Post by Dutch on Aug 20, 2009 21:47:55 GMT -5
Name: Nazara {Born Balax Brason}
Race: Cyborg {Former Human}
Age: 33(Brain) 3 Months (Body)
Height: 7'6"
Weight: 500 lbs
Appearance:
The peak of Darth Iniquitous’ studies and practices, this combat chassis was designed as a war machine for the Sith Order. Carefully inlaid alchemic modifications weave through this durasteel demon, which give it amazing resistances. The durasteel of the body allow it to withstand blistering heat, frigid cold, and monumental physical stress- while the alchemic modifications allow it to resist low-moderate amounts of lightsaber damage and emit an aura of uneasiness. These resistances truly make Nazara a juggernaut for the Sith.
Nazara’s weaponry is all completely hidden within his body. His pistol, the Authority, rests in a holster hidden within his right thigh. Ammo clips for this pistol rest in a compartment in his other thigh. Within his right arm rests a condensed version of his flamethrower, with all the mechanics of the weapon internalized now. And his last set of weapons, a pair of lightsabers, are hidden within holsters that lay in between his neck and shoulders.
Armor Restistances:
Telekinetic: 5
Telepathic: 6
Body: 5
Sense: 6
Protection: 0
Healing: 0
Destruction: 3
Note: Nazara's brain has been programmed and altered by Darth Iniquitous to make him immune to any sort of control via the Force. Illusions however can affect him if they are over the armor's resistance number.
Birth place: Coruscant, Galactic City
Faction: Sith Order
Rank: Marauder
Previous Faction: Sith Army
Previous Rank: Major
Bio:
Balax Brason was born to a pair of rich Coruscanti nobles. Though they lived on Coruscant, they originally hail from Naboo. His father, Exten, was a well known supporter of the Naboo senator, and donated many credits to his campaigning. His mother, Belli, was a stay at home mother technically, though she spent much time “entertaining” guests while her husband was away. Both parents have very fair, nearly white skin and blonde hair and blue eyes- merely from coincidence. Suspicion began to arise after a particularly long trip to Naboo- three months to be exact- when his wife told him she was pregnant, already about 2 months in. But he ignored the feeling, the love and trust in his wife far stronger than the suspicion.
Time passed, and Balax was born- a large, chocolate haired baby to the surprise of Exten. At first, he figured it was just a trait that skipped a few generations. He still treated Balax with love, despite suspicions. But as the baby grew into a toddler- the man’s fears only grew. Exten and Belli were both slender, shorter individuals, and this baby was quite large for his age, and his hair only got darker with age. Every time the father would bring it up to Belli, she would simply laugh and explain that her great grandfather had black hair. Exten accepted this explanation, but continued to watch the baby with a close eye. Another year continued, and the young Balax only continued to grow- but there was hope, Belli was pregnant again. Months later a baby girl was born, named Beles. She had white blond hair, bright blue eyes, and obviously had her father’s nose. Completely certain that this child was his, Exten greatly favored the baby.
As a toddler, Balax would often vie for his parent’s attention- but to no success. Exten especially would focus on Beles, and the Belli was often distant from the family. Frustrated and confused, the child lashed out. One afternoon Belli and Exten found Balax in the living room, the family pet laying dead on the floor- knife stabbed deep into its neck and several cuts coating it. The boy wanted attention, and he sure got it. Exten slapped Balax harshly, screaming at the child for what he had done, repeatedly asking what was wrong with him. The shocked child ran from the room, Exten about to follow but was pulled back by Belli, trying to calm her enraged husband down. He tried to explain to her that there was something wrong with the kid, always was. She simply walked away from Exten, a usual sight for the husband. After the incident, the father continued to alienate himself from Balax, almost afraid of the six year old. At seven, Balax entered school, a private school with almost no non-humans in it. There he met people besides his family, and couldn’t help but feel afraid and disdainful of the others. He didn’t get particularly good marks in class, no matter how hard he tried. This further frustrated the boy, his eyes often glaring at a female classmate that was often praised by the teacher.
As the year began to wind to an end, Balax’s grades only continued to suffer, and he always heard about how wonderful his beautiful baby sister was at home, and how smart his female classmate was at school. Anger bubbled through the young boy- but he didn’t do anything about it, simply bottled the hate and continued pushing forward. Exten would almost never speak to him, words of distrust and disgust the only ones the boy would hear. Belli didn’t help much either, when Exten wasn’t home, she would only be in the bedroom, leaving Balax to sit and hear her antics almost all day, and ignoring the nanny droid that took care of Beles. A couple years later, Balax began to react- torturing any kind of animal he could find and keep hidden from his parents, keeping them locked in his room for days at a time, cutting on them and hurting them, often pretending they were his classmates or family. This past time slowly went from mere stress release, to sheer pleasure. The feeling of control Balax got as he had his fun was a rush he began to become addicted to it. But as the rush came, it began to waver sooner and sooner after it started. Confused and unsure as to why this was happening; Balax began to think of other ways to get his release. Until one day at class, after his classmate was praised once more, he began to realize that he didn’t just hate her- he wanted to hurt her, take her off her high horse, make her feel terrible. His pulse raced at the thought, his eyes locked on her with a greedy, angry look. He just needed to get her away from everyone, even if just for a few minutes. And so he planned, watched, and waited…
The day was here. Balax would get his ultimate release- and the classmate would suffer. He tried to not make it obvious in class, but he couldn’t help it- his eyes darted to her every minute or so. Finally, lunch and recess was called- it was time. He walked up to her in the lunch line and asked to talk to her at recess. She agreed and blushed- kids in their class lately had begun to “ask each other out”, and by her reaction, Bal figured this was what she thought- exactly what he wanted. And so, at recess, he took her far from the other students- behind the school itself. He had convinced one of the class bullies that one of their classmates was spreading lies about his mother, and waited until he heard kids cheering and teachers yelling for them to stop. Right as the girl began to ask why he wanted to speak to her, he lunged and held a hand over her mouth, pressing her against the wall. Balax growled that she needed to be taken down, that her brain was going to get her in trouble with others. Wide eyes stared back at Bal, the girl confused as to what he meant. In the mean time, Balax pulled the kitchen knife he had hidden in his pants out, and put it to her throat. He queried how she was going to answer the teacher’s questions when she couldn’t talk. With knife clutched in hand he punched her hard, knocking the girl to the ground. He took the moment she was stunned to jump on her, his weight holding her down then reached into her mouth, and cut out her tongue as well as wedged the knife into her gums to cut out some teeth. The girl tried to scream, but it only came out in a muffled gargling sound. It wasn’t long before someone noticed, a teacher hearing the strange noise. What she found at first made her speechless- but quickly called for help. Balax was caught- but it was worth it in his mind.
Exten was shocked when he arrived at the school. Balax didn’t say a word as he sat in the principles office- what was there to say? He was confused though when Exten handed the principle something, saying that he hopes this doesn’t leave the school, and Balax wouldn’t be returning. He later figured out that his father had bribed the principle- and also that the classmate had died from her wounds. Exten locked Balax in the house- the father saying that the boy would never see the outside world again. Exten told friends and family that Balax had fallen ill, that the doctors couldn’t diagnose it and he had to be quarantined away from everyone but family. When company was over, the boy was locked in his room- which had been stripped of everyone but his bed- and he would just sit and fume in there, sheer loathing roiling through his mind. The only time Balax was allowed to roam the house was when Exten was gone- and it was during these times that he began a new interest. Belli still entertained guests, and one day, still not sure as to what was going on in their bedroom, Balax hid in the bedroom closet one morning and waited. What he saw brought out a new fascination in Balax, he couldn’t quite explain it, but it simply boiled down to that he liked watching the man have his way with the woman- it was like what he did to the classmate. After the first time, Balax began to make his show habit, hiding in the closet every time he heard someone enter, but only when his father wasn’t home.
