Post by kalilormath on Jan 19, 2013 7:14:32 GMT -5
Name:Kal'il Ormath [KAL EEL OR METH]
Race: Twil'ek
Age: 25
Height: 6'
Weight: 146 lbs.
Appearance: He is a red Twil'ek with a slender frame. His tails are kept uniformly behind his shoulders, their base is scrawled with tattoos. A scar graces the right side of his face, ugly and starkly contrasted by his scarlet skin. It runs from his jaw line towards his stubbornly pointy nose. His eyes are a pale ruby, constantly moving from side to side, gathering information on his surroundings.
He wears a odd ensemble that he obviously takes pride in. His shirt is black with revealing deep-cut vee neck, through which his red skin shines through. A common light brown vest, adorns the prided shirt. A pair of multi-pocketed, suede, dark brown pants is belted over his hips and tucked into a pair of ebony boots.
Personality:Kal'il is never the first to strike up conversation. He believes that silence gives him the upper hand in any encounter. Calculating, though not too distant from forming any relationship he deems worthwhile. His demeanor changes with the people around him, hoping to shed his appearance in order to blend with a crowd.
Though he tries his hardest, the soft spot in his heart often betrays his emotions to those with an eye for it. His pursuit of knowledge leads him to a voracious study of any and all texts he can get his hands on, and an almost arrogant air when a topic of interest is current conversation. His ego is bruised by his "deformity" of the scar on his face, and he often sells himself short because of it. Because of his insatiable hunger for learning he is attracted to those that exude it, and can be found seeking those that will share with him.
Birth place: Nal Hutta
Faction: Sith Order
Rank: Initiate
Previous Faction:Grey Jedi
Previous Rank: Knight
Lightsaber: Saber Staff
Color: Orange
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 5
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield 2
Double Bladed Combat 3
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 3
Telepathic: 3
Body: 6
Sense: 4
Protection: 2
Healing: 0
Destruction: 5
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 7
Leadership: 2
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 2
Ranged Weapons: 1
Bio:Born on Nal Hutta, to a favored slave girl of an infamous Hutt, Kal'il had a interesting childhood to say the least. His mother was a cherished red Twil'ek, her dancing pleased the Hutt so much that it even let her keep young Kal'il.
From the begining, his mother sensed something special in him. At the age of eight, she caught him levitating things when he got angry. She knew at the time that if the Hutt were to find out about his affinity, it would definitely be used for nefarious purposes. So she sought out a hermit in the wastelands, a Grey Jedi of some repute on Nal Hutta. He agreed to take the boy and develop his talents.
As Kal'il began his training, he was drawn to the saber. The Jedi saw the natural way the boy played with his own saber and was relieved to know that he could indeed train him well. He began by focusing the boy's attention to his own body.
"The Force flows through everything you see. It is a constant river through which those like us draw power and strength." the Grey Jedi explained, "It can be harnessed to do great and terrible things. It can also allow this saber to be an extension of your mind."
The boy listened and learned well, within a year he was begining to train in Shii-Cho. The Grey Jedi was impressed by how well the child flowed through the exercises. Always eager to be onto the next step. It seemed he would have trouble with the meditating, but he was only a child it was to be expected.
At the age of eleven, Kal'il began to plead for a saber of his own. "I tire of the training saber, how am I to learn these things properly without the correct weight to judge my exercises?" The Jedi was often amused at how quickly the boy produced such contemplative arguments. He finally relented and took the boy to build his saber.
Kal'il had put alot of time into the making of his blade, his love for the exotic mingling with his need to learn more about the forms, produced a saber staff of some quite considerable skill. He judged it after the boy had completed it, "A formidable blade, young one. It is not without its challenges, the staff itself or the two blades it breaks down into."
"I am ready for more, I will work hard towards my goal, Master."With that the Jedi began to train him in the art of the double blade.
As the coming of his nineteenth birthday neared the Grey Jedi began to feel a disturbing hunger growing inside the boy. A insatiable need to perfect his art. For that indeed was how Kal'il treated his saber combat. The boy used the sabers as his brush, the air and sparring targets his canvas. And his endings, became rather unrestrained, usually ending in more destroyed droids.
