Post by Deceit *Drinker of Jawa-Juice* on Jan 27, 2013 18:01:54 GMT -5
Faction: Republic
Department: Navy
Rank: Petty officer 1st Class.
Name: Rewq Narshol
Race: Human
Age: 22
Height: 139 lbs
Weight: 6'8"
Birth place: Coruscant
Appearance:
Rewq is a skinny lad. His brief but thorough training with the Navy did much to discipline his body, though. While skinny and weak in appearance, his muscles are toned and his reflexes are adapted to suit his line of work. He has short brown hair and usually just wears his uniform. His dark blue eyes are comforting, and he has fair features. There's not much that serparates Rewq Narshol from any other run-of the mill Republic naval officers.
Personality:
Rewq has been trained for survival. His loyalty to anything stretches only as far as he can throw it, and he can't throw many things far. He's cowardly, first one to the life-pods kinda deal. Rewq naturally shies away from dark areas and loud noises, he hates large crowds ( unless it's of Republic troops, he's perfectly comfortable among them [ unless it's a warzone ] ) and just wants to live a normal life piloting and navigating for his ship.
Skills: Navigating and piloting, Rapid Shot.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 7
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 3
Ranged Weapons: 5
Alignment: +3
Bio:
Birth
Rewq Narshol was born by accident. His mother was a proffesional escort, and his father was Coruscant senator. Of course, protection was a must in that line of business, so, Rewq's total trend of luck started when he was -9 months old.
By all scientific probability, he should not have been born. Of course, Rewq hardly applies to the term 'probability.' His parental unit ( the mother ) sent him to an orphanage so that he could have a life away from a sleeperhouse. The orphanage was given explicit instructions never to tell him about his parentage, this way he could never track down his father, and his father's political status would not be in jeopardy from a bastard son. Effectively making Rewq, the luckiest bastard alive.
The Orphanage
He grew up as any orphan would, hungry. His life as an orphan from ages 1-4 was a typical Oliver Twist tale, sad and depressing. When he was 5-8 he started getting more aggresive and more ambitious in life. He begins to steal extra grain and food for himself and the other orphans. The first few times this happened, he got away scott free, of course, eventually the matron of the orphanage and all of the workers discovered the short in food. The next time he tried, Rewq got caught, and harshly punished. ( His cheecks [ face and otherwise ] were sore for a week. )
Rewq was bullied by other orphans, and found the whole place down-right depressing. Ages 9-10 were total hell for him, as the workers of the orphanage would be mean to him, grumpy that he had a past as a rascal, and that he hadn't yet been adopted by anybody.
Unexpected, and Unknown, Reunions
Rewq ran away from the orphanage and found a nice box to live in. If he had been hungry before-hand, but now he knew entirely new definitions of hunger. He was about ready to fall over dead, ready to eat out of the garbage, hunger. One day, a rich politician happened upon Rewq, seeing him laying half-dead on the ground. Thinking it would be excellent for his public opinion, the politician takes the young boy in as a house servant.
Unbeknownst to either of them, the politician happened to be his dead-beat father! Since the politician, a man named Phraxis Yearn, had no clue it was his son, he treated the young boy kindly and politely, almost as if he had a heart. Of course, it was mostly for selfish reasons, but Rewq's survival rate and chance at success grew exceedingly from that point on.
Delivery!
Rewq took up life as a courier servant for his 'adoptive' father. He quickly learned how to run about the house and the neighborhood in order to earn a living. He liked running, so he did his best to do his job as fast as he could. His father found, that by the age of twelve, the boy was so good at this courier service, he could probably do it proffesionally. This is why the man started training the kid to use one of the cars he owned to fly around Coruscant. Of course, this was only training, the kid could not legally fly yet.
When he was fourteen, he hit a growth spurt, and he grew to nice and tall, lean, about two years older in appearance than he was. This, his 'adoptive' father thought, was good. He set him up with a fake ID and remembered that he hadn't officially registered the boy yet, so nobody could dispute how old he was. Thinking quickly, Phraxis entered him in as sixteen. To this day, the legal documents show him as two years older than he actually is.
Rewq took to flying and technical stuff quite well, and within a year became the best Courier man in all of Coruscant, delivering messages like it was from a God's mouth themself.
See the Galaxy, They Told Me
At the age of sixteen, he took a serious interest in the navy, where he'd be able to pilot a real ship. The prospect excited him. He was gonna grow to be a Starfighter for the Republic Navy. Fantasies of flying through the great black expanse of face glittered in his thoughts. He didn't act on these thoughts until he was seventeen, 19 by all legal accounts, and almost of true age for the military.