This new fascination kept Balax occupied for a time, life reaching a strange balance. When Exten was home, the house was filled with praises for Beles, which Balax would often try to veer away from the family when this happened. However, as time passed, his hateful eyes began to watch his little sister, much as they watched the classmate…
Just like before, Balax watched and waited. His habit of watching his mother’s antics faded to barely once a week, his mind completely focused on one thing- bringing his sister down a notch. The girl had started school, as well as dance class- and that was all he would hear about was how wonderful and pretty she was. He realized last time that if he was caught, it wouldn’t be the same; he would have to answer to his father. But this time, he was taking more time to plan. His parents had a banquet coming up in the next few months- they’d be gone all night that night. The only thing in his way really, was the nanny droid. But he knew what to do, he had thought it out.
The night finally came, his parents left for their banquet- and Balax wasted no time at all. He found the nanny droid and snuck up behind it before hitting the power switch on its neck. The droid shut down, Balax explaining to Beles that there must be something wrong with it, and that they’d tell their parents in the morning. The girl paid no mind to her brother, as she usually did. This of course only angered Balax more- her sheer disrespect of him despite being younger and a girl throttled him. He disregarded the plan right then, as she turned away from him, he grabbed a candlestick from a table and whacked her behind the head with it with all his might. Beles lay knocked out on the floor, and Balax took this opportunity. He began to mercilessly beat her, his fists striking every spot on her body. After the initial rage passed, and the girl lay bloodied and bruised on the floor, he began to copy what he had seen with his mother, mimicking her “guests” every move. In a matter of seconds, Balax realized why so many men came to see his mother, he liked it more than his torturing, more than just watching- he had found the ultimate release.
But it was cut short. His eyes widened in fear as he heard the door to the living room open behind him, his parent’s voice loud- obviously arguing. The voices stopped the minute they stepped in. It wasn’t long before Exten was on Balax, hands at his throat, screaming at the boy for everything he had done. The mother picked up the daughter and took her away, leaving Exten with the boy he just discovered wasn’t his. Exten seethed at Balax, stating what a monster he was, and that he needed to be put down. Exten dropped Balax, but followed through with a swift kick to the teeth. The man didn’t show any remorse to the boy, each hit striking Balax with full force. When the boy was nothing more than a bloody and beaten mess, Exten wasted no time. He rolled up Balax in the rug which he lay on, then dragged it outside into his speeder. The man took Balax far from their home, nearly halfway across the planet before diving down into the Lower City, far from any neon lights. It was here that Exten dropped his bastard son, in an alley of a slum. The next morning, Exten would announce his son’s demise from the “sickness” he had been fighting.
Balax awoke what felt like weeks later, his wounds scabbed and bruises still yellowed around the edges. Feeding from anything he found in the alley, he lay in the wet, dirty alley for hours at a time- only one thing on his mind the entire time- sheer, uncontrollable, pure hate for not just his family, but everyone. Sentients of all kinds would walk past the wounded boy- some looked at him, but none so much as threw a credit his way. As his wounds healed, Balax began to watch others that passed. It seemed that most of the people who were there weren’t humanoid at all. And just like with his sister, and with his classmate, hatred began to brew. Each time he was passed without anyone responding or helping him, the hate only grew. How hard could it be to help a kid in need? And yet, none of them did. It took nearly six months for Balax to fully heal, and after that, he began to meander among the crowds. He tried pick pocketing, and got away with it sometimes, but most of the time, the person would noticed, and deliver swift justice on the boy. Black eyes and busted lips became a common site on the boy, but this only fueled his anger more. Years passed, and Balax managed to survive the Lower City, scavenging food from trash, and collecting junk from other’s he had stolen from. There was however, something missing. During his time just fighting to survive, his lust for his release only grew, contained to his dreams and thoughts only- but it wasn’t enough, he needed the physical stimulus more and more as the days went on. The now young man was eighteen, his muscles had grown in, a scraggly beard was set, and he had reached his current height of 6’2”- no longer the small, helpless boy in the alley. He turned his eyes to a local hang out- a bar called Glik’nik’s.
Balax got a very low paying job at Glik’nik, the Toydarian- Glik himself now Bal’s boss. The job was very simple, just cleaning off tables and taking trash to the incinerator behind the bar. It irked Balax to work for the gasbag, but he needed the job. During his time working, he watched people playing pazaak, and it wasn’t long before he picked up the game, and would spend his time not working betting and playing with others. He never won big really, ended up losing more credits than winning at first. But as he got better, he soon had enough to rent an apartment right next door to Glik’nik. Finally, after all his time working and planning, he was ready to play once more. For days he would sit at the bar and watch, eyes scanning for someone to catch his eye. There were almost no human females in the bar, and the one’s that were there weren’t… worthy in his eye. However, he chose to release a different pressure. A Twi’lek female would do nicely…
When Balax was done with her, he used the key to the gate for the incinerator to dispose of the body, a satisfied grin on his face. Time passed, and the body count rose, and Balax was a happy man. He was getting paid, gambling, drinking, and best of all, having his release on a regular basis. Most of the time it was nonhumans- male and female, slowly beginning to prefer this. However, whenever he got a female of a human/near human, he would often have his “special” fun, the next day always a good one for Balax after this. Now that he had a more regulated schedule, he began planning something far more… satisfying. It had been nearly ten years since he was dumped in the slums. Ten years of fantasizing of what he would do to them. Years later Balax slipped one of his pazaak friends a good amount of credits, he got his families location, security code into their place, a thermal detonator, and a used- but trusty blaster pistol. Many years had passed, and he wasn’t sure what he would find, but the young man had one thing on his mind, and it wouldn’t be quiet, it wouldn’t be controlled. It was going to be good, bloody, nasty fun.
Very late one night, Balax paid a friend to drop him off near the family’s estate. He made a b-line for the place, his eyes set on it. When he got there, Balax punched in the security code at the front door and grinned as the door opened without a hitch. Little did Balax know, but as he stepped through the door, a silent alarm was tripped. First thing was first, he walked silently through the house, looking into each room, searching for his parent’s bedroom. After finding it, he switched on the lights and began to laugh as his parents startled awake and turned to see him. Belli gasped and Exten went for his bedside table, but was stopped by a blaster shot to his arm. Balax laughed, then explained exactly why he was here, they tried to kill him, and now, he was not only going to kill them in return, but continue what he started with Beles- and there was nothing they could do. Exten made a move towards Balax, but to no avail, the young man sending a bolt to both their chests. Whistling to himself, Balax strolled around some more until he found his final objective. He stepped into Beles’ room, and closed the door behind him. After about ten minutes, and Balax was bored, he laughed at his tied up sister and pulled the thermal detonator from his pocket. He armed it and forced it into his sister’s mouth before tying a piece of clothing around her mouth- securing it in place. Whistling once more, Balax made his way out of the house, but his heart sank as he stepped outside. Several speeders were parked outside the manor, Coruscant police surrounding him with blasters armed. Not a second after he was stopped, a muffled explosion could be heard from behind him, Balax burst out laughing, his goal was reached- nothing else mattered. He was taken into custody that night, and awaited trial the next day.
Balax was charged with the murder of his parents, as well as the rape and murder of his sister. Those crimes alone gave him a triple life sentence- Balax could only laugh to himself, there was no need to try and fight this, Balax just couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that they still had no idea about all the other victims from before. He was sent to the Coruscant prison, held in the block reserved for only the high risk prisoners. For Balax though, this only opened a new window for him. Balax’s time was now spent working out in his cell, and getting into fights with the other inmates. Sure, this only made his sentence worse, but what did Balax care? He was already in here for life. He was particularly vicious against nonhumans he would fight, killing several of them in the first year of his sentence.
