Post by ballenmaius on Oct 13, 2012 17:00:46 GMT -5
Hello everyone, my name is Ty. This is my first attempt at roleplaying. I greatly appreciate any constructive criticism in the creation of my online character. I thank you for your considerations.
Name: Ballen Maius
Race: Human
Age: 24
Height: 1.85m
Weight: 90kg
Appearance: Ballen is a tall, well-built young man. He has short, dark hair. Years of strife have molded him into the form of not only a warrior, but a survivor as well. Ballen is a strong-jawed, fairly attractive human male. Ballen was born with blue eyes, but they have warped to a reddish-yellow in recent years. His attractive features bare the scars of of vibroblades, blaster bolts, and other wounds. Ballen's attire consists of grey robes reminiscent of those worn by some Jedi, as well as Jedi outcasts. Underneath these robes however, Ballen chooses to don a light armor made of Mandalorian metal. The armor is similar to the neo-crusader body harness worn by Mandalorian soldiers, however it is a deep, metallic black in color. His boots are similarly made, consistent of his Mandalorian tutelage.
Personality: Ballen's personality is somewhat complicated. His peers have described him to be violent, but reserved in his wrath. Self-hatred for the murder of his mother torments his mind, causing him to unleash that hatred upon those who oppose him. He is well-spoken, although he has no formal education. He may appear at first to be suave and gentlemanly young adult, but beneath the surface, a storm brews with uncertain emotional conflict. His voice is deep and masculine, capable of both comforting or menacing tone when truly needed. He believes himself to be superior to others because of his natural talents, but his degree of arrogance often overshadows his capabilities. This is a an issue that his Mandalorian "Mentor" addressed again and again.
Birth place: Centares
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Apprentice
Lightsaber: Double-Bladed, grey hilt.
Color: Vibrant Iridescent Violet
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 1
Makashi NA
Soresu NA
Ataru NA
Shien / Djem So 1
>>Sub-form Backhanded NA
Niman 1
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield NA
Juyo 1
Double Bladed combat
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 3
Telepathic: 1
Body: 1
Sense: 3
Protection: 3
Healing: 1
Destruction: 1
Specialized Skills: Force Repulse
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 6
Unarmed: 6
Melee Weapons: 7
Ranged Weapons: 7
Bio:
Birth-Adolescence
I was born on the planet of Centares, brought into a world of hardship and survival. The Republic had taken the planet into their sight, and as such, begun the formation of military bases and space ports. My father, a man by the name of Dormus Maius, declared publicly that The Republic presence on Centares was responsible for the recently declining economy. Republic officials quickly moved on the propagandist and after what was described as a brief scuffle, he was taken into custody. I was six at the time.
Thanks to insider in the republic communication's network, I got my hands on mission report of the incident. One Republic soldier stated: When we entered that damn house, it was like a heavy mist was in the air. We could all see fine, but we all felt something was just...off. Once we located and began to contract Designation 8373 (Dormus) his child screamed. I've never heard anything like it. The absolute hatred behind it was....unnerving. My squad mate was thrown two meters back and out the window. It broke his damn collarbone. Official reports state that the father must have been something we're calling "force-sensitive." Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. All I know is that I hope I never have to set foot on that planet again, because there is something very wrong with that child, and we all felt it.
Adolescence-Adulthood
As I grew towards adolescence, so did my lack of control. During the early half of my fourteenth year, my mother began physically abusing me. I don't know why this began, but I know that I trusted her, loved her. In recent years, she had begun to become more and more distant. I had walked in on her a few times with a new man. I never knew his name. But, I do know he introduced her to Glitterstim, an addictive and harmful spice. Late into my my fifteenth year, she came at me in a rage during one of her "highs." Her intent was to hit me with a durasteel beam she had gotten from her new man. A crude weapon, but effective in causing pain, I assure you. By this time, my fury at her was undeniable. I ran towards her without even thinking. I moved on instinct rather than a planned course of action. As my left shoulder slammed into her chest cavity, I felt her ribs shatter. The blow knocked her back through the doorway of the house. She fell into the mud as the heavy rain cascaded around her. Within an instant, I was on her. I tore the beam from her hand and dealt a blow to the side of her head, again and again. The first strike was the on that killed her, but I didn't want to kill her. I wanted to watch her body break. My pain transcended into an anger I could not control. Local authorities pursued me to a local spaceport where I managed to hide myself on a cargo frigate. After only a few minutes, they continued to search elsewhere. Relieved, I began to exit my hiding place. The ship departed before I could do, much to my chagrin.
