Post by BlackAdder on Feb 19, 2012 1:23:37 GMT -5
Name: Derrial (der-EYE-al) Hoban
Race: Human
Age: 16
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 160lbs
Appearance: Derrial is a hard, athletic looking youth. He was born with a melanin deficiancy, which accounts for his white locks. His long white hair hangs loosely over deep blue eyes. There is a gentle hardness about his features that seems to show his dual, fire-and-ice personality. His face, while kind, seems to say that if he is angered, the offender is going to have a bad time.
His movements are fluid, and each one is made with a sense of purpose.
He wears standard Jedi raiments, consisting of white, loose fitting pants and tunic, and a black robe. There is something about the contrast that appeals to him. He keeps his lightsaber on his right hip where he can get to it at a moments notice.
Personality:
Derrial is calm, cool, and personable. He has a great respect for authority, especially higher ranking Jedi. He loves interacting with others, and holds his friends close to him as his own beating heart. He is a skilled diplomat for his age, able to connect with other beings easily.
However, in the heat of battle or when otherwise provoked, the boy's anger rears its ugly head. He is brash and impulsive, rarely thinking before acting. He could be a good diplomat, if he used his words before his lightsaber. When spoken to in a condescending manner, he loses all respect for the speaker, regardless of rank. In his eyes, the speaker is now his equal, and he will deal with the offender as such.
He has abandoned his childhood dreams of being "the fiercest warrior in the Order". In the time he spent with his first master, he saw how diplomacy was often a much better solution than more aggressive tactics. He hopes to one day overcome his anger, so that he might become as great a diplomat and fighter as his old master.
Birth place: Naboo
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Padawan
Lightsaber: Dual Phase
Color: Green
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho: 3
Makashi: N/A
Soresu: N/A
Ataru: 1
Shien / Djem So: N/A
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman: N/A
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield
Juyo: N/A
Double Bladed Combat: N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 1
Telepathic: 1
Body: 2
Sense: 2
Protection: 2
Healing: 1
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 4
Speed: 6
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 1
Ranged Weapons: 1
Force Attunement: +3
Bio:
Derrial Hoban was born on Naboo in 3617 to Bretyn and Aiden Hoban. They were an upper-middle class family. Aiden was a textile merchant, specializing in luxurious fabrics. The wealthy of Naboo would pay a pretty sum for his finest stock. Bretyn had been a fishmonger’s daughter. It was not her appearance that drew Aiden to her. Though she was pretty, she wasn’t what one might call a ‘remarkable beauty’. No, it was an incident in the market that made the young merchant notice her. A small child, running through the crowd as children are wont to do, had lost his balance and went careening into Aiden’s stand. The resulting scrapes on the child’s forehead and hands set him into a fit of tears. Bretyn was there in a heartbeat, calming the boy. When words seemed to fail, she began to sing. Everything around Aiden faded as the soft lullaby reached his ears. In that moment, he was lost. He would forever belong to that kindhearted girl who sang the Fisherman’s Lullaby.
Derrial’s earliest impressions are of the beautiful open plains of his homeworld. At his first year checkup, a blood test revealed a high midichlorian count. Although it pained them to give up their new child, the Hobans were a noble sort of folk, and they swelled with pride that their son could be one of the galaxy’s great protectors. He arrived at the Temple just a few weeks after his first birthday.
Youngling
During his time at the Temple, it was apparent his greatest skill was in lightsaber combat. He was not much good at using the Force to manipulate his surroundings, but he had a knack for using it to bolster his natural abilities. In the practice arena, he would call on the Force to make his already fluid movements even more graceful, and his blows more powerful. However, he had a major weakness. Whenever he would begin to fall behind in a fight, he would get frustrated. Not one to be on the defensive, this would lead him to make increasingly aggressive and foolhardy attacks. Sometimes it would work, and he would crush his opponent’s defenses. More often than not, a wild attempt to score a hit would leave him wide open for a counter attack.
As he got older, his frustration turned to anger. When he would fail in the practice arena, his dark mood would follow him for the rest of the day, interfering with his other responsibilities. Eventually, he learned to how to control his anger through meditation. As a result, he spent a lot of time in the Fountain Room. The sound of moving water soothed him in a way nothing else could. He did not know it, but it was because when he was an infant, the sounds of a distant waterfall could be heard through the open window of his nursery, gently sending him off to sleep night after night.
Other than his sessions in the Fountain Room, the only other thing that could calm him was his friend, Kaywin. The young Miraluka girl was his one constant companion. Kaywin seemed drawn to him, as he was to her. The impulsive, unpredictable Human, and the calculated Miraluka balanced each other out. Throughout the course of their friendship, they started to rub off on one another. Derrial began to develop a calmer personality, and the soft spoken Kaywin got more assertive. WhereKaywin had complete control over her emotions, Derrial did not. The boy would get angry, or at least aggravated, by the smallest irritant. When Kaywin would feel his mood shift, she would try to calm Ry-bean, as she had come to call him, and if that failed, she took him to the Fountain Room. Other younglings overheard the Miraluka’s pet name for her friend and began using it themselves. Though he pretended to hate the nickname, he always tolerated it when it came from Kaywin. Never when it came from other younglings. It didn’t take long before the name was used solely by Kaywin.
He and Kaywin shared their deepest desires with each other. Derrial wanted to be a fierce warrior, so lethal that the Council would send him on the most dangerous, exciting missions. Kaywin wanted to be a healer. Though she wasn’t the shy girl he first met, she didn’t have the charisma to be a diplomat, and she accepted that. She wanted to be the one helping others, tending the sick and injured.
Three months into his twelfth year, Derrial noticed that his lightsaber practice sessions were being frequented by a young Knight who would often stand by the Master who oversaw the training. He was a tall, slender Human with short blonde hair and grey eyes. The man would watch intently, his eyes following Derrial’s moves, occasionally leaning over to make a comment to the Master or to ask a question. This continued for another six months. As he was nearing his thirteenth birthday, young Derrial began to worry that he wouldn’t be chosen, and that he would spend his days with the agricorps or some other lesser calling.
He was meditating in the Fountain Room after a particularly bad fight when the Jedi called on him. He introduced himself as Rhyke Sorak. When the man spoke, he spoke with laughter in his voice. After a brief conversation, once Rhyke had gotten a feel for the youngling, he invited the boy to be his Padawan.
Padawan
During the first two years of his Padawanship, Derrial went mostly on diplomatic missions. He considered his Master the best diplomat in the galaxy. It amazed him how Rhyke was able to diffuse potentially hostile situations with a soft word. He would hang on every word his Master said, hoping to learn how to be just like him. He learned fast, and was soon allowed to handle less serious matters, such as local property disputes, on his own.
Rhyke continued to train his pupil in Shii-Cho, but he also began instructing him in Ataru. The reason for this, he explained to Derrial, was because rather than work against his aggressive nature, he should learn to use it to his advantage. He also trained him to use the Force to enhance his Sense and Protection abilities as well as Body. What the boy had in offense, he lacked in defense, and his Master believed this would help balance him out. He could learn the other stuff later.
On his fifteenth birthday, Derrial received a lightsaber crystal from his Master. It was time he built his own lightsaber. He built the hilt in eight days, and spent the next three weeks meditating over the crystal, infusing his essence with the gem. He activated the weapon immediately on completion. The vibrant green blade hummed to life, and Derrial felt an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment.
Near the end of his fifteenth year, Derrial and his Master were sent on a mission to Felucia to investigate rumors of a Sith military presence there. Their pilot set down in a clearing, and the two Jedi disembarked. They had been on planet for only a few minutes when they were attacked by two Dark Jedi; a Zabrak and another Human. Rhyke was more than a match for each of them, but they significantly outclassed Derrial. Padawan and Master stood back to back, their faces illuminated in green and yellow from their weapons. As the assailants pressed their attack, Derrial was forced to focus entirely on defense, lest he be overtaken by the Human. As they fought, they worked their way back to the ship. Derrial was barely able to keep the Dark Jedi’s lightsaber away from his body. While Derrial fought the Human, Rhyke took on the Zabrak, staying on the offensive.
Finally, the dark Human scored a hit on Derrial, singeing his arm. Upon hearing his Padawan cry out, Rhyke turned and impaled the Dark Jedi as he recovered from his failed attack. The yellow blade went straight through his chest, and the Human slumped to the ground. Seeing an opportunity, the Zabrak went in for the kill. Derrial shouted a warning. As Rhyke turned around, he saw there was nothing he could do to avoid being hit. He deflected the blade enough that it went into his abdomen, missing his spine by inches. He watched the Zabrak relax, sure that he had defeated the Jedi. Seeing that his guard was down, he brought his yellow blade up and removed the Dark Jedi’s head.
Derrial helped his Master back to the ship, where Rhyke ordered the pilot to take them to Coruscant. Derrial scrambled to save his Master, doing everything he could think of to keep the man clinging to life just a little longer. Finally, the older Jedi placed his hand on Derrial’s arm. “I’m finished. There is nothing you can do for me now.” Derrial fought back the tears as Rhyke smiled at him. “You’ve made me… so very proud.” The light left his eyes, and his hand fell from Derrial’s arm. When they reached Coruscant, Derrial gave the Council a full account of what had happened. When asked how his Master had died, he simply replied, “He died saving me.”
Present day
Derrial stayed in the Temple now. His sixteenth birthday had come to pass, and though the Temple was filled with thousands of beings, he felt truly alone. His friend, Kaywin, was only there briefly when he arrived. She had heard of the tragedy that had befallen Rhyke, and comforted her childhood companion as best she could in the time she had. When she left, he retreated inward, spending his days in meditation in the Fountain Room or dueling other Padawans on their way through. When he slept, he had recurring nightmares of the fateful encounter that had stripped Derrial of the best thing he ever had. He blamed himself, believing that if he was the Padawan Rhyke deserved, he would still be alive.
RP Sample:
Derrial and Rhyke trudged through the dense Felucian jungle, the sounds of indigenous wildlife echoing off the massive fungal trees. They had been only been walking for a few minutes, but the heat and the humidity made it feel like an hour. Sweat beaded the Padawan’s brow; his tunic clung to his body like some parasitic leech. He wiped his hair from his face as he glanced sideways at the older Jedi. He hadn’t said a word since leaving the ship. He seemed… distant. “Why so quiet, Master?”
The older Jedi broke from his reverie. “I was just thinking back to the day I took you on.” He offered up a smile. It was just as lively as it had been all those years ago, but now there were a few more lines around the corners of his mouth. “Do you still remember?”
The Padawan nodded, also smiling. “Like it was yesterday. It was the happiest day of my life.” It was true. Ever since he was chosen Derrial felt complete, as if a void in his being had been filled. He had learned so much in the four short years they had been together. It was Rhyke who taught him how to control his anger. If not for him, Derrial likely wouldn’t have survived long outside of the Temple. It was Rhyke’s idea to instruct him in Ataru, a form that harnessed Derrial’s aggression and made it something useful. “Master, could we work on my Ataru when we get back? It’s been a while since we have, and I feel confident in my ability to this point.” He looked at his Master with hopeful eyes.
Rhyke chuckled. “You think you’re ready to move on, do you?” His Padawan nodded earnestly. “It will get much more difficult from here on out. Maybe you’d rather try Soresu?” He tried his best to look serious, but the laughter in his eyes gave him away.
Derrial shook his head, laughing at the mention of Soresu, a form his master knew he had extreme difficulty with. “I am certain. I want to continue with Ataru. I don’t care how difficult it is. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He loved his Master as his own blood, equal parts father, brother, and friend. He would follow him anywhere, even unto death itself, if he let him.
The Jedi stopped and faced his Padawan, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Then we will start as soon as we get back. I promise.”
Race: Human
Age: 16
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 160lbs
Appearance: Derrial is a hard, athletic looking youth. He was born with a melanin deficiancy, which accounts for his white locks. His long white hair hangs loosely over deep blue eyes. There is a gentle hardness about his features that seems to show his dual, fire-and-ice personality. His face, while kind, seems to say that if he is angered, the offender is going to have a bad time.
His movements are fluid, and each one is made with a sense of purpose.
He wears standard Jedi raiments, consisting of white, loose fitting pants and tunic, and a black robe. There is something about the contrast that appeals to him. He keeps his lightsaber on his right hip where he can get to it at a moments notice.
Personality:
Derrial is calm, cool, and personable. He has a great respect for authority, especially higher ranking Jedi. He loves interacting with others, and holds his friends close to him as his own beating heart. He is a skilled diplomat for his age, able to connect with other beings easily.
However, in the heat of battle or when otherwise provoked, the boy's anger rears its ugly head. He is brash and impulsive, rarely thinking before acting. He could be a good diplomat, if he used his words before his lightsaber. When spoken to in a condescending manner, he loses all respect for the speaker, regardless of rank. In his eyes, the speaker is now his equal, and he will deal with the offender as such.
He has abandoned his childhood dreams of being "the fiercest warrior in the Order". In the time he spent with his first master, he saw how diplomacy was often a much better solution than more aggressive tactics. He hopes to one day overcome his anger, so that he might become as great a diplomat and fighter as his old master.
Birth place: Naboo
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Padawan
Lightsaber: Dual Phase
Color: Green
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho: 3
Makashi: N/A
Soresu: N/A
Ataru: 1
Shien / Djem So: N/A
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman: N/A
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield
Juyo: N/A
Double Bladed Combat: N/A
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 1
Telepathic: 1
Body: 2
Sense: 2
Protection: 2
Healing: 1
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 4
Speed: 6
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 1
Ranged Weapons: 1
Force Attunement: +3
Bio:
Derrial Hoban was born on Naboo in 3617 to Bretyn and Aiden Hoban. They were an upper-middle class family. Aiden was a textile merchant, specializing in luxurious fabrics. The wealthy of Naboo would pay a pretty sum for his finest stock. Bretyn had been a fishmonger’s daughter. It was not her appearance that drew Aiden to her. Though she was pretty, she wasn’t what one might call a ‘remarkable beauty’. No, it was an incident in the market that made the young merchant notice her. A small child, running through the crowd as children are wont to do, had lost his balance and went careening into Aiden’s stand. The resulting scrapes on the child’s forehead and hands set him into a fit of tears. Bretyn was there in a heartbeat, calming the boy. When words seemed to fail, she began to sing. Everything around Aiden faded as the soft lullaby reached his ears. In that moment, he was lost. He would forever belong to that kindhearted girl who sang the Fisherman’s Lullaby.
Derrial’s earliest impressions are of the beautiful open plains of his homeworld. At his first year checkup, a blood test revealed a high midichlorian count. Although it pained them to give up their new child, the Hobans were a noble sort of folk, and they swelled with pride that their son could be one of the galaxy’s great protectors. He arrived at the Temple just a few weeks after his first birthday.
Youngling
During his time at the Temple, it was apparent his greatest skill was in lightsaber combat. He was not much good at using the Force to manipulate his surroundings, but he had a knack for using it to bolster his natural abilities. In the practice arena, he would call on the Force to make his already fluid movements even more graceful, and his blows more powerful. However, he had a major weakness. Whenever he would begin to fall behind in a fight, he would get frustrated. Not one to be on the defensive, this would lead him to make increasingly aggressive and foolhardy attacks. Sometimes it would work, and he would crush his opponent’s defenses. More often than not, a wild attempt to score a hit would leave him wide open for a counter attack.
As he got older, his frustration turned to anger. When he would fail in the practice arena, his dark mood would follow him for the rest of the day, interfering with his other responsibilities. Eventually, he learned to how to control his anger through meditation. As a result, he spent a lot of time in the Fountain Room. The sound of moving water soothed him in a way nothing else could. He did not know it, but it was because when he was an infant, the sounds of a distant waterfall could be heard through the open window of his nursery, gently sending him off to sleep night after night.
Other than his sessions in the Fountain Room, the only other thing that could calm him was his friend, Kaywin. The young Miraluka girl was his one constant companion. Kaywin seemed drawn to him, as he was to her. The impulsive, unpredictable Human, and the calculated Miraluka balanced each other out. Throughout the course of their friendship, they started to rub off on one another. Derrial began to develop a calmer personality, and the soft spoken Kaywin got more assertive. WhereKaywin had complete control over her emotions, Derrial did not. The boy would get angry, or at least aggravated, by the smallest irritant. When Kaywin would feel his mood shift, she would try to calm Ry-bean, as she had come to call him, and if that failed, she took him to the Fountain Room. Other younglings overheard the Miraluka’s pet name for her friend and began using it themselves. Though he pretended to hate the nickname, he always tolerated it when it came from Kaywin. Never when it came from other younglings. It didn’t take long before the name was used solely by Kaywin.
He and Kaywin shared their deepest desires with each other. Derrial wanted to be a fierce warrior, so lethal that the Council would send him on the most dangerous, exciting missions. Kaywin wanted to be a healer. Though she wasn’t the shy girl he first met, she didn’t have the charisma to be a diplomat, and she accepted that. She wanted to be the one helping others, tending the sick and injured.
Three months into his twelfth year, Derrial noticed that his lightsaber practice sessions were being frequented by a young Knight who would often stand by the Master who oversaw the training. He was a tall, slender Human with short blonde hair and grey eyes. The man would watch intently, his eyes following Derrial’s moves, occasionally leaning over to make a comment to the Master or to ask a question. This continued for another six months. As he was nearing his thirteenth birthday, young Derrial began to worry that he wouldn’t be chosen, and that he would spend his days with the agricorps or some other lesser calling.
He was meditating in the Fountain Room after a particularly bad fight when the Jedi called on him. He introduced himself as Rhyke Sorak. When the man spoke, he spoke with laughter in his voice. After a brief conversation, once Rhyke had gotten a feel for the youngling, he invited the boy to be his Padawan.
Padawan
During the first two years of his Padawanship, Derrial went mostly on diplomatic missions. He considered his Master the best diplomat in the galaxy. It amazed him how Rhyke was able to diffuse potentially hostile situations with a soft word. He would hang on every word his Master said, hoping to learn how to be just like him. He learned fast, and was soon allowed to handle less serious matters, such as local property disputes, on his own.
Rhyke continued to train his pupil in Shii-Cho, but he also began instructing him in Ataru. The reason for this, he explained to Derrial, was because rather than work against his aggressive nature, he should learn to use it to his advantage. He also trained him to use the Force to enhance his Sense and Protection abilities as well as Body. What the boy had in offense, he lacked in defense, and his Master believed this would help balance him out. He could learn the other stuff later.
On his fifteenth birthday, Derrial received a lightsaber crystal from his Master. It was time he built his own lightsaber. He built the hilt in eight days, and spent the next three weeks meditating over the crystal, infusing his essence with the gem. He activated the weapon immediately on completion. The vibrant green blade hummed to life, and Derrial felt an overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment.
Near the end of his fifteenth year, Derrial and his Master were sent on a mission to Felucia to investigate rumors of a Sith military presence there. Their pilot set down in a clearing, and the two Jedi disembarked. They had been on planet for only a few minutes when they were attacked by two Dark Jedi; a Zabrak and another Human. Rhyke was more than a match for each of them, but they significantly outclassed Derrial. Padawan and Master stood back to back, their faces illuminated in green and yellow from their weapons. As the assailants pressed their attack, Derrial was forced to focus entirely on defense, lest he be overtaken by the Human. As they fought, they worked their way back to the ship. Derrial was barely able to keep the Dark Jedi’s lightsaber away from his body. While Derrial fought the Human, Rhyke took on the Zabrak, staying on the offensive.
