Post by Jerek on Dec 23, 2008 9:46:58 GMT -5
Name: Garne Drange
Race: Human
Age: 22
Height: 6’0”
Weight: 155
Appearance: His pure black hair lays in a long ponytail down his back, held back with a black leather holder, which blends in with his hair. He wears an assortment of dull to colorful tunics, usually depending on the planet he’s on, with plain pants tucked into the high black boots he wears. He also wears a cloak on cold evenings, or sometimes to refrain from attracting attention to himself. His eyes are a very dark brown.
He carries two weapons. One is a blaster pistol concealed in his tunic. The cylindrical shape of a lightsaber (the second) also remains mostly untouched, strapped to his left boot. The lightsaber’s blade is blue. The handle has the markings of many intense battles, years of being forgotten, yet is still a bright chrome in some spots, as if they were untouched by time. It is in the shape of a tower, with an almost-hidden ignition button. It is a straight-hilt lightsaber
His left ear is also pierced with an earring that resembles the fang of a Krayt Dragon from Tatooine. His face and features look as if they were carved from stone, making him a very handsome young man, despite his upbringing.
Birth place: Nar Shaddaa
Occupation: Unemployed
Rank: N/A
Bio: Born on Nar Shaddaa, Garne Drange was orphaned, left to fend for himself on the cold, unforgiving streets. His father and mother, Kin and Goarbe came to Nar Shaddaa as prisoners to a Hutt gangster. He took the two, completely unaware that the woman was pregnant. After eight months of servitude, the Hutt grew wary of the defiant man and had him killed. By then, though, the woman’s pregnancy was noticeable. She fled, in an attempt to make a good life for her unborn son. She achieved the exact opposite. She ran into a dark alleyway, collapsing halfway through it and gave birth there, on the dark streets. She wrapped the baby in a torn sleeve from her slave tunic and set him down. Minutes later, she died, unable to go on. The boy was found the next day, crying and wailing for warmth and comfort.
One of the Hutt’s hired Bounty Hunters was the one to find the baby and the body of his mother. He looked around out of his visor. He smirked with an evil malice. He walked down the streets and tossed the boy over the edge of the city. Smirking once more, he turned on the heel of his black boot and walked away as the boy’s last wails of fear penetrated the crisp air. The boy, however did not die. Somehow, he landed on a vendor’s cloth overhanging and rolled gently onto the ground. Then, quite suddenly a pair of warm arms reached out and grasped the boy.
The woman lifted the crying baby from the ground and carried him to a small alcove in an alley. She placed him down on a pile of old rags. There, she cared for the boy over the years, until he was old enough to fend for himself. The woman, whose name was Lea, acted as his mother. But, because of them both being street urchins the food supply was slacked and Garne grew up a skinny young man. His hair grew out long and lanky, pure black. He was forced to wear old rags like Lea. Garne traveled the streets of Nar Shaddaa, trying to find a job. He was lucky enough to find a job, where he could provide food for him and Lea. He was only thirteen and was working a job.
Meanwhile, Lea was nearing very old age. Then, one day, she struck a conversation with Garne about his exceptional luck in the most disastrous of moments. Garne had noticed this as well, but didn’t think twice about it. He recalled two incidents when he came out alive when any other person would have died. He had survived being chased down by guards, had survived a shoot-out with a distracted Bounty hunter, and then a third incident in which he was completely oblivious to was when he was thrown off of an upper level of Nar Shaddaa. Suddenly the woman choked on her words, mid-sentence. It sounded like she was about to say, “You have-” Then, she spluttered and collapsed.
Tears formed up in Garne’s eyes. He fought them back. He was fifteen. He had to be strong. He wiped his eyes and carried the body to an isolated area, where he gave Lea a resting place. The only troubling part about all these events he had to recount and the death was that he saw them all in dreams. Nightmares. He shook his ragged sleeves back and returned to the city, searching out a new life. He used what little money he had left to buy a new set of clothes. He threw the rags aside and slipped into the dull tunic and matching pants, including the high black boots.