The worst part about the sentence was simply the fact that he couldn’t have any real fun, the only female he ever encountered was a nurse that tended to the wounded after a brawl. This woman was often the object of many sexual remarks and inappropriate touches. She would often follow with slapping him or getting the guards to remove him by force. But even that was just a temporary release, the need only continued to grow. Getting more and more frustrated, Balax only got into more fights, and killed more nonhumans. Interestingly enough, more humans began to follow in Balax’s footsteps, men with similar mindsets to him, and it wasn’t long before they rallied around him. Balax’s gang would make sport of beating on nonhumans, but Bal didn’t see these men as friends per se, but he knew that they would do almost anything for him. Balax would often use this for his amusement, sitting back and watching as several men would gang up on a single nonhuman, the man using the contacts he had built to get cigars that he would smoke whenever in the yard. It wasn’t long before word got out of the prison, and not long before certain ears heard what was going on within the prison…
Two years passed, and Balax was already very bored with this life, sure the beatings were fun, but not the kind of fun he wanted. Luckily for him though, one day, he actually had a visitor. A sharp dressed man with dirty blonde hair, accompanied by a pair of silver armored people. The man introduced himself as Lord Unduwe Mekalal, a Sith Aristrocrat from Kuat. Unduwe explained to Balax that if he wanted, he could arrange for his release and dismissal from the prison. Naturally he was interested, Balax’s attention fully on the Lord now. All Balax had to do, Unduwe explained, was sign up with the Sith Military- he would be given the rank of Major, with the inmates that accompanied Balax working under him as his subordinates. A sly grin slid over Balax’s face as the man explained more- they needed people for urban warfare, people who didn’t need intense details for a mission, just someone to fight. Balax laughed and said this in response:
“We do this Unduwe, you point me in the right direction, then get the hell out of my way…”
Unduwe’s grin mimicked Balax’s before he pulled a datapad from his suit and slid it to Balax. He only needed to sign on the line, and he’d be out in the field in less than a week. Balax signed without hesitation, and his career with the Sith Army soon began.
Balax was in. No longer in prison, and the Sith Army was paying him to do what he loves and does best. At first, they dispatched him and his people to outer rim worlds- places that the Republic didn’t care about, and wouldn’t hear about. Balax used a flamethrower of his own design, a weapon he called The Hand Dragon. There was just something about the smell of charred and cooked flesh that just made Balax want to raid more and more. His troops under him were very loyal, the majority of them having served time with Bal- and each one enjoyed their job as well, but none as much as the Major himself.
What was probably Balax’s best feature in the Sith’s eyes was the fact that he never asked what the purpose of his raids were. He didn’t care, and as long as he had his fun, nothing mattered. When not raiding, Balax and his troops would spend time at the local cantina, carousing and raising hell. It was on one particularly vicious occupation on Phindar, which had just reached its third month, which his troops got to see the kind of man Balax was. They were at a cantina drinking when a small, young woman walked up to them. She asked him what they were going to do, she was nearly three months pregnant, and was wondering when she they were leaving the planet. Balax simply laughed at the girl, taking a sip of his Corellian ale and puffing from his cigar, breathing the smoke right into her face. She explained to Balax’s posse that she was only fourteen and that it was the right thing for “Mr. Brason” to do. Bal only laughed harder at what she said, finishing off the ale before standing up, grabbing a meat knife from the table they were at. His left hand went to her throat and he lifted her off her feet, pressing her against the cantina wall. Then in several swift motions he plunged the knife repeatedly into her waste before throwing her aside and turning to his men.
”What pregnancy?”
Balax laughed, his men laughed as well, but it was a strained, almost fearful laugh. It was then that they completely gave themselves to Major Brason- at first they felt bound by brotherhood, but now it was mostly fear of the grizzled man. They left Phindar not long later, Balax’s next mission almost being his last…
Kalee- a planet Balax definitely considered a dull, rocky world. Taking the capital was easy enough for the team- but why they had to occupy it, he didn’t know. A year passed, and a rebellion group rose to constantly harass the Sith. Little did they know however, that the leader of this rebellion was a Jedi- one who hails from Kalee. In one particularly nasty firefight, the Jedi made himself known. He began to chop apart Balax’s men. The major made his move, turned his flamethrower to the Jedi, and let it go full burst, not caring that the flames even engulfed his wounded troopers. This move however, ended up costing Bal more than he thought. In one swift move the Jedi whirled and used the Force to push the flames back at Balax, sending them shooting right back into the weapon. The sheer force of the attack made the weapon literally explode, shredding Balax’s arm and sending searing hot shards of metal into the left side of his upper body and face. Balax blacked out not more than a minute after the trauma, his last thought simply being that this was it, he was dead.
He awoke weeks later, confused and in agony. Balax soon realized that he was indeed alive, suspended in a kolto tank. It wasn’t long before Balax was visited by Unduwe, who explained that Kalee had been lost, but thanks to the loss, they got a clear view on how a Jedi’s intervention could affect an occupation. Balax seethed at this, once more someone got praised, someone undeserving of it. Unduwe then explained that the loss of Balax’s left arm was a window for opportunity. Balax looked down and was shocked to see that the space that should have been filled by an arm- was completely empty. He was to be fitted with a special prosthetic arm- one that would allow him to do his job better. Balax first had to spend six months in the tank to completely heal, plenty of time for him to sit and seethe over the Jedi- an arrogant group of fools that didn’t deserve the power they were given.
Finally, Balax was released from the tank, his muscles sore from inactivity. He was immediately fitted with the arm, given a rundown of its capabilities, and its limits. Balax was most pleased by the two hidden blades, the large weapons made such a satisfying noise when unsheathed. Due to the inactivity- Balax was placed into an intense training regime- literally working at least eight hours a day to get into better shape he had ever been in. Another six months passed, Balax had reassembled his trusty Hand Dragon, reworked his blaster rifle- working in a thermal detonator launcher in it- and learned ways to use his blades in a surprising ways. Major Balax Brason was ready for action once more, and this time, he knew what to expect from his most deadly enemies- the Jedi.
Balax has now participated in the successful attack on Mon Calamari- particularly enjoying the smell of the locals burning, reminding him of a seafood dish. After the attack though, Balax was not kept on Dac, he received special training to join a new group of Sith. The Jedi Hunters. His time in the Jedi Hunters was marked by two things, the first of course was the thrill of taking down the high and mighty Jedi. The second, was his pursuit of his favorite prey of all time, a Zeltron woman named Sera. In their time aboard The Wicked, Balax tried to force himself on the woman twice, each time foiled by either others on the ship, or just plain bad timing.
The team was chosen to participate in the battle for Yaga Minor, where Balax’s life would change once more. The battle was a resounding success for the Sith, but would be Bal’s death. The Zeltron was sick and tired of his advances, and the battle field was perfect to make it seem like he was killed by the Republicans. Balax Brason as he knew it was killed that day by a sniper shot to the chest. His body was recovered almost instantly by a mysterious trio, no one saw exactly who these people were. They were Sith- and not just the people, but the Force Users. Balax Brason was taken to a compound on Korriban, where Darth Iniquitous’ grand sculpture was brought to life. The battle chassis was designed, created, and altered by the Dark Overlord himself, all it needed was a brain to control it, and Balax Brason was chosen for it.
The man who was once Bal awoke, his mind screamed and raced as the thoughts, beliefs, and knowledge programmed into his brain coursed through his mind. His vision made everything look a slight shade of green, and lines surrounded everything. As he looked around small targeting reticules would follow and lock onto whatever he looked at. The man was perplexed, confused even. His vision panned down to look at himself, and what he saw shocked him. What was once flesh now was cold, black colored metal highlighted in acid green that glowed nefariously. A cloaked and hidden figure greeted the confused abomination, and soon explained what had happened.