The ship departed Centares, and made birth on Dxun, the fourth moon of Onderon. It was there that I was found and captured by the Mandalorian outcast, Coolak Kenv. He had left the Mandalorian way and made his home on Dxun. The case in which I chose to hide on Centares was full of goods that were meant for Coolak. Surprisingly,he found my vicious nature to be not only tolerable, but admirable. When the case was opened and I was discovered, I found out first hand what a Wester-34 barrel looks like. It wasn't exactly pleasant. However, when my age became apparent, Coolak withdrew the blaster and began his questions. After questioning me about how I got into his shipment, and receiving surprising honesty, Coolak began to train me in the way of Hukaatir A'den, a Mandalorian martial art that not only formed the body into a killing machine via usage of a double bladed sword-staff, but also taught control and self-subjugation. Coolak trained me in this art for six years, in which time I also received training that would have been given to a Mandalorian youth of the same age. At nineteen years of age, I could wield a blaster pistol with confidence, prove markmenship with a rifle, and meet my master blade to blade. Though slow at start because of my unwillingness to be controlled, eventually he became like a father to me.
Early Adulthood
At the age of twenty-one, I chose to leave Dxun, and Coolak behind. I believe that he knew as well as I that I needed to find my destiny. I managed to earn enough credits in three years through security detail for a Republic outpost. I escorted several merchants through the dense jungles of Dxun, along with a few soldiers as well. When I had enough to catch a ship off-planet, I did. The ship was yet another cargo transport, though this one was on it's way to a planet I was unfamiliar with. It was called Dantooine. For some reason or another, I felt drawn to this place. It was if the answers I had always hoped to find would find me here. Deep within my chest beats still the pain of my childhood, the suffering and malcontent. I have held on to that pain so long, and it has been my strength. I don't want to hurt any longer. I want to let go. I do not know why, but I feel that for the first time since early childhood, I will find peace.
RP Sample: Ballen directly after the accidental murder of his mother: A young human male kneels in the mud just outside of the home he shares with his mother on the mid-rim planet, Centares. The temperate climate has chosen rain for it's weather this night. The cool air and the wet drops of precipitation create a frigid sense in the body of the young man. Among the rain, two trails of tears running down his soft blue eyes were barely noticeable. A crack of thunder is heard in the distance, and after several seconds, a flash of lightening cascades across the dark sky.
The brief instance of light brought into view another figure: A middle-aged woman. The woman lies in the young man's arms, her body limp and lifeless. The young man lifts his head, his tear-strewn eyes piercing the darkness around him as he calls out into the night. His voice is dampened by the heavy rain, his call an unintelligible and savage roar. Pain is a mask upon his face, concealing what lies underneath. The boy lowers his arms, the woman's body rolling into the mud. He slams his fists down into the ground, covering himself with filth and grime. His body shakes with a tremor of volatile suffering.
Two kilometers away, the siren of a police speeder whines through rain, it's sound reaching the young man's ears. He stands quickly, his head swiveling to take in his surroundings. To the South and West, only plains. But to the North lies the sprawl of the city. Without hesitation, he turns north and begins to run.
Ballen in his days on Dxun:
*As his body and mind focus into the combat, Ballen lifts his rifle. A single bolt of plasma exits the barrel, screaming down the valley wall towards it's target. Ballen's eyes never flicker, his chest never moves as he ceases to draw breath. The bolt makes it's target, a raging boma. The beast receives the blow on it's back left leg. lifting up and roaring, it turns through the bush and makes it's way into another, larger opening. As it does, a drexl, catching the wind current's spots the beast and dives for it. The ensuing sounds secure Ballen's intent. The young merc turns his head towards the merchants he's escorting.* The valley is clear, let's move.