Slowly, he slipped the outer cloak on. They were not the best clothes, but they would do. He crept his way into the shipyard. There, he slipped silently into a ship’s cargo hold along with some crates. He had no clue where it would take him and frankly he didn’t care now. He quickly fell asleep in the carghold. He snapped awake after a few hours, having seen a hooded face with yellow glowing eyes sneering down at him. It looked so real. He shook his head. Then, suddenly the cargo door slid open, revealing a man in a black vest. He stepped to each box.
What if he knew of Garne’s presence?! He got up slowly and slipped behind a crate, but not unnoticed. “Hold it! Come out. Nice and slowly. Hands up.” Garne obliged. The man had a blaster trained on Garne’s chest. “Well, well. A stowaway.” The man sneered. He walked in behind Garne and nudged him with the barrel of the blaster. Garne stepped to the door. “We’ll see what the Captain has to say!” Garne cursed to himself silently. He held his hands above his head, walking the designated path. Soon they had made it to the helm. “Captain,” Garne’s capturer said in a low, brisk voice. “Yes?” A tall, muscled man turned around away from the viewport. “Stowaway here.” “Hm,” the Captain said stepping up to Garne and examining him.
“Must have snuck on before we took off from Nar Shaddaa, sir,” the man with the blaster muzzle at Garne’s back said. “We’ll drop him off once we hit Korriban. We can’t afford anymore unscheduled stops. Until then keep him in one of the cells.” The man behind Garne nodded and nudged him again. “Go!” Garne gulped and walked. Korriban? Garne had never heard of this planet. But, little news reached the ears of the people on Nar Shaddaa anyway. The cell he was placed in was small, dank, and smelled up mold. Shivering, Garne settled into the hard bed.
About three days later, the ship Garne was captive on lurched out of hyperspace. The shuttle landed at a base on this planet Korriban. Then, a man in a dull gray tunic stepped to Garne’s cage, a blaster ready in his right hand, and let Garne out. “Come on you. You’ll be left here. You’re our Captain was feeling generous. If he wasn’t on a scheduled delivery with the Sith Empire, he probably would have launched out of an airlock or tossed you in the middle of a desert.” The man sneered at Garne. Garne remained silent. The man led him to a city, then turned around, heading back to his ship. So, now Garne was stranded on a strange planet.
What a situation! Garne walked into a cantina and sat down in a corner, trying to look casual. The scorching heat of this planet forced him to strip his gray cloak off. He looked around the place. Aliens of all kinds sat around the establishment, drinking and talking, gambling too. Sighing, Garne went back out into the scorching heat. He might as well find a job or do some exploration. The hair laying across his back made the heat almost unbearable. And, the dark clothing he wore made it worse. He found a job that paid well enough. He spent two year in the settlement on Korriban. In those two years, he had earned enough to money to buy a small apartment and a hand-held blaster that could be concealed in any of his tunics. The crimes on Korriban almost competed with those on Nar Shaddaa.
One day, Garne decided to do a little exploration, like he had planned to do the day he was dropped off on this planet by those smugglers. He walked to a nearby shop that sold land speeders. He bought the cheapest one, having just enough money. He mounted it and took off. He flew into the desert. He soon learned of other cities on the planet. He also grew aware of tombs of feared that people called Dark Jedi. Garne had heard of Jedi, but not Dark Jedi. He dismounted the speeder and began to poke around one of the tombs. He walked to a statue of tall, slender-looking man. Though the statue was cracked and eroded in places, Garne could make out that the man looked possessed, haunted.
Garne stepped over to another statue but tripped halfway through his step. He looked behind him to see what had caught his foot. A small cylinder stuck out of the ground. He reached over to it and wrenched it from the sand. He looked it over, then found a small button. He pushed it. A white-green blade popped out, barely audible in the heavy sunlight. Blinking and rubbing his eyes to make sure it was real, Garne looked at the blade. Had he just uncovered a forgotten weapon? He pressed the button again and the blade disappeared back into the small handle. Garne knew what it was by the time he had made it back to his apartment. He had slowly regained knowledge he never knew he lost as he grew farther away from the tombs.
Something was fishy about them. Something unexplained. With his new weapon, Garne felt excitement rush over him. He strapped the lightsaber to his left boot. Over the years, Garne practiced with the uncovered weapon leg ended to be the weapon on the great and powerful, mystical Jedi. Garne grew into a handsome young man on Korriban, by now the age of twenty. He wore his hair in a style that suited the harsh environment of Korriban. He tied it in a ponytail that hung down his back. He had also gotten a piercing on his left ear. He was told it resembled the fang of something called a Krayt Dragon from a place called Tatooine.
Garne was twenty now and had finally earned enough money to buy a small ship to get off this desolate planet. He decided he would visit Tatooine. He heard it was much worse than Korriban but decided to see it for himself. Over the years, Garne had picked up a little on flying. Enough to make it to a nearby planet. Within two days, Garne arrived on Tatooine. He landed at a small landing pad, after paying a small fee. Indeed this place was harsh, but not as harsh as Korriban, Garne decided. Garne’s black boots crunched into the sand as he walked down the sandy ramp of his ship. Maybe he would get lucky here like he had in his earlier life. Garne’s reflexives had gotten much more heightened over the years, but only seemed to be unlocked in the most dangerous of situations, as did his nightmares returned and his luck seemed to follow him.
But, maybe he would get lucky and get some sort of business. He smirked a little to himself as he walked to a small cantina and ordered a drink. He drank it down quickly and exited the place. He returned to his ship and went to sleep. He needed to rest. That night he had one of his nightmares. A small orange-and black clad freighter’s fuel tanks were sabotaged and as it went to takeoff it exploded over the spaceport Garne was currently sleeping at. He awoke with a start. It was still daylight. He walked to the exit ramp of his ship and looked out. Near the sky a ship suddenly burst into flames and exploded, coming crashing down to its sandy grave. Garne’s eyes went wide and his skin pale.
He shook his head and ran full speed to the controls of his ship. He started it up. And, within the hour he was launching away from Tatooine. For the next couple of years, Garne spent his time traveling the galaxy, discovering other worlds he had not ever heard of. He also tried his best to block his nightmares that came so randomly. His efforts proved unsuccessful. He needed an answer as to why these things happened. He went on a search for anyone who could tell him.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 7
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 6
Alignment : 0
RP Sample: Garne woke up from his slumber quite suddenly. Too suddenly. He went lightheaded as he shot up from his bed. Regaining his balance, he tried his best to replay the image he had just seen in his nightmare. Sweat was starting to trickle down his forehead and making his shirt stick to his chest. His long hair was matted to his face from sweat as well. Another nightmare had come. Another one! Shaking off his tiredness, Garne made his way to the window of the hotel he was staying at, tying up his black hair. The earring dangling from his left ear glinted in the moonlight.
He watched as the event of his nightmare unfolded. A small ship came in from orbit, but didn’t land. It went into a sudden barrel roll and crashed into another ship, exploding on contact . Cursing himself, Garne got dressed, gathered his things and made his way to his ship. He took off from the landing pad on Bespin and launched back into space. He was fleeing yet again from another of his nightmares.
Whiping sleep from his eyes, Garne maneuvered his way around the sparse traffic. Once clear, he put all the speed his ship ahd in it toward the black sky above. As soon as he reached the stars, he began making calculations for a planet out of the way, peaceful. Some place he could clear his mind, perhaps be alone. Away from the voices in his head.
The hyperspace trip to the unknown regions of space took a few days. Garne's ship came out of hyperspace over an icy looking planet. The chart identified it as Ilum. Perhaps the locals would be nice, if there were any locals that is. Garne landed on a secure looking glacier. He got up from the pilot's seat and went to get some warmer clothes on.
After equiping himself with the lightsaber he had found and his blaster, he exited the ship. He looked around. Then, suddenly the voices in his head grew to a volume that almost made his head explode. He dropped to his knees, gripping his head with both hands tightly. He looekd up through streaming eyes. A man in robes stood before him. He reminded garne of some sort of wizard.