Balax Brason, as he knew it, was dead. That name was deleted, along with everything else Darth Iniquitous saw fit. His memories of his time growing up on Coruscant, removed, his former rank and standing in the Sith Military, gone. All he remembered is that he was once human, and that the Sith Order had saved him. A fierce loyalty to the Order was programmed as well, to guarantee that Iniquitous’ masterpiece wouldn’t run off- though Nazara wasn’t aware that it was programmed. Along with that program, the Darth programmed Nazara’s non-organic part of his brain with segments of the Sith Lord’s and Ladies’ learned lightsaber styles, into a blend that could be called Nazara’s own. And finally, Nazara was programmed to follow orders only from the Darth’s themselves, no matter what the order. Weeks of motor function testing, including with his lightsabers, followed his awakening. He followed orders dutifully, but wasn’t sure why he followed them. Nazara just did as he was told, and it was easier to just do it right away instead of fight it.
Nazara has yet to be revealed to the galaxy, but is ready to cause any mayhem or destruction that the Sith Order wishes. Unbeknown to both the Sith and to Nazara himself, but something has been stirring in the deep depths of his brain. Something familiar, something sinister, something hungry…
Lightsaber: Dual wield Single hilt lightsabers that can connect.
Color: Acid Green and Fierce Orange
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 5
Makashi
Soresu
Ataru
Shien / Djem So
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield 5
Juyo 3
Double Bladed Combat 5
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 0
Telepathic: 0
Body: 0
Sense: 0
Protection: 0
Healing: 0
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Jedi Hunter Training
Aura of Uneasiness (Alchemically Infused)
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 8
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 6
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 8
Melee Weapons: 0
Ranged Weapons: 8
Force Attunement: -10
RP Sample:
The door slammed with a massive metal clang that echoed throughout the auditorium. A robed man stumbled from the door he just slammed and he watched it with obvious fear in his eyes. The two other people with the robed man raised their rifles up to their armored shoulders. The female trooper turned her gaze to the robed Jedi as sweat beaded down her face. Her male counterpart collapsed into a seat, and ran his gloved hand over his face.
“Man… it hit so fast. I’ve never seen a droid fight like that before, what the bloody hell was that? There was twelve of us! How does a droid kill ten men so FAST! C’mon Master Jedi, surely you know what this thing is?”
The male trooper stammered as he pulled a canteen from his side pack. He took a deep swig and pulled it down with a satisfied groan. The female trooper grimaced, she knew that Harkin only had liquid that would make you blind. Damn I’d kill for some water… She thought. But Jackie didn’t blame him for wanting a strong drink at this point, he was right, that thing had cut down their fire team faster than an angry gundark in a room full of babies. Even the Jedi hadn’t spoken a word since the attack. It figured that out of the three that were left, she would be the bravest in the face of this assailant. She pressed a hand to her left temple and leaned against one of the seats as well. What could they possibly do against such pure hatred?
“We need to get out of here. There has to be some sort of roof access, a way out of here. Right now, we’re trapped like womp rats.”
Jackie said as she turned her gaze from the Jedi to Harkin. The Jedi did nothing more than stare at the door still, and Harkin sighed heavily. Useless, bloody useless… She thought before shaking her head and stepping away from the other pair. She wandered the large room, her eyes looked for some sort of exit that would be hidden from the room. Finally she found something, in the rafters towards the small stage, a hatch-like door that probably lead up to the roof maintenance area. And that was a way out. She peered over to call over Harkin and the Jedi when a loud bang rang out through the room. They had heard this once before, and seconds later her entire fire team was in ribbons.
“Game over man! Game over!”
Shouted Harkin after he sprung from his seat. His rifle was shouldered and he panned left and right, desperately searching for the source of the sound. Another bang sounded and Harkin accidently fired off a round, which scared the Jedi into dropping his lightsaber. Jackie shouldered her rifle as well, but couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at this pitiful, silent excuse of a Jedi. Prolly soiled himself… She thought in disgust. She knew that the thing would come out in front of her somewhere, the stage funneled the sound well enough for her to know that. Another bang sounded, and Harkin was sweating almost as furious as he was whimpering. Jackie kept her cool though, sure, she was scared. Scared enough that what she thought was sweat on her body was probably urine as well. Another bang, and Jackie was shocked to feel her eyes well up and mix with sweat as it fell.
“Screw this.”
She grunted and slung her rifle back into her holster. Jackie jogged over to the tall, metal ladder that lead to the hatch, and began climbing desperately. And then it happened. With a massive cracking boom the ceiling above the Jedi crumbled in and collapsed around him. He screamed and rolled to the side but coughed on the dust that had filled the area around him. Suddenly, a pair of beams of light flashed to life with a snap-hiss! The Jedi began to sputter and shake in fear as the orange and green beams moved closer to him. Harkin was already on the move, he sprinted away from the Jedi and towards Jackie at full tilt.
”BWAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
With a roar and a flash of energy the thing finally sprung out from the dust cloud with sabers whirling. Like a massive, armored wraith its skull-like face loomed just over the Jedi as it landed with a heavy thudding sound. With a hum like a swarm of angry wasps its two lightsabers spun before neatly dissecting the brown-robed Jedi, and the thing was already on the move. Its face turned towards Harkin’s fleeing form and the saber in its right hand snapped off and it was stowed into its shoulder. A click followed by a whir would sound and the thing’s right thigh opened and a metal holster tilted slightly out of it, a large revolver-type gun in it. The metal wraith drew the gun and stepped forward in time with its arm that brought the gun up. A massive shot rang out and Harkin’s left shoulder exploded into ground meat and sent him tumbling forward. A low, satisfied growl sounded from the metal monster as it lowered the gun and slipped it back into the holster.
“Sith spit…”
Whimpered Jackie as she forced herself higher up on the ladder, she didn’t see what became of Harkin. After the sound of a particularly wet sounding squelch she had begun to seriously haul ass, and finally made it to the hatch that was thankfully unlocked. She made it through the hatch and slammed it shut, her blaster rifle quickly removed from its holster to blast-weld the door shut. Jackie’s eyes scanned the cloudy skies above and around the area, desperately searching for the dropship that was supposed to come and pick the survivors up. But it was nowhere to be seen. All of a sudden the roof behind Jackie blasted upwards and sent her rolling away from it. Instantly her blaster was trained on the not too surprising appearance of the attacker. She squeezed a couple shots off as it stomped towards her but they just bounced off the shiny metal.
Her eyes got wide as the enemy grabbed the barrel of her blaster, and wretched the weapon from her hand and sent it off the edge of the roof. Before she could even speak, its hand was wrapped around her throat, and Jackie was being held upwards by her neck. Her features went red and she struggled for freedom. A heavy, cruel laugh echoed from the obsidian colored machine, obviously entertained by her plight.
”No doubt you wait on your Republic ship. You wait in vain, your friends have been decimated, as will everything else you’ve ever cared for, ever loved, taken by my grip. I Nazara, will be the harbinger of your demise. There will be no honor in your death.”
Rumbled Nazara, to Jackie’s surprise. Here, all this time, they had assumed this was some sort of war droid the Sith- sent here on some sort of test run. But by the way it spoke, moved, and acted- it was all too apparent. This was no mere droid, this was an abomination of mechanical and organic creation- a war machine. With a flick of his wrist, Jackie’s thoughts were ended, and Nazara tossed her body off the ledge of the building as well. His mission had ended, the team was dead, and once more, he had passed his Master’s test. A set of rendezvous coordinates slid up in his HUD, and Nazara turned away from the ledge where Jackie had been tossed, and began to make his way to the LZ.
