Post by Dire Wolf on Feb 10, 2009 22:14:59 GMT -5
Faction: Mandalorian
Department: Mand'alor
Rank: Mandalore
Name: Malak Vevut
Race: Aphithiri, Warrior offshoot
Age: 51
Height: 8'
Weight: 450lbs
Appearance:
Mandalore the Liberator is a man that stands more than two feet above most men, and his muscles cause his pale skin to ripple in a brutish, barbaric way. Mal's otherwise jet black hair has been clipped down to the point where he is nearly bald and his face is always clean shaven despite the fact that it's rarely seen. Beautiful amethyst eyes seem to shine out from a brutish face and a rather blocky head. No tattoos are embedded underneath the man's skin, and will refuse to get one simply because he sees no purpose in them.
Far too many scars mar Mandalore's skin. He is never seen outside of his armor. This is quite a turn from the Malak that everyone knew prior to the invasion of Shogun. Some have rumored that he is wounded and requires the armor to live, but he vehemently denies such foolishness.
Personality:
Malak is a man fraught with such a strange dichotomy. When one sees the eight foot tall ogrish brute in full armor, one expects him to be some kind of intemperate beast. Nothing could be further from the truth. Put simply, Malak is a giant with a heart of gold despite his upbringing and title. He will go out of his way to help a friend, or protect a child. He also never strikes a woman unless he has to, and even then it's to subdue rather than to kill.
Yet he has the capability to turn into a stoic beast who's cunning is matched only by his martial prowess and brutality. He shows no mercy to his enemies, and gives cowards no quarter. The man has something of a personal vendetta to fulfill with the republic, as he blames them for the death of his wife, unborn son, and the tribulations his long lost daughter has been forced to go through. He likes the Empire no more, but is more than willing to pick the perceived lesser evil.
At the same time, Mandalore is long sighted. He believes that his ultimate goal is to ensure that his people are alive at the turn of the next century. He will do anything to ensure that happens, even give up on an old vendetta or side with an enemy that has backstabbed the Mando'ade in the past.
Weapons:
Mandalore's Besk'ad
Mandalore's Rifle
Birth place: Aphithir / Nar'Al'Adder
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 9
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 4
Leadership: 7
Unarmed: 5
Melee Weapons: 9
Ranged Weapons: 6
Alignment: +1
Bio:
Malak Vevut was not born of a man and a woman's love, nor was he spawned from a passionate night of lust. He was created by the spray of a cold machine fertilizing an egg that rested in a over-large test tube. A machine further altered the genes of the growing fetus to something reminiscent of a giant in children's tales. Malak was not the first man to be changed in such a way, and he certainly wasn't the last. This practice was common among his people, for he was a "true born" warrior. All else was considered to be equal to the scum beneath one's boot.
Malak Vevut, then Malak Kra'nelen, was first released from his tube when he was six years old. Prior to being released he had been played multiple audio files so that he could learn language, walking, and other such basics of life. Electrodes were attached to his muscles so that they would grow strong instead of weaken in the floating tube. When he was finally released, the closest thing to a father he had was his training master. From that moment on he was trained as one would expect a warrior to be trained. There was no mercy because he was small, new to the world, or innocent. Innocence could not last in their world. It had to be squashed. Killed, otherwise one would grow soft and not perform the duties of a warrior.
The next ten years were challenging for the boy they called a weapon. They not only pushed his physical limits but tested his mental ones as well. History, philosophy, mathematics, science, and art were no strangers to the boy. While he may have been taught academics, he was taught how to fight with his fists and his trusty Hra'kram. Some elements of sword warfare were also taught, but his rifle could double as a club that was almost as effective as the sword at his hip should the situation dictate it to be necessary.
He was first inducted into the Clan Kra'nelen's military when he turned thirteen, though he wasn't expected to fight until much later. Mal was essentially a squire for a true-born who had actually accomplished something besides being released from his tube in his life. During this time he was expected to learn what it was meant to be a warrior and a man. In reality all that he learned how to do was clean armor and mend the wounds of his mentor. Four years of that had him ripping his hair out to be inducted into the army.