When he arrived at the recruitment station, he was all set to sign-up, fantasies bright in his mind. Until he realized, that republic was in a dangerous state, with pirates, lawbreakers, slavers, and talk of war, including the Mandalorian. He had already gone this far, so he wasn't about to back-out, but he realized that perhaps he should sign-up for something with a higher life to death ratio. So, he signed up hoping to become an officer on a ship, the kind that hangs out in the bridge and works the technical stuff.
Shippin' Out to Basic
Basic training was harsh and miserable for Rewq, the only thing that made it tolerable was the great friend he'd made, Gerrard Larsik. Six months of harsh training and he became officially recognized as trained and physically fit for the tasks he may have to perform. Luckily enough, him and Gerrard, his only friend, were both sent to The Machete, a Corvette in the Republic Fleet.
The Machete
Rewq started out as a Petty Officer 3rd class. His job was to run logistics on the ship, despite his prowess. Rewq hated this job, so he did the very best he could. Despite his best effort, he was still quite poodooty at the job. The Captain gave him a higher rank more because he didn't want him screwing the prior job than because he felt Rewq deserved it. Rewq's only skills lay in piloting and navigational/sensory arrays, and since Rewq refused to pilot a ship into the, 'death trap' as he put it, Captain Fardo Masank, put him on Navigations. Since the lowest permissible rank needed to be Petty Officer 1st Class, Rewq got a few promotions.
RP Sample:
Rewq's gulp was louder than he had expected.
"Why aren't we changing course."
There was a loud silence in the air. It hung like a cloud of swarming bugs announcing Rewq's purgatory. Each atom in the air suspended in its stillness seemed to scream at him move! or turn or scream!. But to their silence he responded with his own roaring silence, the loudest statement he could make, screaming his own defeat.
There was a beeping, "They're getting away. 700 meters. 800 meters. 900, still."
"PETTY OFFICER CHANGE COURSE FOR PURSUIT!" Captain Masank screamed.
Rewq's silence was now the only sound he could hear. Nothing but fear, terror. Death awaited him if he changed course. Death awaited him if he obeyed, and yet failure awaited him if he disobeyed. His silence seemed to scream to the crew until someone finally jumped up with an exasperated cry and ran towards him.
The strike came hard and sharp, a smack clear across his face. Rewq suddenly snapped to attention. The pain in his cheeks seemed to jar him back to reality. Suddenly his fear was alleviated; or rather masked, "Move your ASS Petty Officer!" The captain screamed. And Rewq did, plugging the coordinates for a different course. The Machete immediately peeled to the right, accelerating. The thrum and propulsion was soft and familiar. Rewq felt his heart fall from his throat and his mind seemed to clear up. Danger. Yes, they were going into danger. But they had the upper-hand. The chance of defeat was slim. Regardless, it was his job to go into danger and pursuit. If he didn't he would let down the Republic and every man aboard the Machete.
"Sorry sir. Routing all available escapes and pursuit methods now."
"Sir, they are sending fighters after us!"
"Ready the cannons!"
Rewq bit his lip. There was a slight vibration as the ship was hit with blaster fire and bombs. "Taking hits!" He panicked.
"Shields are holding stay on course!" Captain Masank said calmly, holding a hand out toward Rewq.
Rewq took a deep breath, plugging in the numbers. Very loud, rhythmic blasting sounds could be heard above and behind as though someone were pounding at the ship's hull. That wasn't the enemy though, that was Gerrard, Rewq's friend. "Let's get these pirates." Rewq growled. He was scared, yes, terrified even. But Gerrard had his back and he would not falter now.
"The enemy is turning towards us."
"Focus the Ion cannons and the heavy lasers on that vessel."
"Crazy bastards can't take us what are they thinking?" the Comm's officer exclaimed.
"Rewq what is their course?"
"It looks like they plan on passing by us...wait, no, they are angling toward us. PULL UP they plan on ramming us!"
"800 meters! 600 meters!"
The ship suddenly torqued upward. Rewq was nearly thrown from his seat by the violent jerk. He watched the blip on his navigation screens as the enemy ship sailed just beneath them. There was a huge news and what seemed like an explosion. The ship rocked about wildly, and this time Rewq really did fall from his chair. He jumped back up immediately once the ship stopped shaking.
"Damage assessment?"
"Sir they are going into hyperspeed!"
"Dammit, turn around and give Larsik an angle immediately!"
The ship turned. It wasn't beautiful, but it was a turn. The corvette was much faster and better equipped than the enemy pirate ship, and managed to catch up just in time.
"Destroy their engines."
Rewq looked out of the forward view-screen just in time to see four or five large red blasts of energy course through space. The explosion was great. The fire plumed out in all directions.
"Dead in the water, sir." Rewq said with relief.
"The battle is almost done. Comm's officer Belet send them a message. Surrender peacefully and nobody will be harmed. Refuse and they will be turned into scrap metal."