Race: Cyborg {Former Human}
Age: 33(Brain) 3 Months (Body)
Height: 7'6"
Weight: 500 lbs
Appearance:
The peak of Darth Iniquitous’ studies and practices, this combat chassis was designed as a war machine for the Sith Order. Carefully inlaid alchemic modifications weave through this durasteel demon, which give it amazing resistances. The durasteel of the body allow it to withstand blistering heat, frigid cold, and monumental physical stress- while the alchemic modifications allow it to resist low-moderate amounts of lightsaber damage and emit an aura of uneasiness. These resistances truly make Nazara a juggernaut for the Sith.
Nazara’s weaponry is all completely hidden within his body. His pistol, the Authority, rests in a holster hidden within his right thigh. Ammo clips for this pistol rest in a compartment in his other thigh. Within his right arm rests a condensed version of his flamethrower, with all the mechanics of the weapon internalized now. And his last set of weapons, a pair of lightsabers, are hidden within holsters that lay in between his neck and shoulders.
Armor Restistances:
Telekinetic: 5
Telepathic: 6
Body: 5
Sense: 6
Protection: 0
Healing: 0
Destruction: 3
Note: Nazara's brain has been programmed and altered by Darth Iniquitous to make him immune to any sort of control via the Force. Illusions however can affect him if they are over the armor's resistance number.
Birth place: Coruscant, Galactic City
Faction: Sith Order
Rank: Marauder
Previous Faction: Sith Army
Previous Rank: Major
Bio:
A Suspicious Start…
Birth-3
Balax Brason was born to a pair of rich Coruscanti nobles. Though they lived on Coruscant, they originally hail from Naboo. His father, Exten, was a well known supporter of the Naboo senator, and donated many credits to his campaigning. His mother, Belli, was a stay at home mother technically, though she spent much time “entertaining” guests while her husband was away. Both parents have very fair, nearly white skin and blonde hair and blue eyes- merely from coincidence. Suspicion began to arise after a particularly long trip to Naboo- three months to be exact- when his wife told him she was pregnant, already about 2 months in. But he ignored the feeling, the love and trust in his wife far stronger than the suspicion.
Time passed, and Balax was born- a large, chocolate haired baby to the surprise of Exten. At first, he figured it was just a trait that skipped a few generations. He still treated Balax with love, despite suspicions. But as the baby grew into a toddler- the man’s fears only grew. Exten and Belli were both slender, shorter individuals, and this baby was quite large for his age, and his hair only got darker with age. Every time the father would bring it up to Belli, she would simply laugh and explain that her great grandfather had black hair. Exten accepted this explanation, but continued to watch the baby with a close eye. Another year continued, and the young Balax only continued to grow- but there was hope, Belli was pregnant again. Months later a baby girl was born, named Beles. She had white blond hair, bright blue eyes, and obviously had her father’s nose. Completely certain that this child was his, Exten greatly favored the baby.
Competing and Changing…
4-11
As a toddler, Balax would often vie for his parent’s attention- but to no success. Exten especially would focus on Beles, and the Belli was often distant from the family. Frustrated and confused, the child lashed out. One afternoon Belli and Exten found Balax in the living room, the family pet laying dead on the floor- knife stabbed deep into its neck and several cuts coating it. The boy wanted attention, and he sure got it. Exten slapped Balax harshly, screaming at the child for what he had done, repeatedly asking what was wrong with him. The shocked child ran from the room, Exten about to follow but was pulled back by Belli, trying to calm her enraged husband down. He tried to explain to her that there was something wrong with the kid, always was. She simply walked away from Exten, a usual sight for the husband. After the incident, the father continued to alienate himself from Balax, almost afraid of the six year old. At seven, Balax entered school, a private school with almost no non-humans in it. There he met people besides his family, and couldn’t help but feel afraid and disdainful of the others. He didn’t get particularly good marks in class, no matter how hard he tried. This further frustrated the boy, his eyes often glaring at a female classmate that was often praised by the teacher.
As the year began to wind to an end, Balax’s grades only continued to suffer, and he always heard about how wonderful his beautiful baby sister was at home, and how smart his female classmate was at school. Anger bubbled through the young boy- but he didn’t do anything about it, simply bottled the hate and continued pushing forward. Exten would almost never speak to him, words of distrust and disgust the only ones the boy would hear. Belli didn’t help much either, when Exten wasn’t home, she would only be in the bedroom, leaving Balax to sit and hear her antics almost all day, and ignoring the nanny droid that took care of Beles. A couple years later, Balax began to react- torturing any kind of animal he could find and keep hidden from his parents, keeping them locked in his room for days at a time, cutting on them and hurting them, often pretending they were his classmates or family. This past time slowly went from mere stress release, to sheer pleasure. The feeling of control Balax got as he had his fun was a rush he began to become addicted to it. But as the rush came, it began to waver sooner and sooner after it started. Confused and unsure as to why this was happening; Balax began to think of other ways to get his release. Until one day at class, after his classmate was praised once more, he began to realize that he didn’t just hate her- he wanted to hurt her, take her off her high horse, make her feel terrible. His pulse raced at the thought, his eyes locked on her with a greedy, angry look. He just needed to get her away from everyone, even if just for a few minutes. And so he planned, watched, and waited…
The day was here. Balax would get his ultimate release- and the classmate would suffer. He tried to not make it obvious in class, but he couldn’t help it- his eyes darted to her every minute or so. Finally, lunch and recess was called- it was time. He walked up to her in the lunch line and asked to talk to her at recess. She agreed and blushed- kids in their class lately had begun to “ask each other out”, and by her reaction, Bal figured this was what she thought- exactly what he wanted. And so, at recess, he took her far from the other students- behind the school itself. He had convinced one of the class bullies that one of their classmates was spreading lies about his mother, and waited until he heard kids cheering and teachers yelling for them to stop. Right as the girl began to ask why he wanted to speak to her, he lunged and held a hand over her mouth, pressing her against the wall. Balax growled that she needed to be taken down, that her brain was going to get her in trouble with others. Wide eyes stared back at Bal, the girl confused as to what he meant. In the mean time, Balax pulled the kitchen knife he had hidden in his pants out, and put it to her throat. He queried how she was going to answer the teacher’s questions when she couldn’t talk. With knife clutched in hand he punched her hard, knocking the girl to the ground. He took the moment she was stunned to jump on her, his weight holding her down then reached into her mouth, and cut out her tongue as well as wedged the knife into her gums to cut out some teeth. The girl tried to scream, but it only came out in a muffled gargling sound. It wasn’t long before someone noticed, a teacher hearing the strange noise. What she found at first made her speechless- but quickly called for help. Balax was caught- but it was worth it in his mind.
Exten was shocked when he arrived at the school. Balax didn’t say a word as he sat in the principles office- what was there to say? He was confused though when Exten handed the principle something, saying that he hopes this doesn’t leave the school, and Balax wouldn’t be returning. He later figured out that his father had bribed the principle- and also that the classmate had died from her wounds. Exten locked Balax in the house- the father saying that the boy would never see the outside world again. Exten told friends and family that Balax had fallen ill, that the doctors couldn’t diagnose it and he had to be quarantined away from everyone but family. When company was over, the boy was locked in his room- which had been stripped of everyone but his bed- and he would just sit and fume in there, sheer loathing roiling through his mind. The only time Balax was allowed to roam the house was when Exten was gone- and it was during these times that he began a new interest. Belli still entertained guests, and one day, still not sure as to what was going on in their bedroom, Balax hid in the bedroom closet one morning and waited. What he saw brought out a new fascination in Balax, he couldn’t quite explain it, but it simply boiled down to that he liked watching the man have his way with the woman- it was like what he did to the classmate. After the first time, Balax began to make his show habit, hiding in the closet every time he heard someone enter, but only when his father wasn’t home.
This new fascination kept Balax occupied for a time, life reaching a strange balance. When Exten was home, the house was filled with praises for Beles, which Balax would often try to veer away from the family when this happened. However, as time passed, his hateful eyes began to watch his little sister, much as they watched the classmate…
The Dam Bursts…
12-18
Just like before, Balax watched and waited. His habit of watching his mother’s antics faded to barely once a week, his mind completely focused on one thing- bringing his sister down a notch. The girl had started school, as well as dance class- and that was all he would hear about was how wonderful and pretty she was. He realized last time that if he was caught, it wouldn’t be the same; he would have to answer to his father. But this time, he was taking more time to plan. His parents had a banquet coming up in the next few months- they’d be gone all night that night. The only thing in his way really, was the nanny droid. But he knew what to do, he had thought it out.
The night finally came, his parents left for their banquet- and Balax wasted no time at all. He found the nanny droid and snuck up behind it before hitting the power switch on its neck. The droid shut down, Balax explaining to Beles that there must be something wrong with it, and that they’d tell their parents in the morning. The girl paid no mind to her brother, as she usually did. This of course only angered Balax more- her sheer disrespect of him despite being younger and a girl throttled him. He disregarded the plan right then, as she turned away from him, he grabbed a candlestick from a table and whacked her behind the head with it with all his might. Beles lay knocked out on the floor, and Balax took this opportunity. He began to mercilessly beat her, his fists striking every spot on her body. After the initial rage passed, and the girl lay bloodied and bruised on the floor, he began to copy what he had seen with his mother, mimicking her “guests” every move. In a matter of seconds, Balax realized why so many men came to see his mother, he liked it more than his torturing, more than just watching- he had found the ultimate release.
But it was cut short. His eyes widened in fear as he heard the door to the living room open behind him, his parent’s voice loud- obviously arguing. The voices stopped the minute they stepped in. It wasn’t long before Exten was on Balax, hands at his throat, screaming at the boy for everything he had done. The mother picked up the daughter and took her away, leaving Exten with the boy he just discovered wasn’t his. Exten seethed at Balax, stating what a monster he was, and that he needed to be put down. Exten dropped Balax, but followed through with a swift kick to the teeth. The man didn’t show any remorse to the boy, each hit striking Balax with full force. When the boy was nothing more than a bloody and beaten mess, Exten wasted no time. He rolled up Balax in the rug which he lay on, then dragged it outside into his speeder. The man took Balax far from their home, nearly halfway across the planet before diving down into the Lower City, far from any neon lights. It was here that Exten dropped his bastard son, in an alley of a slum. The next morning, Exten would announce his son’s demise from the “sickness” he had been fighting.
Balax awoke what felt like weeks later, his wounds scabbed and bruises still yellowed around the edges. Feeding from anything he found in the alley, he lay in the wet, dirty alley for hours at a time- only one thing on his mind the entire time- sheer, uncontrollable, pure hate for not just his family, but everyone. Sentients of all kinds would walk past the wounded boy- some looked at him, but none so much as threw a credit his way. As his wounds healed, Balax began to watch others that passed. It seemed that most of the people who were there weren’t humanoid at all. And just like with his sister, and with his classmate, hatred began to brew. Each time he was passed without anyone responding or helping him, the hate only grew. How hard could it be to help a kid in need? And yet, none of them did. It took nearly six months for Balax to fully heal, and after that, he began to meander among the crowds. He tried pick pocketing, and got away with it sometimes, but most of the time, the person would noticed, and deliver swift justice on the boy. Black eyes and busted lips became a common site on the boy, but this only fueled his anger more. Years passed, and Balax managed to survive the Lower City, scavenging food from trash, and collecting junk from other’s he had stolen from. There was however, something missing. During his time just fighting to survive, his lust for his release only grew, contained to his dreams and thoughts only- but it wasn’t enough, he needed the physical stimulus more and more as the days went on. The now young man was eighteen, his muscles had grown in, a scraggly beard was set, and he had reached his current height of 6’2”- no longer the small, helpless boy in the alley. He turned his eyes to a local hang out- a bar called Glik’nik’s.
All Work and No Play…
[/center]19-25
Balax got a very low paying job at Glik’nik, the Toydarian- Glik himself now Bal’s boss. The job was very simple, just cleaning off tables and taking trash to the incinerator behind the bar. It irked Balax to work for the gasbag, but he needed the job. During his time working, he watched people playing pazaak, and it wasn’t long before he picked up the game, and would spend his time not working betting and playing with others. He never won big really, ended up losing more credits than winning at first. But as he got better, he soon had enough to rent an apartment right next door to Glik’nik. Finally, after all his time working and planning, he was ready to play once more. For days he would sit at the bar and watch, eyes scanning for someone to catch his eye. There were almost no human females in the bar, and the one’s that were there weren’t… worthy in his eye. However, he chose to release a different pressure. A Twi’lek female would do nicely…
When Balax was done with her, he used the key to the gate for the incinerator to dispose of the body, a satisfied grin on his face. Time passed, and the body count rose, and Balax was a happy man. He was getting paid, gambling, drinking, and best of all, having his release on a regular basis. Most of the time it was nonhumans- male and female, slowly beginning to prefer this. However, whenever he got a female of a human/near human, he would often have his “special” fun, the next day always a good one for Balax after this. Now that he had a more regulated schedule, he began planning something far more… satisfying. It had been nearly ten years since he was dumped in the slums. Ten years of fantasizing of what he would do to them. Years later Balax slipped one of his pazaak friends a good amount of credits, he got his families location, security code into their place, a thermal detonator, and a used- but trusty blaster pistol. Many years had passed, and he wasn’t sure what he would find, but the young man had one thing on his mind, and it wouldn’t be quiet, it wouldn’t be controlled. It was going to be good, bloody, nasty fun.
Revenge At Last…
25
Very late one night, Balax paid a friend to drop him off near the family’s estate. He made a b-line for the place, his eyes set on it. When he got there, Balax punched in the security code at the front door and grinned as the door opened without a hitch. Little did Balax know, but as he stepped through the door, a silent alarm was tripped. First thing was first, he walked silently through the house, looking into each room, searching for his parent’s bedroom. After finding it, he switched on the lights and began to laugh as his parents startled awake and turned to see him. Belli gasped and Exten went for his bedside table, but was stopped by a blaster shot to his arm. Balax laughed, then explained exactly why he was here, they tried to kill him, and now, he was not only going to kill them in return, but continue what he started with Beles- and there was nothing they could do. Exten made a move towards Balax, but to no avail, the young man sending a bolt to both their chests. Whistling to himself, Balax strolled around some more until he found his final objective. He stepped into Beles’ room, and closed the door behind him. After about ten minutes, and Balax was bored, he laughed at his tied up sister and pulled the thermal detonator from his pocket. He armed it and forced it into his sister’s mouth before tying a piece of clothing around her mouth- securing it in place. Whistling once more, Balax made his way out of the house, but his heart sank as he stepped outside. Several speeders were parked outside the manor, Coruscant police surrounding him with blasters armed. Not a second after he was stopped, a muffled explosion could be heard from behind him, Balax burst out laughing, his goal was reached- nothing else mattered. He was taken into custody that night, and awaited trial the next day.
A New Way to Play…
[/center]25-27
Balax was charged with the murder of his parents, as well as the rape and murder of his sister. Those crimes alone gave him a triple life sentence- Balax could only laugh to himself, there was no need to try and fight this, Balax just couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that they still had no idea about all the other victims from before. He was sent to the Coruscant prison, held in the block reserved for only the high risk prisoners. For Balax though, this only opened a new window for him. Balax’s time was now spent working out in his cell, and getting into fights with the other inmates. Sure, this only made his sentence worse, but what did Balax care? He was already in here for life. He was particularly vicious against nonhumans he would fight, killing several of them in the first year of his sentence.