Instead of being able to drive on his birthday, Mal was inducted into the army. Despite the fact that this was his wish since he was first cognizant, he didn't smile. He didn't cry. He bore this accomplishment with the stony bearing of a warrior.
Mal had his first taste of combat after his own clan had attacked a rival one for the claim to a particularly fertile patch of land. He loved combat. There was just something about the way another man's life drained from his eyes that thrilled Mal beyond words. Killing a worthy opponent brought him a high that was far beyond anything that a drug or drink could induce. Once the rival clan began to lose they resorted to unsavory tactics. Namely guerrilla warfare and improvised explosive devices. They continued to lose despite this, and the war was nearly over in four years.
One day his squad was ambushed by the rival clan's guerrillas, and most of his unit was killed. Except him. That is when he went through on of the biggest dishonors that an Aphithiri warrior can go through: He was captured. The next two years where hell for Mal as he was forced to make rival clan weapons in concentration camp style conditions. When the war drew to a close, Malak knew that he could never return to his clan. His brothers. Capture in a society who's mantra is "death before dishonor" is practically a death sentence. He considered performing ritual suicide to regain some meager amount of honor he had left, but part of him just wouldn't allow him to.
Malak would live to not only regain his honor, but prove himself to his brothers. They would sing of his name until the great wastes claimed Aphithir.
He left the planet the next day, armed with only his rifle and his warsword. Armor was for cowards in his view. It was difficult for the man to adjust to the radically different universe outside of his homeworld. Once he had managed to adjust, though, the man was a force to be reckoned with. He exchanged his services for money, and would do anything that was asked of him. Protection. Murder. Retrieval. Capture. Practically anything was good enough for him.
One of these particular contracts had him traveling to Coruscant. It was here that he met Rene Vevut, a stunningly beautiful Mandalorian bounty hunter. Their quarry was the same. He instantly struck her fancy and she his, they began to work on missions and bounties together where he proved himself to be extremely courageous and skilled. Rene was a capable warrior as well, and one who's skills were peerless even on his homeworld. Even if she used armor.
Five years after the two joined forces Rene became pregnant. To say that it was a surprise would be an understatement. Not only was Rene a mix of many species, but he was genetically modified. For the longest time the man believed that he was sterile. It was shortly after this discovery that Rene offered to take Malak back to Mandalore so they could be wed, and he was made into a vode.
After the mission was complete they both left for Mandalore to be wed.
The two settled down on the planet of Mandalore with the rest of the Vevut clan, which was now the clan that he became a part of. He was happy with his life. Iilia'laar, his daughter, had turned taken to training just about as quickly as she took to breathing. The little kids were his pride and joy. As time went on they only furthered his opinion of their fighting skill. If the twins had been fourteen instead of five when the soldiers came to their village, the two may have been able to make a difference. The fledgling family couldn't be so fortunate, though.
The vevut clan holding that Malak lived in was very pro militia, and as such harbored them as they waged their guerrilla campaign against the Republic Military. It was because of this that the Republic attacked the village, and a pair of Jedi with them. While the Jedi and republic made an effort to only attack those that fired back the ensuing confusion and fog of war made everyone a target. Rene was shot through the throat by an infantry man while she moved to pull one of her wounded brothers from death.
Malak lost it. He descended down onto the infantry unit with his fists and his magnetic accelerator. The younger of the two jedi was slain that day, and if it wasn't for the Jedi's power to put him into morichiro he surely would have killed the other. When he awoke Ilia'laar and Choruk was gone, and his clansman told him that the Jedi was seen walking away with the two clutched in his arms.
He spent years searching for his lost children, but the the Jedi held onto their younglings very tightly and there was no way an eight foot tall mandalorian would ever sneak into the temple. Malak Vevut joined the Mandalorian Military just after his thirty-nineth birthday, and his resignation in attempting to save his now fifteen year old daughter. By then the two would barely recognize him as a parent, let alone care that they were all he had left. His job was to move from world to world in the Mandalore sector, teaching his fellow vode how to adequately battle the republic. After two years of fighting shadow wars against the republic, he was officially put into the special forces.