Race: Human
Age: 22
Height: 6’0”
Weight: 155
Appearance: His pure black hair lays in a long ponytail down his back, held back with a black leather holder, which blends in with his hair. He wears an assortment of dull to colorful tunics, usually depending on the planet he’s on, with plain pants tucked into the high black boots he wears. He also wears a cloak on cold evenings, or sometimes to refrain from attracting attention to himself. His eyes are a very dark brown.
He carries two weapons. One is a blaster pistol concealed in his tunic. The cylindrical shape of a lightsaber (the second) also remains mostly untouched, strapped to his left boot. The lightsaber’s blade is blue. The handle has the markings of many intense battles, years of being forgotten, yet is still a bright chrome in some spots, as if they were untouched by time. It is in the shape of a tower, with an almost-hidden ignition button. It is a straight-hilt lightsaber
His left ear is also pierced with an earring that resembles the fang of a Krayt Dragon from Tatooine. His face and features look as if they were carved from stone, making him a very handsome young man, despite his upbringing.
Birth place: Nar Shaddaa
Occupation: Unemployed
Rank: N/A
Bio: Born on Nar Shaddaa, Garne Drange was orphaned, left to fend for himself on the cold, unforgiving streets. His father and mother, Kin and Goarbe came to Nar Shaddaa as prisoners to a Hutt gangster. He took the two, completely unaware that the woman was pregnant. After eight months of servitude, the Hutt grew wary of the defiant man and had him killed. By then, though, the woman’s pregnancy was noticeable. She fled, in an attempt to make a good life for her unborn son. She achieved the exact opposite. She ran into a dark alleyway, collapsing halfway through it and gave birth there, on the dark streets. She wrapped the baby in a torn sleeve from her slave tunic and set him down. Minutes later, she died, unable to go on. The boy was found the next day, crying and wailing for warmth and comfort.
One of the Hutt’s hired Bounty Hunters was the one to find the baby and the body of his mother. He looked around out of his visor. He smirked with an evil malice. He walked down the streets and tossed the boy over the edge of the city. Smirking once more, he turned on the heel of his black boot and walked away as the boy’s last wails of fear penetrated the crisp air. The boy, however did not die. Somehow, he landed on a vendor’s cloth overhanging and rolled gently onto the ground. Then, quite suddenly a pair of warm arms reached out and grasped the boy.
The woman lifted the crying baby from the ground and carried him to a small alcove in an alley. She placed him down on a pile of old rags. There, she cared for the boy over the years, until he was old enough to fend for himself. The woman, whose name was Lea, acted as his mother. But, because of them both being street urchins the food supply was slacked and Garne grew up a skinny young man. His hair grew out long and lanky, pure black. He was forced to wear old rags like Lea. Garne traveled the streets of Nar Shaddaa, trying to find a job. He was lucky enough to find a job, where he could provide food for him and Lea. He was only thirteen and was working a job.
Meanwhile, Lea was nearing very old age. Then, one day, she struck a conversation with Garne about his exceptional luck in the most disastrous of moments. Garne had noticed this as well, but didn’t think twice about it. He recalled two incidents when he came out alive when any other person would have died. He had survived being chased down by guards, had survived a shoot-out with a distracted Bounty hunter, and then a third incident in which he was completely oblivious to was when he was thrown off of an upper level of Nar Shaddaa. Suddenly the woman choked on her words, mid-sentence. It sounded like she was about to say, “You have-” Then, she spluttered and collapsed.
Tears formed up in Garne’s eyes. He fought them back. He was fifteen. He had to be strong. He wiped his eyes and carried the body to an isolated area, where he gave Lea a resting place. The only troubling part about all these events he had to recount and the death was that he saw them all in dreams. Nightmares. He shook his ragged sleeves back and returned to the city, searching out a new life. He used what little money he had left to buy a new set of clothes. He threw the rags aside and slipped into the dull tunic and matching pants, including the high black boots.