The worst part about the sentence was simply the fact that he couldn’t have any real fun, the only female he ever encountered was a nurse that tended to the wounded after a brawl. This woman was often the object of many sexual remarks and inappropriate touches. She would often follow with slapping him or getting the guards to remove him by force. But even that was just a temporary release, the need only continued to grow. Getting more and more frustrated, Balax only got into more fights, and killed more nonhumans. Interestingly enough, more humans began to follow in Balax’s footsteps, men with similar mindsets to him, and it wasn’t long before they rallied around him. Balax’s gang would make sport of beating on nonhumans, but Bal didn’t see these men as friends per se, but he knew that they would do almost anything for him. Balax would often use this for his amusement, sitting back and watching as several men would gang up on a single nonhuman, the man using the contacts he had built to get cigars that he would smoke whenever in the yard. It wasn’t long before word got out of the prison, and not long before certain ears heard what was going on within the prison…
Two years passed, and Balax was already very bored with this life, sure the beatings were fun, but not the kind of fun he wanted. Luckily for him though, one day, he actually had a visitor. A sharp dressed man with dirty blonde hair, accompanied by a pair of silver armored people. The man introduced himself as Lord Unduwe Mekalal, a Sith Aristrocrat from Kuat. Unduwe explained to Balax that if he wanted, he could arrange for his release and dismissal from the prison. Naturally he was interested, Balax’s attention fully on the Lord now. All Balax had to do, Unduwe explained, was sign up with the Sith Military- he would be given the rank of Major, with the inmates that accompanied Balax working under him as his subordinates. A sly grin slid over Balax’s face as the man explained more- they needed people for urban warfare, people who didn’t need intense details for a mission, just someone to fight. Balax laughed and said this in response:
“We do this Unduwe, you point me in the right direction, then get the hell out of my way…”
Unduwe’s grin mimicked Balax’s before he pulled a datapad from his suit and slid it to Balax. He only needed to sign on the line, and he’d be out in the field in less than a week. Balax signed without hesitation, and his career with the Sith Army soon began.
Not Only Does His Job, But Does it Happily…
[/center] 28-30
Balax was in. No longer in prison, and the Sith Army was paying him to do what he loves and does best. At first, they dispatched him and his people to outer rim worlds- places that the Republic didn’t care about, and wouldn’t hear about. Balax used a flamethrower of his own design, a weapon he called The Hand Dragon. There was just something about the smell of charred and cooked flesh that just made Balax want to raid more and more. His troops under him were very loyal, the majority of them having served time with Bal- and each one enjoyed their job as well, but none as much as the Major himself.
What was probably Balax’s best feature in the Sith’s eyes was the fact that he never asked what the purpose of his raids were. He didn’t care, and as long as he had his fun, nothing mattered. When not raiding, Balax and his troops would spend time at the local cantina, carousing and raising hell. It was on one particularly vicious occupation on Phindar, which had just reached its third month, which his troops got to see the kind of man Balax was. They were at a cantina drinking when a small, young woman walked up to them. She asked him what they were going to do, she was nearly three months pregnant, and was wondering when she they were leaving the planet. Balax simply laughed at the girl, taking a sip of his Corellian ale and puffing from his cigar, breathing the smoke right into her face. She explained to Balax’s posse that she was only fourteen and that it was the right thing for “Mr. Brason” to do. Bal only laughed harder at what she said, finishing off the ale before standing up, grabbing a meat knife from the table they were at. His left hand went to her throat and he lifted her off her feet, pressing her against the cantina wall. Then in several swift motions he plunged the knife repeatedly into her waste before throwing her aside and turning to his men.
”What pregnancy?”
Balax laughed, his men laughed as well, but it was a strained, almost fearful laugh. It was then that they completely gave themselves to Major Brason- at first they felt bound by brotherhood, but now it was mostly fear of the grizzled man. They left Phindar not long later, Balax’s next mission almost being his last…
A New Foe Arises…
[/center]30-32
Kalee- a planet Balax definitely considered a dull, rocky world. Taking the capital was easy enough for the team- but why they had to occupy it, he didn’t know. A year passed, and a rebellion group rose to constantly harass the Sith. Little did they know however, that the leader of this rebellion was a Jedi- one who hails from Kalee. In one particularly nasty firefight, the Jedi made himself known. He began to chop apart Balax’s men. The major made his move, turned his flamethrower to the Jedi, and let it go full burst, not caring that the flames even engulfed his wounded troopers. This move however, ended up costing Bal more than he thought. In one swift move the Jedi whirled and used the Force to push the flames back at Balax, sending them shooting right back into the weapon. The sheer force of the attack made the weapon literally explode, shredding Balax’s arm and sending searing hot shards of metal into the left side of his upper body and face. Balax blacked out not more than a minute after the trauma, his last thought simply being that this was it, he was dead.
He awoke weeks later, confused and in agony. Balax soon realized that he was indeed alive, suspended in a kolto tank. It wasn’t long before Balax was visited by Unduwe, who explained that Kalee had been lost, but thanks to the loss, they got a clear view on how a Jedi’s intervention could affect an occupation. Balax seethed at this, once more someone got praised, someone undeserving of it. Unduwe then explained that the loss of Balax’s left arm was a window for opportunity. Balax looked down and was shocked to see that the space that should have been filled by an arm- was completely empty. He was to be fitted with a special prosthetic arm- one that would allow him to do his job better. Balax first had to spend six months in the tank to completely heal, plenty of time for him to sit and seethe over the Jedi- an arrogant group of fools that didn’t deserve the power they were given.
Finally, Balax was released from the tank, his muscles sore from inactivity. He was immediately fitted with the arm, given a rundown of its capabilities, and its limits. Balax was most pleased by the two hidden blades, the large weapons made such a satisfying noise when unsheathed. Due to the inactivity- Balax was placed into an intense training regime- literally working at least eight hours a day to get into better shape he had ever been in. Another six months passed, Balax had reassembled his trusty Hand Dragon, reworked his blaster rifle- working in a thermal detonator launcher in it- and learned ways to use his blades in a surprising ways. Major Balax Brason was ready for action once more, and this time, he knew what to expect from his most deadly enemies- the Jedi.
The March To Victory…
32- Present
Balax has now participated in the successful attack on Mon Calamari- particularly enjoying the smell of the locals burning, reminding him of a seafood dish. After the attack though, Balax was not kept on Dac, he received special training to join a new group of Sith. The Jedi Hunters. His time in the Jedi Hunters was marked by two things, the first of course was the thrill of taking down the high and mighty Jedi. The second, was his pursuit of his favorite prey of all time, a Zeltron woman named Sera. In their time aboard The Wicked, Balax tried to force himself on the woman twice, each time foiled by either others on the ship, or just plain bad timing.
The team was chosen to participate in the battle for Yaga Minor, where Balax’s life would change once more. The battle was a resounding success for the Sith, but would be Bal’s death. The Zeltron was sick and tired of his advances, and the battle field was perfect to make it seem like he was killed by the Republicans. Balax Brason as he knew it was killed that day by a sniper shot to the chest. His body was recovered almost instantly by a mysterious trio, no one saw exactly who these people were. They were Sith- and not just the people, but the Force Users. Balax Brason was taken to a compound on Korriban, where Darth Iniquitous’ grand sculpture was brought to life. The battle chassis was designed, created, and altered by the Dark Overlord himself, all it needed was a brain to control it, and Balax Brason was chosen for it.
The man who was once Bal awoke, his mind screamed and raced as the thoughts, beliefs, and knowledge programmed into his brain coursed through his mind. His vision made everything look a slight shade of green, and lines surrounded everything. As he looked around small targeting reticules would follow and lock onto whatever he looked at. The man was perplexed, confused even. His vision panned down to look at himself, and what he saw shocked him. What was once flesh now was cold, black colored metal highlighted in acid green that glowed nefariously. A cloaked and hidden figure greeted the confused abomination, and soon explained what had happened.
