Post by Squee on Aug 2, 2013 21:51:32 GMT -5
Oh the river, oh the river, it’s running free.
And oh the joy, oh the joy it brings to me.
But I know it’ll have to drown me,
Before it can breathe easy.
And I’ve seen it in the flights of birds,
I’ve seen it in you.
In the entrails of the animals,
Their blood running through.
~ Heartlines ~ Florence and the Machines ~
And oh the joy, oh the joy it brings to me.
But I know it’ll have to drown me,
Before it can breathe easy.
And I’ve seen it in the flights of birds,
I’ve seen it in you.
In the entrails of the animals,
Their blood running through.
~ Heartlines ~ Florence and the Machines ~
Faction: Mandalorian
Department: Special Operations
Rank:
Name: Makila Harag
Race: Wroonian
Age: 35
Height: 5’5’’
Weight:
Birth place: Beach vacation home, Wroona
Appearance:
Though short in stature, in comparison to humans, Makila stands taller than the average wroonian. The man has excellent control of his presence, exuding confidence, coolness, and grace, and strides as if he’s seven feet tall. He stands approachable, however, as a man visibly at rest and comfortable in his skin. While obviously a muscular man sporting a nearly textbook body, Makila does not appear gruff, bulky, or clunky, but rather smooth and tenderly shaped. Muscular, yes, hard and rigid, no. The wroonian is more sleek and soft of step, in and out of armor.
Generally, he can be seen with a pleasant expression upon his blue face, with the slight slant of a closed-mouth smile and thick eyebrows angled upward as if everything is of interest to him. Makila is clean-shaven, the features of his blue face smooth as his gentle jaw-line and chin. The hardest part of his face is his eyes, which, besides their shape, are a harsh yellow color. However, the man’s full smile of nearly perfect teeth can be enough to drain the acidity from his gaze. Long, black hair usually has clasp beads of different color, though predominantly several shades of red, and either naturally red feathers or feathers spiked with dried blood.
While Makila has some scars to note, the most significant are the ones across the palm of his hand and over his arms. The ones on his arms are older, several years old, from when he first joined his cult. However, his right palm is criss-crossed with scars, healed, and signs of being reopened with sensitive scar tissue.
The base color of his Mandalorian armor is white – a pure color. While dented, Makila is meticulous in removing scuffs and burns from his armor after every battle. The only other color on his armor is red, varied in shades of bright scarlet to deep maroon. It doesn’t run in lines or in a pattern, but splashed randomly. Splattered in streaks, spotted with drops, drizzling from the shoulders…
With him, Makila carries two swords, designed in such a way so liquid can be flicked off and doesn’t interfere with his grip. Daggers are a usual presence on his hip, though the constant one has a red-leathered handle and beaded strings attached to it.
His civilian wear tends to include luxurious fabrics, a desire from his upbringing that he couldn’t shake. Feathers and ornate beadwork can also clutter is appearance, hanging off his clothing or in the form of cuffs around his wrists. Occasionally he uses this type of wear to hide his arms or his hands, to avoid uneasy questions that are often difficult to explain to those who simply do not understand.
Personality:
To his friends and fellow Mandalorians, they’ll find Makila to be quite personable. With liquid yellow eyes and a ready smile, the wroonian is friendly and open for a good story. However, most might find their stories overtaken by the boastful ones Makila has a tendency to tell about his own achievements. And don’t get him drunk: the man can ramble. Also, drunk or not, the wroonian has no concept of personal space, comfortable with touching, tapping, and leaning on his fellows.
Makila is gifted with speech. A Mandalorian with a silver tongue. The wroonian is very good with words, a product of his background and rearing. Makila has a tendency of being less crude, but no less choosey about his words than the common man unless the situation calls for diplomacy.
Others may also note Makila’s spirituality, particularly centered on blood. It mingles with his sense of honor and glory. There is no glory without the shedding of blood, and a person is not honorable without both shedding the blood of their enemies as well as their own blood being spilled. A fight is a good fight if one wins. A fight is excellent if both parties are bleeding. He has a habit of repeating mantras in a fight, or anointing ship and/or his armor with blood before departure and/or battle.