By his twenty second birthday, the Jedi allowed him to rise to the ranks of Knight. The day began well enough, but the night brought such a disappointing end...
RP Sample:[glow=red,2,300]The Darkest Night[/glow]
A loud crash was heard from inside the clay hut. Sorath sighed, he had seen the signs but allowed them to go unchecked. Tonight, he would pay for his lack of foresight.
The moons were cresting the hills of the wastelands, when Kal'il exited the hut. He was wearing the pants that Sorath had purchased for him, and his scarlett chest was shiny with sweat in the moonlight. Sorath did not turn, he instead stood staring at the moons. "Yet another droid has met its end, eh?"
"I tire of droids, Master. Why will you not spar me? I could learn much from a sentient being of flesh and blood!"
With a heavy sigh, Sorath turned to face his newly made Knight.
"Your lust for battle is thick in the air. I will not spar you. There is no need, when peaceful paths can be traveled."
The boy couldn't believe his ears, had this man, the one who trained him to expertly flourish his blades, to strike without warning, refused to spar in lieu of peace? Peace was a lie, if it were true his mother would not still be a slave girl to a vile slug! This man was a shadow of his former self, a Jedi that had lost faith! There was no alternative to a good battle of blades, the droids didnt compare, he had grown beyond their abilities to test him. He longed for a competent opponent, one that drew on the same power that he did.
"What is wrong with wanting to test what I have learned? Why can't a Knight ask a Master to help him hone his skills against a competent opponent? You are afraid you will lose!?"
Now he sensed it, how could he have been so blind? Sorath shook his head and shivered involuntarily. The Dark Side was oozing from the boy, its voracious hunger eating at the boy's common sense. Did he really think that he had learned enough to combat a Master? "No, I am unafraid of the outcome. Death or victory would not matter. There is a stirring in you of which you either must learn to abolish or embrace. Your training here is over, and I tell you this, should you ever come looking for me I will not be found."
His master's statement had a finality to it that Kal'il did not understand. Sorath was all he knew, he expected to be with him until Sorath either perished of old age or died to some wasteland creature. Suddenly, his demeanor changed, a sudden wash of guilt flew quickly through the boy as he tried to compensate, "Sorath, I meant it in jest! You cannot send me away, I have nowhere to go. I simply wish to do what I love! Please banish me not from your teaching!" The old man simply shook his head. These emotions, pain, abandonment, and an overwhelming lonliness were almost too much to bear. He then felt the familiar fires of anger, his hand flexed swiftly taking the saber from his hip. Igniting both blades and through blurred vision he shouted, "You are a fool! I am not to be banished like some unwanted slave! You owe me more, you have with held long enough, old man! Fight me!"
With the sudden hiss of the ignited saber, Sorath enveloped himself in the Force. He readied himself for the battle, and began his slow circle. Kal'il was being unreasonable, his anger was fueling the power of the Dark Side, and this would not end well if he could not control it. "Can you see what your warmongering has brought, Kal'il? You are bathed in the Dark Side, it is corrupting your judgement!" Kal'il's hand clenched, his power began to mount. Not like this...[/i] Sorath barely registered the leap that Kal'il executed, his own green saber firmly connected with one of the amber blades of Kal'il's staff. Sorath gathered energy enough to blow the skin off a rancor, and repulsed as hard as he could. Kal'il elicted a grunt of suprise before his consciousness winked out, his limp body landing nearly a hundred meters away. Debris from the repulse surged outward in every direction, including the staff that Kal'il had insisted did not need a dead man's switch. Sorath cringed as the blade landed on the right side of Kal'il's face, the tip cutting a ragged scar across the boy. Gathering what Force he could Sorath beckoned the weapon to him, and once in hand extinguished the blades. He would not heal the scar, he would leave it so that Kal'il would never forget what almost transpired here. He hoped, as he walked to Kal'il's form, that the boy would find the path back. He could no longer help him, the child must help himself.
As he laid the staff by the boy's body, he hoped that Kal'il could hear him, "I can no longer pass my wisdom to you, you have traveled to a place that I can neither lead you, nor guide you. Hopefully the training I have given you will allow you to seek the answers in the Force. Kal'il I have failed you, but I know as true as the suns and moons rise and fall, you will find your way. May the Force be with you." Sorath began his walk, never looking back to the boy.
Race: Twil'ek
Age: 25
Height: 6'
Weight: 146 lbs.
Appearance: He is a red Twil'ek with a slender frame. His tails are kept uniformly behind his shoulders, their base is scrawled with tattoos. A scar graces the right side of his face, ugly and starkly contrasted by his scarlet skin. It runs from his jaw line towards his stubbornly pointy nose. His eyes are a pale ruby, constantly moving from side to side, gathering information on his surroundings.
He wears a odd ensemble that he obviously takes pride in. His shirt is black with revealing deep-cut vee neck, through which his red skin shines through. A common light brown vest, adorns the prided shirt. A pair of multi-pocketed, suede, dark brown pants is belted over his hips and tucked into a pair of ebony boots.
Personality:Kal'il is never the first to strike up conversation. He believes that silence gives him the upper hand in any encounter. Calculating, though not too distant from forming any relationship he deems worthwhile. His demeanor changes with the people around him, hoping to shed his appearance in order to blend with a crowd.
Though he tries his hardest, the soft spot in his heart often betrays his emotions to those with an eye for it. His pursuit of knowledge leads him to a voracious study of any and all texts he can get his hands on, and an almost arrogant air when a topic of interest is current conversation. His ego is bruised by his "deformity" of the scar on his face, and he often sells himself short because of it. Because of his insatiable hunger for learning he is attracted to those that exude it, and can be found seeking those that will share with him.
Birth place: Nal Hutta
Faction: Sith Order
Rank: Initiate
Previous Faction:Grey Jedi
Previous Rank: Knight
Lightsaber: Saber Staff
Color: Orange
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho 5
>>Sub-form Jar-kai, or Dual Wield 2
Double Bladed Combat 3
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 3
Telepathic: 3
Body: 6
Sense: 4
Protection: 2
Healing: 0
Destruction: 5
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 7
Speed: 7
Leadership: 2
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 2
Ranged Weapons: 1
Bio:Born on Nal Hutta, to a favored slave girl of an infamous Hutt, Kal'il had a interesting childhood to say the least. His mother was a cherished red Twil'ek, her dancing pleased the Hutt so much that it even let her keep young Kal'il.
From the begining, his mother sensed something special in him. At the age of eight, she caught him levitating things when he got angry. She knew at the time that if the Hutt were to find out about his affinity, it would definitely be used for nefarious purposes. So she sought out a hermit in the wastelands, a Grey Jedi of some repute on Nal Hutta. He agreed to take the boy and develop his talents.
As Kal'il began his training, he was drawn to the saber. The Jedi saw the natural way the boy played with his own saber and was relieved to know that he could indeed train him well. He began by focusing the boy's attention to his own body.
"The Force flows through everything you see. It is a constant river through which those like us draw power and strength." the Grey Jedi explained, "It can be harnessed to do great and terrible things. It can also allow this saber to be an extension of your mind."
The boy listened and learned well, within a year he was begining to train in Shii-Cho. The Grey Jedi was impressed by how well the child flowed through the exercises. Always eager to be onto the next step. It seemed he would have trouble with the meditating, but he was only a child it was to be expected.
At the age of eleven, Kal'il began to plead for a saber of his own. "I tire of the training saber, how am I to learn these things properly without the correct weight to judge my exercises?" The Jedi was often amused at how quickly the boy produced such contemplative arguments. He finally relented and took the boy to build his saber.
Kal'il had put alot of time into the making of his blade, his love for the exotic mingling with his need to learn more about the forms, produced a saber staff of some quite considerable skill. He judged it after the boy had completed it, "A formidable blade, young one. It is not without its challenges, the staff itself or the two blades it breaks down into."
"I am ready for more, I will work hard towards my goal, Master."With that the Jedi began to train him in the art of the double blade.
As the coming of his nineteenth birthday neared the Grey Jedi began to feel a disturbing hunger growing inside the boy. A insatiable need to perfect his art. For that indeed was how Kal'il treated his saber combat. The boy used the sabers as his brush, the air and sparring targets his canvas. And his endings, became rather unrestrained, usually ending in more destroyed droids.
By his twenty second birthday, the Jedi allowed him to rise to the ranks of Knight. The day began well enough, but the night brought such a disappointing end...
RP Sample:[glow=red,2,300]The Darkest Night[/glow]
A loud crash was heard from inside the clay hut. Sorath sighed, he had seen the signs but allowed them to go unchecked. Tonight, he would pay for his lack of foresight.
The moons were cresting the hills of the wastelands, when Kal'il exited the hut. He was wearing the pants that Sorath had purchased for him, and his scarlett chest was shiny with sweat in the moonlight. Sorath did not turn, he instead stood staring at the moons. "Yet another droid has met its end, eh?"
"I tire of droids, Master. Why will you not spar me? I could learn much from a sentient being of flesh and blood!"
With a heavy sigh, Sorath turned to face his newly made Knight.
"Your lust for battle is thick in the air. I will not spar you. There is no need, when peaceful paths can be traveled."
The boy couldn't believe his ears, had this man, the one who trained him to expertly flourish his blades, to strike without warning, refused to spar in lieu of peace? Peace was a lie, if it were true his mother would not still be a slave girl to a vile slug! This man was a shadow of his former self, a Jedi that had lost faith! There was no alternative to a good battle of blades, the droids didnt compare, he had grown beyond their abilities to test him. He longed for a competent opponent, one that drew on the same power that he did.
"What is wrong with wanting to test what I have learned? Why can't a Knight ask a Master to help him hone his skills against a competent opponent? You are afraid you will lose!?"
Now he sensed it, how could he have been so blind? Sorath shook his head and shivered involuntarily. The Dark Side was oozing from the boy, its voracious hunger eating at the boy's common sense. Did he really think that he had learned enough to combat a Master? "No, I am unafraid of the outcome. Death or victory would not matter. There is a stirring in you of which you either must learn to abolish or embrace. Your training here is over, and I tell you this, should you ever come looking for me I will not be found."
His master's statement had a finality to it that Kal'il did not understand. Sorath was all he knew, he expected to be with him until Sorath either perished of old age or died to some wasteland creature. Suddenly, his demeanor changed, a sudden wash of guilt flew quickly through the boy as he tried to compensate, "Sorath, I meant it in jest! You cannot send me away, I have nowhere to go. I simply wish to do what I love! Please banish me not from your teaching!" The old man simply shook his head. These emotions, pain, abandonment, and an overwhelming lonliness were almost too much to bear. He then felt the familiar fires of anger, his hand flexed swiftly taking the saber from his hip. Igniting both blades and through blurred vision he shouted, "You are a fool! I am not to be banished like some unwanted slave! You owe me more, you have with held long enough, old man! Fight me!"
With the sudden hiss of the ignited saber, Sorath enveloped himself in the Force. He readied himself for the battle, and began his slow circle. Kal'il was being unreasonable, his anger was fueling the power of the Dark Side, and this would not end well if he could not control it. "Can you see what your warmongering has brought, Kal'il? You are bathed in the Dark Side, it is corrupting your judgement!" Kal'il's hand clenched, his power began to mount. Not like this...[/i] Sorath barely registered the leap that Kal'il executed, his own green saber firmly connected with one of the amber blades of Kal'il's staff. Sorath gathered energy enough to blow the skin off a rancor, and repulsed as hard as he could. Kal'il elicted a grunt of suprise before his consciousness winked out, his limp body landing nearly a hundred meters away. Debris from the repulse surged outward in every direction, including the staff that Kal'il had insisted did not need a dead man's switch. Sorath cringed as the blade landed on the right side of Kal'il's face, the tip cutting a ragged scar across the boy. Gathering what Force he could Sorath beckoned the weapon to him, and once in hand extinguished the blades. He would not heal the scar, he would leave it so that Kal'il would never forget what almost transpired here. He hoped, as he walked to Kal'il's form, that the boy would find the path back. He could no longer help him, the child must help himself.
As he laid the staff by the boy's body, he hoped that Kal'il could hear him, "I can no longer pass my wisdom to you, you have traveled to a place that I can neither lead you, nor guide you. Hopefully the training I have given you will allow you to seek the answers in the Force. Kal'il I have failed you, but I know as true as the suns and moons rise and fall, you will find your way. May the Force be with you." Sorath began his walk, never looking back to the boy.