Slowly, he slipped the outer cloak on. They were not the best clothes, but they would do. He crept his way into the shipyard. There, he slipped silently into a ship’s cargo hold along with some crates. He had no clue where it would take him and frankly he didn’t care now. He quickly fell asleep in the carghold. He snapped awake after a few hours, having seen a hooded face with yellow glowing eyes sneering down at him. It looked so real. He shook his head. Then, suddenly the cargo door slid open, revealing a man in a black vest. He stepped to each box.
What if he knew of Garne’s presence?! He got up slowly and slipped behind a crate, but not unnoticed. “Hold it! Come out. Nice and slowly. Hands up.” Garne obliged. The man had a blaster trained on Garne’s chest. “Well, well. A stowaway.” The man sneered. He walked in behind Garne and nudged him with the barrel of the blaster. Garne stepped to the door. “We’ll see what the Captain has to say!” Garne cursed to himself silently. He held his hands above his head, walking the designated path. Soon they had made it to the helm. “Captain,” Garne’s capturer said in a low, brisk voice. “Yes?” A tall, muscled man turned around away from the viewport. “Stowaway here.” “Hm,” the Captain said stepping up to Garne and examining him.
“Must have snuck on before we took off from Nar Shaddaa, sir,” the man with the blaster muzzle at Garne’s back said. “We’ll drop him off once we hit Korriban. We can’t afford anymore unscheduled stops. Until then keep him in one of the cells.” The man behind Garne nodded and nudged him again. “Go!” Garne gulped and walked. Korriban? Garne had never heard of this planet. But, little news reached the ears of the people on Nar Shaddaa anyway. The cell he was placed in was small, dank, and smelled up mold. Shivering, Garne settled into the hard bed.
About three days later, the ship Garne was captive on lurched out of hyperspace. The shuttle landed at a base on this planet Korriban. Then, a man in a dull gray tunic stepped to Garne’s cage, a blaster ready in his right hand, and let Garne out. “Come on you. You’ll be left here. You’re our Captain was feeling generous. If he wasn’t on a scheduled delivery with the Sith Empire, he probably would have launched out of an airlock or tossed you in the middle of a desert.” The man sneered at Garne. Garne remained silent. The man led him to a city, then turned around, heading back to his ship. So, now Garne was stranded on a strange planet.
What a situation! Garne walked into a cantina and sat down in a corner, trying to look casual. The scorching heat of this planet forced him to strip his gray cloak off. He looked around the place. Aliens of all kinds sat around the establishment, drinking and talking, gambling too. Sighing, Garne went back out into the scorching heat. He might as well find a job or do some exploration. The hair laying across his back made the heat almost unbearable. And, the dark clothing he wore made it worse. He found a job that paid well enough. He spent two year in the settlement on Korriban. In those two years, he had earned enough to money to buy a small apartment and a hand-held blaster that could be concealed in any of his tunics. The crimes on Korriban almost competed with those on Nar Shaddaa.
One day, Garne decided to do a little exploration, like he had planned to do the day he was dropped off on this planet by those smugglers. He walked to a nearby shop that sold land speeders. He bought the cheapest one, having just enough money. He mounted it and took off. He flew into the desert. He soon learned of other cities on the planet. He also grew aware of tombs of feared that people called Dark Jedi. Garne had heard of Jedi, but not Dark Jedi. He dismounted the speeder and began to poke around one of the tombs. He walked to a statue of tall, slender-looking man. Though the statue was cracked and eroded in places, Garne could make out that the man looked possessed, haunted.
Garne stepped over to another statue but tripped halfway through his step. He looked behind him to see what had caught his foot. A small cylinder stuck out of the ground. He reached over to it and wrenched it from the sand. He looked it over, then found a small button. He pushed it. A white-green blade popped out, barely audible in the heavy sunlight. Blinking and rubbing his eyes to make sure it was real, Garne looked at the blade. Had he just uncovered a forgotten weapon? He pressed the button again and the blade disappeared back into the small handle. Garne knew what it was by the time he had made it back to his apartment. He had slowly regained knowledge he never knew he lost as he grew farther away from the tombs.