Name: Ballen Maius
Race: Human
Age: 24
Height: 1.85m
Weight: 90kg
Appearance: Ballen is a tall, well-built young man. He has short, dark hair. Years of strife have molded him into the form of not only a warrior, but a survivor as well. Ballen is a strong-jawed, fairly attractive human male. Ballen was born with blue eyes, but they have warped to a reddish-yellow in recent years. His attractive features bare the scars of of vibroblades, blaster bolts, and other wounds. Ballen's attire consists of grey robes reminiscent of those worn by some Jedi, as well as Jedi outcasts. Underneath these robes however, Ballen chooses to don a light armor made of Mandalorian metal. The armor is similar to the neo-crusader body harness worn by Mandalorian soldiers, however it is a deep, metallic black in color. His boots are similarly made, consistent of his Mandalorian tutelage.
Personality: Ballen's personality is somewhat complicated. His peers have described him to be violent, but reserved in his wrath. Self-hatred for the murder of his mother torments his mind, causing him to unleash that hatred upon those who oppose him. He is well-spoken, although he has no formal education. He may appear at first to be suave and gentlemanly young adult, but beneath the surface, a storm brews with uncertain emotional conflict. His voice is deep and masculine, capable of both comforting or menacing tone when truly needed. He believes himself to be superior to others because of his natural talents, but his degree of arrogance often overshadows his capabilities. This is a an issue that his Mandalorian "Mentor" addressed again and again.
Birth place: Centares
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Apprentice
Lightsaber: Double-Bladed, grey hilt.
Color: Vibrant Iridescent Violet
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 1
Makashi NA
Soresu NA
Ataru NA
Shien / Djem So 1
>>Sub-form Backhanded NA
Niman 1
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield NA
Juyo 1
Double Bladed combat
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 3
Telepathic: 1
Body: 1
Sense: 3
Protection: 3
Healing: 1
Destruction: 1
Specialized Skills: Force Repulse
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 5
Leadership: 6
Unarmed: 6
Melee Weapons: 7
Ranged Weapons: 7
Bio:
Birth-Adolescence
I was born on the planet of Centares, brought into a world of hardship and survival. The Republic had taken the planet into their sight, and as such, begun the formation of military bases and space ports. My father, a man by the name of Dormus Maius, declared publicly that The Republic presence on Centares was responsible for the recently declining economy. Republic officials quickly moved on the propagandist and after what was described as a brief scuffle, he was taken into custody. I was six at the time.
Thanks to insider in the republic communication's network, I got my hands on mission report of the incident. One Republic soldier stated: When we entered that damn house, it was like a heavy mist was in the air. We could all see fine, but we all felt something was just...off. Once we located and began to contract Designation 8373 (Dormus) his child screamed. I've never heard anything like it. The absolute hatred behind it was....unnerving. My squad mate was thrown two meters back and out the window. It broke his damn collarbone. Official reports state that the father must have been something we're calling "force-sensitive." Maybe he was, maybe he wasn't. All I know is that I hope I never have to set foot on that planet again, because there is something very wrong with that child, and we all felt it.
Adolescence-Adulthood
As I grew towards adolescence, so did my lack of control. During the early half of my fourteenth year, my mother began physically abusing me. I don't know why this began, but I know that I trusted her, loved her. In recent years, she had begun to become more and more distant. I had walked in on her a few times with a new man. I never knew his name. But, I do know he introduced her to Glitterstim, an addictive and harmful spice. Late into my my fifteenth year, she came at me in a rage during one of her "highs." Her intent was to hit me with a durasteel beam she had gotten from her new man. A crude weapon, but effective in causing pain, I assure you. By this time, my fury at her was undeniable. I ran towards her without even thinking. I moved on instinct rather than a planned course of action. As my left shoulder slammed into her chest cavity, I felt her ribs shatter. The blow knocked her back through the doorway of the house. She fell into the mud as the heavy rain cascaded around her. Within an instant, I was on her. I tore the beam from her hand and dealt a blow to the side of her head, again and again. The first strike was the on that killed her, but I didn't want to kill her. I wanted to watch her body break. My pain transcended into an anger I could not control. Local authorities pursued me to a local spaceport where I managed to hide myself on a cargo frigate. After only a few minutes, they continued to search elsewhere. Relieved, I began to exit my hiding place. The ship departed before I could do, much to my chagrin.