Department: Navy
Rank: Petty officer 1st Class.
Name: Rewq Narshol
Race: Human
Age: 22
Height: 139 lbs
Weight: 6'8"
Birth place: Coruscant
Appearance:
Rewq is a skinny lad. His brief but thorough training with the Navy did much to discipline his body, though. While skinny and weak in appearance, his muscles are toned and his reflexes are adapted to suit his line of work. He has short brown hair and usually just wears his uniform. His dark blue eyes are comforting, and he has fair features. There's not much that serparates Rewq Narshol from any other run-of the mill Republic naval officers.
Personality:
Rewq has been trained for survival. His loyalty to anything stretches only as far as he can throw it, and he can't throw many things far. He's cowardly, first one to the life-pods kinda deal. Rewq naturally shies away from dark areas and loud noises, he hates large crowds ( unless it's of Republic troops, he's perfectly comfortable among them [ unless it's a warzone ] ) and just wants to live a normal life piloting and navigating for his ship.
Skills: Navigating and piloting, Rapid Shot.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 4
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 7
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 3
Ranged Weapons: 5
Alignment: +3
Bio:
Birth
Rewq Narshol was born by accident. His mother was a proffesional escort, and his father was Coruscant senator. Of course, protection was a must in that line of business, so, Rewq's total trend of luck started when he was -9 months old.
By all scientific probability, he should not have been born. Of course, Rewq hardly applies to the term 'probability.' His parental unit ( the mother ) sent him to an orphanage so that he could have a life away from a sleeperhouse. The orphanage was given explicit instructions never to tell him about his parentage, this way he could never track down his father, and his father's political status would not be in jeopardy from a bastard son. Effectively making Rewq, the luckiest bastard alive.
The Orphanage
He grew up as any orphan would, hungry. His life as an orphan from ages 1-4 was a typical Oliver Twist tale, sad and depressing. When he was 5-8 he started getting more aggresive and more ambitious in life. He begins to steal extra grain and food for himself and the other orphans. The first few times this happened, he got away scott free, of course, eventually the matron of the orphanage and all of the workers discovered the short in food. The next time he tried, Rewq got caught, and harshly punished. ( His cheecks [ face and otherwise ] were sore for a week. )
Rewq was bullied by other orphans, and found the whole place down-right depressing. Ages 9-10 were total hell for him, as the workers of the orphanage would be mean to him, grumpy that he had a past as a rascal, and that he hadn't yet been adopted by anybody.
Unexpected, and Unknown, Reunions
Rewq ran away from the orphanage and found a nice box to live in. If he had been hungry before-hand, but now he knew entirely new definitions of hunger. He was about ready to fall over dead, ready to eat out of the garbage, hunger. One day, a rich politician happened upon Rewq, seeing him laying half-dead on the ground. Thinking it would be excellent for his public opinion, the politician takes the young boy in as a house servant.
Unbeknownst to either of them, the politician happened to be his dead-beat father! Since the politician, a man named Phraxis Yearn, had no clue it was his son, he treated the young boy kindly and politely, almost as if he had a heart. Of course, it was mostly for selfish reasons, but Rewq's survival rate and chance at success grew exceedingly from that point on.
Delivery!
Rewq took up life as a courier servant for his 'adoptive' father. He quickly learned how to run about the house and the neighborhood in order to earn a living. He liked running, so he did his best to do his job as fast as he could. His father found, that by the age of twelve, the boy was so good at this courier service, he could probably do it proffesionally. This is why the man started training the kid to use one of the cars he owned to fly around Coruscant. Of course, this was only training, the kid could not legally fly yet.
When he was fourteen, he hit a growth spurt, and he grew to nice and tall, lean, about two years older in appearance than he was. This, his 'adoptive' father thought, was good. He set him up with a fake ID and remembered that he hadn't officially registered the boy yet, so nobody could dispute how old he was. Thinking quickly, Phraxis entered him in as sixteen. To this day, the legal documents show him as two years older than he actually is.
Rewq took to flying and technical stuff quite well, and within a year became the best Courier man in all of Coruscant, delivering messages like it was from a God's mouth themself.
See the Galaxy, They Told Me
At the age of sixteen, he took a serious interest in the navy, where he'd be able to pilot a real ship. The prospect excited him. He was gonna grow to be a Starfighter for the Republic Navy. Fantasies of flying through the great black expanse of face glittered in his thoughts. He didn't act on these thoughts until he was seventeen, 19 by all legal accounts, and almost of true age for the military.
When he arrived at the recruitment station, he was all set to sign-up, fantasies bright in his mind. Until he realized, that republic was in a dangerous state, with pirates, lawbreakers, slavers, and talk of war, including the Mandalorian. He had already gone this far, so he wasn't about to back-out, but he realized that perhaps he should sign-up for something with a higher life to death ratio. So, he signed up hoping to become an officer on a ship, the kind that hangs out in the bridge and works the technical stuff.
Shippin' Out to Basic
Basic training was harsh and miserable for Rewq, the only thing that made it tolerable was the great friend he'd made, Gerrard Larsik. Six months of harsh training and he became officially recognized as trained and physically fit for the tasks he may have to perform. Luckily enough, him and Gerrard, his only friend, were both sent to The Machete, a Corvette in the Republic Fleet.
The Machete
Rewq started out as a Petty Officer 3rd class. His job was to run logistics on the ship, despite his prowess. Rewq hated this job, so he did the very best he could. Despite his best effort, he was still quite poodooty at the job. The Captain gave him a higher rank more because he didn't want him screwing the prior job than because he felt Rewq deserved it. Rewq's only skills lay in piloting and navigational/sensory arrays, and since Rewq refused to pilot a ship into the, 'death trap' as he put it, Captain Fardo Masank, put him on Navigations. Since the lowest permissible rank needed to be Petty Officer 1st Class, Rewq got a few promotions.
RP Sample:
Rewq's gulp was louder than he had expected.
"Why aren't we changing course."
There was a loud silence in the air. It hung like a cloud of swarming bugs announcing Rewq's purgatory. Each atom in the air suspended in its stillness seemed to scream at him move! or turn or scream!. But to their silence he responded with his own roaring silence, the loudest statement he could make, screaming his own defeat.
There was a beeping, "They're getting away. 700 meters. 800 meters. 900, still."
"PETTY OFFICER CHANGE COURSE FOR PURSUIT!" Captain Masank screamed.
Rewq's silence was now the only sound he could hear. Nothing but fear, terror. Death awaited him if he changed course. Death awaited him if he obeyed, and yet failure awaited him if he disobeyed. His silence seemed to scream to the crew until someone finally jumped up with an exasperated cry and ran towards him.
The strike came hard and sharp, a smack clear across his face. Rewq suddenly snapped to attention. The pain in his cheeks seemed to jar him back to reality. Suddenly his fear was alleviated; or rather masked, "Move your ASS Petty Officer!" The captain screamed. And Rewq did, plugging the coordinates for a different course. The Machete immediately peeled to the right, accelerating. The thrum and propulsion was soft and familiar. Rewq felt his heart fall from his throat and his mind seemed to clear up. Danger. Yes, they were going into danger. But they had the upper-hand. The chance of defeat was slim. Regardless, it was his job to go into danger and pursuit. If he didn't he would let down the Republic and every man aboard the Machete.
"Sorry sir. Routing all available escapes and pursuit methods now."
"Sir, they are sending fighters after us!"
"Ready the cannons!"
Rewq bit his lip. There was a slight vibration as the ship was hit with blaster fire and bombs. "Taking hits!" He panicked.
"Shields are holding stay on course!" Captain Masank said calmly, holding a hand out toward Rewq.
Rewq took a deep breath, plugging in the numbers. Very loud, rhythmic blasting sounds could be heard above and behind as though someone were pounding at the ship's hull. That wasn't the enemy though, that was Gerrard, Rewq's friend. "Let's get these pirates." Rewq growled. He was scared, yes, terrified even. But Gerrard had his back and he would not falter now.
"The enemy is turning towards us."
"Focus the Ion cannons and the heavy lasers on that vessel."
"Crazy bastards can't take us what are they thinking?" the Comm's officer exclaimed.
"Rewq what is their course?"
"It looks like they plan on passing by us...wait, no, they are angling toward us. PULL UP they plan on ramming us!"
"800 meters! 600 meters!"
The ship suddenly torqued upward. Rewq was nearly thrown from his seat by the violent jerk. He watched the blip on his navigation screens as the enemy ship sailed just beneath them. There was a huge news and what seemed like an explosion. The ship rocked about wildly, and this time Rewq really did fall from his chair. He jumped back up immediately once the ship stopped shaking.
"Damage assessment?"
"Sir they are going into hyperspeed!"
"Dammit, turn around and give Larsik an angle immediately!"
The ship turned. It wasn't beautiful, but it was a turn. The corvette was much faster and better equipped than the enemy pirate ship, and managed to catch up just in time.
"Destroy their engines."
Rewq looked out of the forward view-screen just in time to see four or five large red blasts of energy course through space. The explosion was great. The fire plumed out in all directions.
"Dead in the water, sir." Rewq said with relief.
"The battle is almost done. Comm's officer Belet send them a message. Surrender peacefully and nobody will be harmed. Refuse and they will be turned into scrap metal."
It's been ready to review since posting.