Finally, the dark Human scored a hit on Derrial, singeing his arm. Upon hearing his Padawan cry out, Rhyke turned and impaled the Dark Jedi as he recovered from his failed attack. The yellow blade went straight through his chest, and the Human slumped to the ground. Seeing an opportunity, the Zabrak went in for the kill. Derrial shouted a warning. As Rhyke turned around, he saw there was nothing he could do to avoid being hit. He deflected the blade enough that it went into his abdomen, missing his spine by inches. He watched the Zabrak relax, sure that he had defeated the Jedi. Seeing that his guard was down, he brought his yellow blade up and removed the Dark Jedi’s head.
Derrial helped his Master back to the ship, where Rhyke ordered the pilot to take them to Coruscant. Derrial scrambled to save his Master, doing everything he could think of to keep the man clinging to life just a little longer. Finally, the older Jedi placed his hand on Derrial’s arm. “I’m finished. There is nothing you can do for me now.” Derrial fought back the tears as Rhyke smiled at him. “You’ve made me… so very proud.” The light left his eyes, and his hand fell from Derrial’s arm. When they reached Coruscant, Derrial gave the Council a full account of what had happened. When asked how his Master had died, he simply replied, “He died saving me.”
Present day
Derrial stayed in the Temple now. His sixteenth birthday had come to pass, and though the Temple was filled with thousands of beings, he felt truly alone. His friend, Kaywin, was only there briefly when he arrived. She had heard of the tragedy that had befallen Rhyke, and comforted her childhood companion as best she could in the time she had. When she left, he retreated inward, spending his days in meditation in the Fountain Room or dueling other Padawans on their way through. When he slept, he had recurring nightmares of the fateful encounter that had stripped Derrial of the best thing he ever had. He blamed himself, believing that if he was the Padawan Rhyke deserved, he would still be alive.
RP Sample:
Derrial and Rhyke trudged through the dense Felucian jungle, the sounds of indigenous wildlife echoing off the massive fungal trees. They had been only been walking for a few minutes, but the heat and the humidity made it feel like an hour. Sweat beaded the Padawan’s brow; his tunic clung to his body like some parasitic leech. He wiped his hair from his face as he glanced sideways at the older Jedi. He hadn’t said a word since leaving the ship. He seemed… distant. “Why so quiet, Master?”
The older Jedi broke from his reverie. “I was just thinking back to the day I took you on.” He offered up a smile. It was just as lively as it had been all those years ago, but now there were a few more lines around the corners of his mouth. “Do you still remember?”
The Padawan nodded, also smiling. “Like it was yesterday. It was the happiest day of my life.” It was true. Ever since he was chosen Derrial felt complete, as if a void in his being had been filled. He had learned so much in the four short years they had been together. It was Rhyke who taught him how to control his anger. If not for him, Derrial likely wouldn’t have survived long outside of the Temple. It was Rhyke’s idea to instruct him in Ataru, a form that harnessed Derrial’s aggression and made it something useful. “Master, could we work on my Ataru when we get back? It’s been a while since we have, and I feel confident in my ability to this point.” He looked at his Master with hopeful eyes.
Rhyke chuckled. “You think you’re ready to move on, do you?” His Padawan nodded earnestly. “It will get much more difficult from here on out. Maybe you’d rather try Soresu?” He tried his best to look serious, but the laughter in his eyes gave him away.
Derrial shook his head, laughing at the mention of Soresu, a form his master knew he had extreme difficulty with. “I am certain. I want to continue with Ataru. I don’t care how difficult it is. I’ll do whatever it takes.” He loved his Master as his own blood, equal parts father, brother, and friend. He would follow him anywhere, even unto death itself, if he let him.
The Jedi stopped and faced his Padawan, placing his hand on his shoulder. “Then we will start as soon as we get back. I promise.”