The ship departed Centares, and made birth on Dxun, the fourth moon of Onderon. It was there that I was found and captured by the Mandalorian outcast, Coolak Kenv. He had left the Mandalorian way and made his home on Dxun. The case in which I chose to hide on Centares was full of goods that were meant for Coolak. Surprisingly,he found my vicious nature to be not only tolerable, but admirable. When the case was opened and I was discovered, I found out first hand what a Wester-34 barrel looks like. It wasn't exactly pleasant. However, when my age became apparent, Coolak withdrew the blaster and began his questions. After questioning me about how I got into his shipment, and receiving surprising honesty, Coolak began to train me in the way of Hukaatir A'den, a Mandalorian martial art that not only formed the body into a killing machine via usage of a double bladed sword-staff, but also taught control and self-subjugation. Coolak trained me in this art for six years, in which time I also received training that would have been given to a Mandalorian youth of the same age. At nineteen years of age, I could wield a blaster pistol with confidence, prove markmenship with a rifle, and meet my master blade to blade. Though slow at start because of my unwillingness to be controlled, eventually he became like a father to me.
Early Adulthood
At the age of twenty-one, I chose to leave Dxun, and Coolak behind. I believe that he knew as well as I that I needed to find my destiny. I managed to earn enough credits in three years through security detail for a Republic outpost. I escorted several merchants through the dense jungles of Dxun, along with a few soldiers as well. When I had enough to catch a ship off-planet, I did. The ship was yet another cargo transport, though this one was on it's way to a planet I was unfamiliar with. It was called Dantooine. For some reason or another, I felt drawn to this place. It was if the answers I had always hoped to find would find me here. Deep within my chest beats still the pain of my childhood, the suffering and malcontent. I have held on to that pain so long, and it has been my strength. I don't want to hurt any longer. I want to let go. I do not know why, but I feel that for the first time since early childhood, I will find peace.
RP Sample: Ballen directly after the accidental murder of his mother: A young human male kneels in the mud just outside of the home he shares with his mother on the mid-rim planet, Centares. The temperate climate has chosen rain for it's weather this night. The cool air and the wet drops of precipitation create a frigid sense in the body of the young man. Among the rain, two trails of tears running down his soft blue eyes were barely noticeable. A crack of thunder is heard in the distance, and after several seconds, a flash of lightening cascades across the dark sky.
The brief instance of light brought into view another figure: A middle-aged woman. The woman lies in the young man's arms, her body limp and lifeless. The young man lifts his head, his tear-strewn eyes piercing the darkness around him as he calls out into the night. His voice is dampened by the heavy rain, his call an unintelligible and savage roar. Pain is a mask upon his face, concealing what lies underneath. The boy lowers his arms, the woman's body rolling into the mud. He slams his fists down into the ground, covering himself with filth and grime. His body shakes with a tremor of volatile suffering.
Two kilometers away, the siren of a police speeder whines through rain, it's sound reaching the young man's ears. He stands quickly, his head swiveling to take in his surroundings. To the South and West, only plains. But to the North lies the sprawl of the city. Without hesitation, he turns north and begins to run.
Ballen in his days on Dxun:
*As his body and mind focus into the combat, Ballen lifts his rifle. A single bolt of plasma exits the barrel, screaming down the valley wall towards it's target. Ballen's eyes never flicker, his chest never moves as he ceases to draw breath. The bolt makes it's target, a raging boma. The beast receives the blow on it's back left leg. lifting up and roaring, it turns through the bush and makes it's way into another, larger opening. As it does, a drexl, catching the wind current's spots the beast and dives for it. The ensuing sounds secure Ballen's intent. The young merc turns his head towards the merchants he's escorting.* The valley is clear, let's move.