Post by Leo on Sept 2, 2014 16:34:41 GMT -5
“We rode on the winds of the rising storm,
We ran to the sounds of the thunder.
We danced among the lightning bolts,
and tore the world asunder.”
- Robert Jordan
- Robert Jordan
Name: Oren Zhavok
Race: Shistavanen
Age: 45
Height: 6' 1/2"
Weight: 203 lbs.
Appearance:
Calm eyes, they said he was born with. Brilliant pools of liquid bronze the draw the gaze of onlookers, soiled only by that splotch of darkness known as a pupil. The simple sheen of his iris is well accented by the dark fur that surrounds them. Dark shades of brown and black rippling outwards in waves, almost like stripes if they weren't so similar in pigment. The resulting effect is fur that seems to merely hues with the light, under the brightest sun he might seem to be colored as bark. Yet, under dim cantina lights, he might just seem a shadow, broken only by robes and those orbs of bronze. Handsome? At least by Shistavanen standards, Oren is a fine specimen of the species, noticeably so to female Shistavenens. With his strongly defined muzzle and stiking eyes, most don't even notice the scars and marks scattered about his muzzle from years of conflict.
A wall of muscle, Oren stands at not inconsequential six feet and a half inches. The training and work he's put into keeping himself at his physical peak is more than evident. His digitigrade stance is well complimented by supremely strong thigh and bone structure, well suited to jumping or powerful movement. Were his fur not covering the majority of body, only a thin layer of fat and skin would separate his muscle from the outside world. His claws are kept reasonably sharp, not so much as to be knives, but perfectly capable blunt, rending instruments, something that should easily give foes pause. Only a single large scar, along the back of his left forearm, is noticable through his fur. The dark skin bare and scar tissue remarkably lighter than that on his hands or feet. All other marks, though present beneath his fur, escape the gaze of most.
When it comes to clothing, Oren prefers to leave his robes sleeveless. His fur never seems to stay flat, or not rub against the simple fabrics. But, on formal occasions, and when the local culture requires it, he will don the necessary sleeves. Given choice between color, his inner robes are always a light tan, the rare outer robes a contrasting dark brown that tends to blend against some of the lighter fur on his arms; his utility belt tends to match the same color as his out robes, with the exception of subtle accents and bands that match the lighter tan. Finally, vfor his lightpike, when not held, could be attached to his back via a specifically crafted bandolier. This bandolier is tightly fitted to the body, and contains force activated mechanisms on the back that clamp down on the metal body, or release it only at the press of Oren's mind.
Personality:
At his core, there is a sense of almost childlike wonder about Oren. A certain infatuation with life that no amount of pain and suffering has been able to strip from him. The idea that through billions and billions of years, all this, the republic, the species, the Jedi, even exist is simply fascinates him. Still today, he looks up at the tall towers of the temple when he draws near, unable to contain his grin at the majesty of the sight. Still today, he fines himself at home amongst the sky-scraping flora of jungle planets, the barren and unending wastelands, the mysterious dark seas on planets foreign to his body. Still today, the chance of living to see one more day fills him with a great and ineffable sense of comfort and purpose. Deep in his being, he feels the call to travel and protect, to explore and serve the Force. On the same note, this has also lead Oren to be rather... Nosy, in a word. You'd think for a Jedi, all he might do is peer into the mind of another. Not Oren. No that'd make far too much bodily sense. Oren much prefers to see things first hand rather than from another source, a view free of the bias and filter of another's eyes. Whether the object of his curiosity is his to know about is certainly up for debate, and consequences of his "inquires" have ranged from strong scolding to blaster fire, though the former is quite nearly as interesting to him.
In Six: Curious, Headstrong, Protective, Creative, Audacious, and Self-Sacrificing
Birth place: Dacho District, Coruscant
Faction: Jedi
Rank: Jedi Master (Guardian / Weapon Master)
Lightsaber:
Lightsaber - Image Reference
Pike - Image Reference
His second lightsaber pike, the idea behind its look is simplicity. In combat, particularly with a long weapon, any sort of frills or articles which would endanger his grip could be fatal. So in kind, the entire weapon has a sort of slightly indented texture to it, not unlike a slightly less course weight bar. It's entire length is made up of a Phrik alloy [1], allowing the solid metal hilt to counter lightsabers just as effectively as the blade itself. The weapon does have a switch a little over half-way down from the angled emitter, a dull-red circle, inlaid slightly deeper in the hilt than the surrounding chrome hued metal. The weapon does bare some a few, slight score marks from constant use, but is very clearly kept in pristine condition by its master.
[1] - Cited Wookieepedia Page
Color:
Normal: Royal Blue
Pike: Sky Blue
Practiced Lightsaber forms:
Shii-Cho- 5
Soresu - 1
Ataru - 5
Shien / Djem So- 5
Lightsaber Pike - 5
Force-Sensitive Abilities or practices:
Telekinetic: 7
Telepathic: 5
Body: 8
Sense: 7
Protection: 3
Healing: 2
Destruction: 0
Specialized Skills:
Alter Damage (click)
Force Absorb (click)
Force Wave (click)
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 7
Intelligence: 6
Speed: 7
Leadership: 6
Unarmed: 5
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 0
Alignment: +6
Bio:
RP Sample:
Oren felt the groan of the starship as it careened through the skies. The atmosphere of the harsh world ripping and tearing at the dura-steel which separated its ferocity from the strike-team of Jedi. Oren's bronze iris's flicked over to his companions, all in various states of bracing themselves. Save for the Epicanthix Padawan, her face was placed firmly between her hands, skin ever so slightly reflecting a green hue.