Balax Brason, as he knew it, was dead. That name was deleted, along with everything else Darth Iniquitous saw fit. His memories of his time growing up on Coruscant, removed, his former rank and standing in the Sith Military, gone. All he remembered is that he was once human, and that the Sith Order had saved him. A fierce loyalty to the Order was programmed as well, to guarantee that Iniquitous’ masterpiece wouldn’t run off- though Nazara wasn’t aware that it was programmed. Along with that program, the Darth programmed Nazara’s non-organic part of his brain with segments of the Sith Lord’s and Ladies’ learned lightsaber styles, into a blend that could be called Nazara’s own. And finally, Nazara was programmed to follow orders only from the Darth’s themselves, no matter what the order. Weeks of motor function testing, including with his lightsabers, followed his awakening. He followed orders dutifully, but wasn’t sure why he followed them. Nazara just did as he was told, and it was easier to just do it right away instead of fight it.
Nazara has yet to be revealed to the galaxy, but is ready to cause any mayhem or destruction that the Sith Order wishes. Unbeknown to both the Sith and to Nazara himself, but something has been stirring in the deep depths of his brain. Something familiar, something sinister, something hungry…
Lightsaber: Dual wield Single hilt lightsabers that can connect.
Color: Acid Green and Fierce Orange
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 5
Makashi
Soresu
Ataru
Shien / Djem So
>>Sub-form Backhanded
Niman
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield 5
Juyo 3
Double Bladed Combat 5
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 0
Telepathic: 0
Body: 0
Sense: 0
Protection: 0
Healing: 0
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Jedi Hunter Training
Aura of Uneasiness (Alchemically Infused)
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 8
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 6
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 8
Melee Weapons: 0
Ranged Weapons: 8
Force Attunement: -10
RP Sample:
The door slammed with a massive metal clang that echoed throughout the auditorium. A robed man stumbled from the door he just slammed and he watched it with obvious fear in his eyes. The two other people with the robed man raised their rifles up to their armored shoulders. The female trooper turned her gaze to the robed Jedi as sweat beaded down her face. Her male counterpart collapsed into a seat, and ran his gloved hand over his face.
“Man… it hit so fast. I’ve never seen a droid fight like that before, what the bloody hell was that? There was twelve of us! How does a droid kill ten men so FAST! C’mon Master Jedi, surely you know what this thing is?”
The male trooper stammered as he pulled a canteen from his side pack. He took a deep swig and pulled it down with a satisfied groan. The female trooper grimaced, she knew that Harkin only had liquid that would make you blind. Damn I’d kill for some water… She thought. But Jackie didn’t blame him for wanting a strong drink at this point, he was right, that thing had cut down their fire team faster than an angry gundark in a room full of babies. Even the Jedi hadn’t spoken a word since the attack. It figured that out of the three that were left, she would be the bravest in the face of this assailant. She pressed a hand to her left temple and leaned against one of the seats as well. What could they possibly do against such pure hatred?
“We need to get out of here. There has to be some sort of roof access, a way out of here. Right now, we’re trapped like womp rats.”
Jackie said as she turned her gaze from the Jedi to Harkin. The Jedi did nothing more than stare at the door still, and Harkin sighed heavily. Useless, bloody useless… She thought before shaking her head and stepping away from the other pair. She wandered the large room, her eyes looked for some sort of exit that would be hidden from the room. Finally she found something, in the rafters towards the small stage, a hatch-like door that probably lead up to the roof maintenance area. And that was a way out. She peered over to call over Harkin and the Jedi when a loud bang rang out through the room. They had heard this once before, and seconds later her entire fire team was in ribbons.
“Game over man! Game over!”
Shouted Harkin after he sprung from his seat. His rifle was shouldered and he panned left and right, desperately searching for the source of the sound. Another bang sounded and Harkin accidently fired off a round, which scared the Jedi into dropping his lightsaber. Jackie shouldered her rifle as well, but couldn’t help but stare in disbelief at this pitiful, silent excuse of a Jedi. Prolly soiled himself… She thought in disgust. She knew that the thing would come out in front of her somewhere, the stage funneled the sound well enough for her to know that. Another bang sounded, and Harkin was sweating almost as furious as he was whimpering. Jackie kept her cool though, sure, she was scared. Scared enough that what she thought was sweat on her body was probably urine as well. Another bang, and Jackie was shocked to feel her eyes well up and mix with sweat as it fell.
“Screw this.”
She grunted and slung her rifle back into her holster. Jackie jogged over to the tall, metal ladder that lead to the hatch, and began climbing desperately. And then it happened. With a massive cracking boom the ceiling above the Jedi crumbled in and collapsed around him. He screamed and rolled to the side but coughed on the dust that had filled the area around him. Suddenly, a pair of beams of light flashed to life with a snap-hiss! The Jedi began to sputter and shake in fear as the orange and green beams moved closer to him. Harkin was already on the move, he sprinted away from the Jedi and towards Jackie at full tilt.
”BWAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
With a roar and a flash of energy the thing finally sprung out from the dust cloud with sabers whirling. Like a massive, armored wraith its skull-like face loomed just over the Jedi as it landed with a heavy thudding sound. With a hum like a swarm of angry wasps its two lightsabers spun before neatly dissecting the brown-robed Jedi, and the thing was already on the move. Its face turned towards Harkin’s fleeing form and the saber in its right hand snapped off and it was stowed into its shoulder. A click followed by a whir would sound and the thing’s right thigh opened and a metal holster tilted slightly out of it, a large revolver-type gun in it. The metal wraith drew the gun and stepped forward in time with its arm that brought the gun up. A massive shot rang out and Harkin’s left shoulder exploded into ground meat and sent him tumbling forward. A low, satisfied growl sounded from the metal monster as it lowered the gun and slipped it back into the holster.
“Sith spit…”
Whimpered Jackie as she forced herself higher up on the ladder, she didn’t see what became of Harkin. After the sound of a particularly wet sounding squelch she had begun to seriously haul ass, and finally made it to the hatch that was thankfully unlocked. She made it through the hatch and slammed it shut, her blaster rifle quickly removed from its holster to blast-weld the door shut. Jackie’s eyes scanned the cloudy skies above and around the area, desperately searching for the dropship that was supposed to come and pick the survivors up. But it was nowhere to be seen. All of a sudden the roof behind Jackie blasted upwards and sent her rolling away from it. Instantly her blaster was trained on the not too surprising appearance of the attacker. She squeezed a couple shots off as it stomped towards her but they just bounced off the shiny metal.
Her eyes got wide as the enemy grabbed the barrel of her blaster, and wretched the weapon from her hand and sent it off the edge of the roof. Before she could even speak, its hand was wrapped around her throat, and Jackie was being held upwards by her neck. Her features went red and she struggled for freedom. A heavy, cruel laugh echoed from the obsidian colored machine, obviously entertained by her plight.
”No doubt you wait on your Republic ship. You wait in vain, your friends have been decimated, as will everything else you’ve ever cared for, ever loved, taken by my grip. I Nazara, will be the harbinger of your demise. There will be no honor in your death.”
Rumbled Nazara, to Jackie’s surprise. Here, all this time, they had assumed this was some sort of war droid the Sith- sent here on some sort of test run. But by the way it spoke, moved, and acted- it was all too apparent. This was no mere droid, this was an abomination of mechanical and organic creation- a war machine. With a flick of his wrist, Jackie’s thoughts were ended, and Nazara tossed her body off the ledge of the building as well. His mission had ended, the team was dead, and once more, he had passed his Master’s test. A set of rendezvous coordinates slid up in his HUD, and Nazara turned away from the ledge where Jackie had been tossed, and began to make his way to the LZ.