While his cult believes there is a goddess watching the galaxy, Makila doesn’t necessarily have faith in her as some of his cultist peers do. Instead, he focuses on the life of blood, treating it with an odd sort of respect. He really does love it, and he loves to see and spill it. In a duel, his more sadistic side shows. He’ll toy with his opponent and cut to shed as much blood as he possibly can. His opponent’s meet a crippling end, with Makila leaving them to bleed out, though he tries to ensure they’ll bleed swiftly. Dying from a lack of blood is the most honorable way to die, and the way Makila hopes to pass from this world.
Battle is perhaps the only time Makila is unfriendly. With a chilly exterior and a conqueror’s gleam in his yellow eyes, he takes it very seriously. However, he is prone to making choices other than what he is commanded to do. Given an objective, he is quite stubborn in completing the goal, especially if he has given a promise or a vow.
If one enters wants to enter a commitment with Makila, the wroonian is quick to let his would-be partner understand exactly what that means. A promise is the highest form of dedication Makila can give: he seals his pact with blood. If he is the only one making a promise, then only he is responsible if he fails. If someone makes a promise to him, one would be wise to keep his/her promise to Makila, or else he is coming for blood in compensation.
Skills:
Master swordsman; dual and single
Fluent in Basic, Wroonian, and Mando’a
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 7
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 7
Leadership: 6
Unarmed: 5
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 5
Bio:
"My old name plays no part. It was washed in blood and reborn ‘Makila’."
He wasn't supposed to be due for another four weeks. That's why the Sesut family went on vacation: a father, a heavily pregnant mother, and a son five years of age. Just a little vacation on their house by the beach, to fill the lungs with salty sea air, and for Makila's father to take refreshment from the politics in Wroona's capital before his new baby boy was born. They would only be there a week, and then they would return home where all the hospitals were.
It was a good thing their family doctor insisted they take their midwife with them on the trip. About halfway through the short vacation, Makila's mother went in labor. A few hours shy of a full day later, Makila (though by a different name) was born. The midwife determined there was no immediate problems to the premature baby's health, though the baby was kept a close eye on for breathing complications. The vacation time was extended in order to give Mommy and baby ample rest, and to keep Daddy away from the office a while more yet.
Returning to the city, Makila was given a thorough check up. He had no lung concerns, though it was noted the newborn had a heart murmur. Otherwise, he was a healthy baby.
He grew under the guidance of tradition and duty, but also under wealth. Makila was looked after by caretakers and nurses, and played with said caretakers and sometimes his older brother. Faero's time with his little brother was split between private tutors and their father. Coming from noble birth and grounded in traditions, it was the expectation that Faero would take father's mantle and duties when he was old enough.
For a couple of years, while he could, Faero made the effort to play hide and seek, good guys versus bad guys, and prank his three, four, five year old younger brother. When Makila turned five, however, he got his own private tutors to start his lessons in mathematics, writing, history, and science. As his brother before him, Makila was terrible at getting his work done. Eventually, the young boy was seated and forced to do his work under a timer to improve his efficiency.
Jedi versus Sith games vanished and instead turned into recitations of such periods of time in history and the impact it had on the galaxy. What happened when Wroona came under the Galatic Republic, and basic hierarchies of government, and Wroona's personal history. Makila still had an awful habit of not focusing on his lessons and developed a disrespect for authority and discipline, often throwing fits at tutors and teachers. At nine, Makila was placed under a professional martial artist to improve his attitude and put strict regulations on his behavior.
By the time Makila was twelve, he understood his place within the Sesut family was to uphold tradition and bring their family's name honor. He would be able to do so by joining Wroona's navy. Seeing nothing but glory by being in the military, the twelve year old boy tried to tease his brother that he got to do the fun stuff. The tease fell short on seventeen, serious Faero who spent all his time on politics and government and debate.
History took a turn toward analyzing battles and why they had been so significant. Makila learned to idolize specific individuals who'd impacted the planet of Wroona and the galaxy the most. While he continued efforts as a martial artist, it was thought the boy needed more weapons training. Interviews and auditions were held to determine who would be Makila's tutor in swordsmanship, though this time Makila had some say-so in his tutor.
RP Sample:
