he had overcome his greatest weakness: His reliance on Yarik for words of wisdom. The life of Yarik could be taken at any time later, he knew. He was the better man. Living with his failure to his apprentice would be a greater punishment for Master Yarik. Varras then made his way back into the Republic, and back to Corellia, to confront his parents.
He yelled at them, hated them for their treatment of him, but proved to them that he could be greater than both of them, that in some ways he was better for having been the unwanted the child, that he was stronger for it. He might have killed them, but he did not. Instead, with the silver tongue he was so skilled with, he convinced them of their weakness, their unimportance, and their failure as parents. The knowledge that they had fathered something so powerful, which bore them so much hatred, was punishment enough, at least in the eyes of Varras. There were fates much worse than death. His stay on Corellia was cut short, though, when he felt an old friend creeping towards him. A familiar feeling. A Jedi feeling. Carlisle was coming from him, no doubt detecting his allegiance to the Dark Side of the Force. Their confrontation promised to be an interesting one, as they would both soon find out.
Varras is characterized as a well mannered, quite pleasant conversationalist, little pieces of his private education from Corellia. He is quite fond of good drinks and good food, as well as intelligent conversation. He is quite adept at concealing his anger and lust until the proper moment to let them loose, and often appears much more calm than he really is. Varras also has fondness for avian creatures and has one of his own named Dante.
Lightsaber: Dual-phase
Color: Red
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 5
Makashi 3
Shien / Djem So 5
Niman 3
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 7
Telepathic: 6
Body: 5
Sense: 5
Protection: N/A
Healing: N/A
Destruction: 6
Specialized Skills: N/A
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 6
Leadership: 6
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 4
Force Attunement: -2
RP Sample:
The alabaster walkways of Coronet’s lanes were complimented by the neutral tones of Varras as he walked down them intermingled with the midday crowd of men and women making for their meals. His high brown boots made distinct clip clopping sounds as he walked, but the sound did not drift upwards much as the press of people increased. Varras sighed, both inwardly and externally as he pushed his way past a crowd into a particular café that he had frequented every time he visited his home city, mostly for the view, but partially for the food. Varras had always had a refined palette, and this was one of the few places in the Core that could approach his standards.
A tender droid was working at the welcome desk, busily scratching numbers and other things on a datapad when Varras entered. The droid was a newer model then he had remembered, although it was over a decade since he had visited the planet, so that did not surprise him. It looked up as he entered, and beeped a few times in binary to the cooks back in the kitchen before responding to Varras’ entrance in a surprisingly pleasant female voice.
“Good day, sir, table for one?”
Varras rubbed his chin a moment. Something was coming. Something…familiar. He smirked a moment and responded in his even toned, well-mannered, aristocratic voice.
“Table for two, in the window room, if you please, and I’ll pay the rent the whole room. No unwanted visitors but the server, if you please.”
“Right this way, sir. Buying a big lunch for a friend?” The droid asked as it grabbed a pair of menus off the welcome desk and zoomed off through a maze of small tables. Varras kept close behind.
“You could say that. Do tell Mr. Farsh that I am expecting him when he arrives.”
The droid stopped at a two-person table next to a huge transparisteel pane. Outside the pane, the rolling, temperate hills of the edge of Coronet stretched out before, complimented by the sights and sounds of the local wildlife. My, the planet had not changed much, Varras mused. He took off his brown overcoat and set it across the back of the chair before sitting in it quietly and flipping through the menu. It hadn’t changed much in the years, unlike the welcome droid, and he quickly had decided on ordering his old favorite dish. A server droid approached, this one also with femine programming.
“What can I get for you today, sir?”
“I’ll have the Corellian Smoked Nerf, go easy on the spices please, along with a bottle of your finest Brandy vintage and a pair of glasses, if you please. All one check.”
The droid nodded and wheeled off. Varras turned to gaze out the pane into the wildlife of Corellia, though he didn’t get much time to muse on the beauty of it before that familiar feeling in the Force was fast approaching. He sighed inwardly this time, knowing what was ahead. He shifted in his seat, exposing just the barest length of his lightsaber to easy reach. Perhaps his old friend had merely come for words and food rather than fighting. Well, a man could hope. Varras did so dislike fighting on an empty stomach.
The droid brought his platter of food and he began to eat, slowly slicing off bits of Nerf meat and putting them in his mouth, washing them down with the forty year old Brandy. He sighed contently. The food was just as good as he had remembered, and this time he had the funds to afford a good drink to go with it. He smirked as he ate slowly, barely having finished part of it before he noticed the familiar steps of an old friend. He noticed the silhouette out of his peripherial vision. He wiped his face with a napkin before standing and turning to face the newcomer.
Carlisle Farsh had been his best friend when they were both young on Corellia before he had been taken by the Jedi Order to become a padawan over Varras, who had been rejected early on. And by the look of him, he had certainly succeeded in his training. He was garbed in Jedi brown and tan robes, with the typical hairstyle kept by members of the order, and a lightsaber dangled from his belt. He had well tanned skin and black hair, and was still tall and lanky.
“Carlisle my good man, it’s been so long. Please, take a seat, have a drink, order some food. Best place for eats in the Core, I’ll bet you my soul.” Varras said quite happily.
“I thought you had already sold your soul to the Dark Side, Varras.” Carlisle replied quite evenly.
“Now now, my old friend, this is not the time or the place for such personal attacks. It’s been so long we should have a drink just for old times before we clash over our ideological differences and contrary associations.” Varras said, as if he had been wounded by Carlisle’s words. In truth, he had been. Just a little bit.
“I don’t think the Order would much like me taking drinks with a Dark One like you if they found out.” Carlisle said, adjusting his stance, as if expecting a fight.
“No, they don’t much like anything other than rigid rules and apathy.” Varras countered.
“I was sent here to collect you, and they are trusting that I will forget our old friendship and bring you before the Council to face your judgment, Varras. Let’s not make this harder then it has to be.”
“Let’s have one drink then, please, Carlisle. One last bit of nostalgia for the days we used to be closer than brothers. The days when the two of us were all we needed in the world.” Varras asked.
Carlisle obliged, and sat down. Varras smirked, and sat down too, pouring two tall glasses from the bottle of old Brandy. Varras took up a glass and held it over the plate of Smoked Nerf, in a toast. Carlisle held up his as well, nodding slightly, and downing the majority of the glass in one sip. Varras did the same.
“Ah, such good Brandy.” Varras spoke.
“I’m sorry I’m going to take you in, Varras. Let’s go.”
“I’m sorry I poisoned your glass before you arrived, Carlisle, but I can’t allow you to take me in. I have work to do.”
Carlisle laughed for a moment, as if he thought it was a lie, before the first little bit of blood dribbled out of his nose and onto his robes. He reached up a hand and dabbed it, as if in disbelief, and then the other nostril began to bleed. Varras stood, collecting his overcoat and leaving a credstick with plenty of credits on the table, and thankfully, attached to a different name which would not lead to him. Carlisle began to choke on his own blood. Varras put a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, my friend. I want you to know that I always thought of you as my brother, and that this is business. It has nothing to do with our friendship. I wish you a good journey as you become one with the Force. Perhaps we’ll see each other again someday.”
Varras turned and left the empty room as Carlisle Farsh, Jedi Knight, drowned in his own blood.
NPC: Dante is a large male Corellian Scavenger Hawk which Varras acquired recently on his return to his home planet. He is some two feet long and with a wingspan of over five feet. With a sharply curved beak and mottled brown, white, and black coat, he is Varras' only companion.