After eleven years and a laundry list of exploits, Malak Vevut was made the leader of his people after the last one's disappearance. The title of Mandalore was not a title that he wanted, but one that he needed to hold for the good of his people. Assuming the reigns of the Mandalorian people was difficult at first, but Mal eventually managed to grasp the concepts of leading on such a large scale.
The new Mandalore didn't even wait for his coronation before enacting the plan and target of the previous one: the reclamation of Ordo. It would prove to be a glorious battle, but one that he wouldn't see the end of.
RP Sample:
Stealth. That was not exactly one of the things that Malak Vevut did best, it was hard to hide an 8 foot tall man clad in beskar, but he managed. He observed the small republic patrol as they unknowingly headed towards the ambush. How Ironic. The whole reason that Mal found himself in his current position was from an ambush, being captured back on Aphithir crushed him... but looking back on it he is glad that he was captured by those dishonorable swine. The gruff voice of Snake whispering through the COMM thrust his attention back into reality.
They are in position. We will open up once you fire that BFG, Mal.
The man grunted as he aimed in at the guy that looked to be the officer of the group. Less than a second later a 15mm tungsten round sped out of the gun going at nearly 10,000 feet per second, it flew through the man's anti-laser armor like a hot knife through butter. At first the troopers probably would not know what was happening, as the Magnetic Accelerator sounded much like a cork popping out of a fancy wine bottle. Mal fired again, this time he fired three round bursts... two in the chest and one in the head. The rest of his squad revealed themselves and opened up on the small column, the whole area around the Republic troopers looked like a maelstrom of red, green, and blue. It didn't take long for the last republic soldier to fall, after the man did he stepped out of cover and into the killing field.
If only the rest of this op went smooth, we would be set.
The deep voice came from Mal's mouth as he steeped on a chest, he instantly heard the cracking of bone. He reloaded his magazine and started off towards the compound.
Department: Mand'alor
Rank: Mandalore
Name: Malak Vevut
Race: Aphithiri, Warrior offshoot
Age: 51
Height: 8'
Weight: 450lbs
Appearance:
Mandalore the Liberator is a man that stands more than two feet above most men, and his muscles cause his pale skin to ripple in a brutish, barbaric way. Mal's otherwise jet black hair has been clipped down to the point where he is nearly bald and his face is always clean shaven despite the fact that it's rarely seen. Beautiful amethyst eyes seem to shine out from a brutish face and a rather blocky head. No tattoos are embedded underneath the man's skin, and will refuse to get one simply because he sees no purpose in them.
Far too many scars mar Mandalore's skin. He is never seen outside of his armor. This is quite a turn from the Malak that everyone knew prior to the invasion of Shogun. Some have rumored that he is wounded and requires the armor to live, but he vehemently denies such foolishness.
Personality:
Malak is a man fraught with such a strange dichotomy. When one sees the eight foot tall ogrish brute in full armor, one expects him to be some kind of intemperate beast. Nothing could be further from the truth. Put simply, Malak is a giant with a heart of gold despite his upbringing and title. He will go out of his way to help a friend, or protect a child. He also never strikes a woman unless he has to, and even then it's to subdue rather than to kill.
Yet he has the capability to turn into a stoic beast who's cunning is matched only by his martial prowess and brutality. He shows no mercy to his enemies, and gives cowards no quarter. The man has something of a personal vendetta to fulfill with the republic, as he blames them for the death of his wife, unborn son, and the tribulations his long lost daughter has been forced to go through. He likes the Empire no more, but is more than willing to pick the perceived lesser evil.
At the same time, Mandalore is long sighted. He believes that his ultimate goal is to ensure that his people are alive at the turn of the next century. He will do anything to ensure that happens, even give up on an old vendetta or side with an enemy that has backstabbed the Mando'ade in the past.
Weapons:
Mandalore's Besk'ad
Mandalore's Rifle
Birth place: Aphithir / Nar'Al'Adder
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 9
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 4
Leadership: 7
Unarmed: 5
Melee Weapons: 9
Ranged Weapons: 6
Alignment: +1
Bio:
Malak Vevut was not born of a man and a woman's love, nor was he spawned from a passionate night of lust. He was created by the spray of a cold machine fertilizing an egg that rested in a over-large test tube. A machine further altered the genes of the growing fetus to something reminiscent of a giant in children's tales. Malak was not the first man to be changed in such a way, and he certainly wasn't the last. This practice was common among his people, for he was a "true born" warrior. All else was considered to be equal to the scum beneath one's boot.
Malak Vevut, then Malak Kra'nelen, was first released from his tube when he was six years old. Prior to being released he had been played multiple audio files so that he could learn language, walking, and other such basics of life. Electrodes were attached to his muscles so that they would grow strong instead of weaken in the floating tube. When he was finally released, the closest thing to a father he had was his training master. From that moment on he was trained as one would expect a warrior to be trained. There was no mercy because he was small, new to the world, or innocent. Innocence could not last in their world. It had to be squashed. Killed, otherwise one would grow soft and not perform the duties of a warrior.
The next ten years were challenging for the boy they called a weapon. They not only pushed his physical limits but tested his mental ones as well. History, philosophy, mathematics, science, and art were no strangers to the boy. While he may have been taught academics, he was taught how to fight with his fists and his trusty Hra'kram. Some elements of sword warfare were also taught, but his rifle could double as a club that was almost as effective as the sword at his hip should the situation dictate it to be necessary.
He was first inducted into the Clan Kra'nelen's military when he turned thirteen, though he wasn't expected to fight until much later. Mal was essentially a squire for a true-born who had actually accomplished something besides being released from his tube in his life. During this time he was expected to learn what it was meant to be a warrior and a man. In reality all that he learned how to do was clean armor and mend the wounds of his mentor. Four years of that had him ripping his hair out to be inducted into the army.
Instead of being able to drive on his birthday, Mal was inducted into the army. Despite the fact that this was his wish since he was first cognizant, he didn't smile. He didn't cry. He bore this accomplishment with the stony bearing of a warrior.
Mal had his first taste of combat after his own clan had attacked a rival one for the claim to a particularly fertile patch of land. He loved combat. There was just something about the way another man's life drained from his eyes that thrilled Mal beyond words. Killing a worthy opponent brought him a high that was far beyond anything that a drug or drink could induce. Once the rival clan began to lose they resorted to unsavory tactics. Namely guerrilla warfare and improvised explosive devices. They continued to lose despite this, and the war was nearly over in four years.
One day his squad was ambushed by the rival clan's guerrillas, and most of his unit was killed. Except him. That is when he went through on of the biggest dishonors that an Aphithiri warrior can go through: He was captured. The next two years where hell for Mal as he was forced to make rival clan weapons in concentration camp style conditions. When the war drew to a close, Malak knew that he could never return to his clan. His brothers. Capture in a society who's mantra is "death before dishonor" is practically a death sentence. He considered performing ritual suicide to regain some meager amount of honor he had left, but part of him just wouldn't allow him to.
Malak would live to not only regain his honor, but prove himself to his brothers. They would sing of his name until the great wastes claimed Aphithir.
He left the planet the next day, armed with only his rifle and his warsword. Armor was for cowards in his view. It was difficult for the man to adjust to the radically different universe outside of his homeworld. Once he had managed to adjust, though, the man was a force to be reckoned with. He exchanged his services for money, and would do anything that was asked of him. Protection. Murder. Retrieval. Capture. Practically anything was good enough for him.
One of these particular contracts had him traveling to Coruscant. It was here that he met Rene Vevut, a stunningly beautiful Mandalorian bounty hunter. Their quarry was the same. He instantly struck her fancy and she his, they began to work on missions and bounties together where he proved himself to be extremely courageous and skilled. Rene was a capable warrior as well, and one who's skills were peerless even on his homeworld. Even if she used armor.
Five years after the two joined forces Rene became pregnant. To say that it was a surprise would be an understatement. Not only was Rene a mix of many species, but he was genetically modified. For the longest time the man believed that he was sterile. It was shortly after this discovery that Rene offered to take Malak back to Mandalore so they could be wed, and he was made into a vode.
After the mission was complete they both left for Mandalore to be wed.
The two settled down on the planet of Mandalore with the rest of the Vevut clan, which was now the clan that he became a part of. He was happy with his life. Iilia'laar, his daughter, had turned taken to training just about as quickly as she took to breathing. The little kids were his pride and joy. As time went on they only furthered his opinion of their fighting skill. If the twins had been fourteen instead of five when the soldiers came to their village, the two may have been able to make a difference. The fledgling family couldn't be so fortunate, though.
The vevut clan holding that Malak lived in was very pro militia, and as such harbored them as they waged their guerrilla campaign against the Republic Military. It was because of this that the Republic attacked the village, and a pair of Jedi with them. While the Jedi and republic made an effort to only attack those that fired back the ensuing confusion and fog of war made everyone a target. Rene was shot through the throat by an infantry man while she moved to pull one of her wounded brothers from death.
Malak lost it. He descended down onto the infantry unit with his fists and his magnetic accelerator. The younger of the two jedi was slain that day, and if it wasn't for the Jedi's power to put him into morichiro he surely would have killed the other. When he awoke Ilia'laar and Choruk was gone, and his clansman told him that the Jedi was seen walking away with the two clutched in his arms.
He spent years searching for his lost children, but the the Jedi held onto their younglings very tightly and there was no way an eight foot tall mandalorian would ever sneak into the temple. Malak Vevut joined the Mandalorian Military just after his thirty-nineth birthday, and his resignation in attempting to save his now fifteen year old daughter. By then the two would barely recognize him as a parent, let alone care that they were all he had left. His job was to move from world to world in the Mandalore sector, teaching his fellow vode how to adequately battle the republic. After two years of fighting shadow wars against the republic, he was officially put into the special forces.
After eleven years and a laundry list of exploits, Malak Vevut was made the leader of his people after the last one's disappearance. The title of Mandalore was not a title that he wanted, but one that he needed to hold for the good of his people. Assuming the reigns of the Mandalorian people was difficult at first, but Mal eventually managed to grasp the concepts of leading on such a large scale.
The new Mandalore didn't even wait for his coronation before enacting the plan and target of the previous one: the reclamation of Ordo. It would prove to be a glorious battle, but one that he wouldn't see the end of.
RP Sample:
Stealth. That was not exactly one of the things that Malak Vevut did best, it was hard to hide an 8 foot tall man clad in beskar, but he managed. He observed the small republic patrol as they unknowingly headed towards the ambush. How Ironic. The whole reason that Mal found himself in his current position was from an ambush, being captured back on Aphithir crushed him... but looking back on it he is glad that he was captured by those dishonorable swine. The gruff voice of Snake whispering through the COMM thrust his attention back into reality.
They are in position. We will open up once you fire that BFG, Mal.
The man grunted as he aimed in at the guy that looked to be the officer of the group. Less than a second later a 15mm tungsten round sped out of the gun going at nearly 10,000 feet per second, it flew through the man's anti-laser armor like a hot knife through butter. At first the troopers probably would not know what was happening, as the Magnetic Accelerator sounded much like a cork popping out of a fancy wine bottle. Mal fired again, this time he fired three round bursts... two in the chest and one in the head. The rest of his squad revealed themselves and opened up on the small column, the whole area around the Republic troopers looked like a maelstrom of red, green, and blue. It didn't take long for the last republic soldier to fall, after the man did he stepped out of cover and into the killing field.
If only the rest of this op went smooth, we would be set.
The deep voice came from Mal's mouth as he steeped on a chest, he instantly heard the cracking of bone. He reloaded his magazine and started off towards the compound.