Something was fishy about them. Something unexplained. With his new weapon, Garne felt excitement rush over him. He strapped the lightsaber to his left boot. Over the years, Garne practiced with the uncovered weapon leg ended to be the weapon on the great and powerful, mystical Jedi. Garne grew into a handsome young man on Korriban, by now the age of twenty. He wore his hair in a style that suited the harsh environment of Korriban. He tied it in a ponytail that hung down his back. He had also gotten a piercing on his left ear. He was told it resembled the fang of something called a Krayt Dragon from a place called Tatooine.
Garne was twenty now and had finally earned enough money to buy a small ship to get off this desolate planet. He decided he would visit Tatooine. He heard it was much worse than Korriban but decided to see it for himself. Over the years, Garne had picked up a little on flying. Enough to make it to a nearby planet. Within two days, Garne arrived on Tatooine. He landed at a small landing pad, after paying a small fee. Indeed this place was harsh, but not as harsh as Korriban, Garne decided. Garne’s black boots crunched into the sand as he walked down the sandy ramp of his ship. Maybe he would get lucky here like he had in his earlier life. Garne’s reflexives had gotten much more heightened over the years, but only seemed to be unlocked in the most dangerous of situations, as did his nightmares returned and his luck seemed to follow him.
But, maybe he would get lucky and get some sort of business. He smirked a little to himself as he walked to a small cantina and ordered a drink. He drank it down quickly and exited the place. He returned to his ship and went to sleep. He needed to rest. That night he had one of his nightmares. A small orange-and black clad freighter’s fuel tanks were sabotaged and as it went to takeoff it exploded over the spaceport Garne was currently sleeping at. He awoke with a start. It was still daylight. He walked to the exit ramp of his ship and looked out. Near the sky a ship suddenly burst into flames and exploded, coming crashing down to its sandy grave. Garne’s eyes went wide and his skin pale.
He shook his head and ran full speed to the controls of his ship. He started it up. And, within the hour he was launching away from Tatooine. For the next couple of years, Garne spent his time traveling the galaxy, discovering other worlds he had not ever heard of. He also tried his best to block his nightmares that came so randomly. His efforts proved unsuccessful. He needed an answer as to why these things happened. He went on a search for anyone who could tell him.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 7
Leadership: 3
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 6
Alignment : 0
RP Sample: Garne woke up from his slumber quite suddenly. Too suddenly. He went lightheaded as he shot up from his bed. Regaining his balance, he tried his best to replay the image he had just seen in his nightmare. Sweat was starting to trickle down his forehead and making his shirt stick to his chest. His long hair was matted to his face from sweat as well. Another nightmare had come. Another one! Shaking off his tiredness, Garne made his way to the window of the hotel he was staying at, tying up his black hair. The earring dangling from his left ear glinted in the moonlight.
He watched as the event of his nightmare unfolded. A small ship came in from orbit, but didn’t land. It went into a sudden barrel roll and crashed into another ship, exploding on contact . Cursing himself, Garne got dressed, gathered his things and made his way to his ship. He took off from the landing pad on Bespin and launched back into space. He was fleeing yet again from another of his nightmares.
Whiping sleep from his eyes, Garne maneuvered his way around the sparse traffic. Once clear, he put all the speed his ship ahd in it toward the black sky above. As soon as he reached the stars, he began making calculations for a planet out of the way, peaceful. Some place he could clear his mind, perhaps be alone. Away from the voices in his head.
The hyperspace trip to the unknown regions of space took a few days. Garne's ship came out of hyperspace over an icy looking planet. The chart identified it as Ilum. Perhaps the locals would be nice, if there were any locals that is. Garne landed on a secure looking glacier. He got up from the pilot's seat and went to get some warmer clothes on.
After equiping himself with the lightsaber he had found and his blaster, he exited the ship. He looked around. Then, suddenly the voices in his head grew to a volume that almost made his head explode. He dropped to his knees, gripping his head with both hands tightly. He looekd up through streaming eyes. A man in robes stood before him. He reminded garne of some sort of wizard.
