Post by Heart on Jul 15, 2015 13:38:47 GMT -5
Name: Rashvel Feljun / Previously "Darth Regulus"
Race: Half-Echani / Half-Mandalorian
Age: 39
Birthplace: Eshan
Allegiance: Himself / Money
Status: "Dark" Grey Jedi / Bounty Hunter
Rank: None / Former Dark Lord
Height/Weight: 7'6" / 352 lb's
Appearance: Unlike many Echani which were born lithe and swift, Rashvel was born with a build more reminiscent to his mother than his father. He stands at an incredibly large and intimidating height of over seven feet tall, even by some of the records of his species being massive- rivaling even some wookies in height. This immense height stemming from his father, however unlike his male ancestry whom were born lithe and agile he was born with the height of his father- and the bulk of his mother. The combination created what many would deem to be a monster, a mass of muscle and power.
Rashvel is holds the body of someone whom has dedicated hours of his day, every day, to his physical development. His body fat is near non-existent, and he is instead layered in muscle- from his neck and wide shoulders, broad chest and back, bicepts and more. His skin holds the marks of someone whom has suffered for such training as well, scar's cover his body and face, but none are overly notably beyond one which travels along his forehead and cheek from a missed slash at his eye. The other more notable scar being on his right hand, which is not only missing its fingernails but the skin is covered in thick slabs of scar tissue from intense torture.
His facial structure is what could be considered relatively 'strong' though he is nothing that would be considered incredibly handsome or good looking. His nose has a knot in it from constantly being broken, his shaggy appearance of his long white, wavy hair often stained red or brown from being dirty between hunts or training, even his jaw was just slightly off-kilter, only noticeable when he clenches his jaw; marking how many times it had been broken, popped out of joint, and so forth. His most notable features however is that past these old wounds that have long healed, is he was at one point a relatively good looking man, his striking silver eyes now bright yellow from the dark side with an animal like vertical pupil.
His scar's that cover his face along with his shaggy appearance often ward many away from him, his gruff voice like gravel on steel- a sign that the scar's that cover his throat from failed attempts on his life were not completely useless as they have damaged his vocal cords. Still he seems to not require mechanical assistance to speak just yet, and has somehow retained full usage of his body- as he does not limp, nor seem to have any physical limitations from the damage his body has endured over his years. His teeth when examined are surprisingly in-tact as well, though a few are obviously artificial- it is worth noting that he has twelve canines instead of the usual four thanks to these artificial teeth.
Personality: In a single non-offensive term one would describe Rashvel as a jerk. In less polite company far worse words would in all likelihood be used to describe the man however. Never having been a very personable person, Rashvel is an introvert- preferring the company of none; but a few chosen whom he may find worth his time. He has one singular drive- to gain power, his desire for power, skill, knowledge, ability is all that matters to him. Even if it means the death of allies, friends, innocents, children, if in the end he will come out ahead then it is good enough for him. This does not mean that he does not feel guilt for the deaths of innocents, but it means that he has grown used to it- and no longer does he even flinch at the idea.
He has become an animal; believing in one core belief- "No matter what may change in the universe, laws, government, generations- in the end the strong survive, and the weak are used until they are killed by the strong; and devoured." This core belief is what has driven him to go to such extents, to constantly train, to constantly kill and fight- to claw his way to the top. Backstabbing, fighting on the field, poisoning, it did not matter what he needed to do to get to the top, all that mattered was getting there. This idea is still at his core, however it does not mean he is simply some beast that would kill no matter what to get what he wants, or needs- no individual is ever so simple even if they wish you to believe it.
Suffering from Insomnia, he says this is a medical condition he was born with but it was not so- for the guilt he feels over his actions is always there, chained away in the back of his mind. The blood on his hands, the mountain of bodies he stood upon, the dead eyes of children, animals, civilians, jedi, and sith alike- it did not matter on his treck to power. This is the truest form of his pain, and it comes with the truth of his insecurities- why he was so obsessed with being strong, why he needed money, power, knowledge, everything- because in truth he has no self confidence. It is never enough, because no matter how much he grows and develops he cannot find satisfaction, confidence, hope, love, anything- and no matter how hard he tries he cannot understand why he never can find it.
In general he is a rather grumpy, slightly arrogant- and yet wise older man whom has obviously seen far more than someone his age ever should have. His knowledge of tactics, and survival especially are immense- having survived being "nearly killed" hundreds of times over- partially good luck, and partially his survival instincts that stem from him being nearly more animal that man. He is often someone whom will rarely communicate vocally unless he simply must- instead preferring action. It is worth noting that the man has an immense addiction to alcohol, however he is especially careful to never get intoxicated and properly prepares to avoid any form of dehydration no matter how much he may wish to "let go and enjoy".
Ships/Vehicles:
Equipment:
Stats:
Strength - Legendary
Agility - Above Average
Intelligence - Above Average
Charisma - Feeble
Force Stats:
Telekinetic - Novice
Telepathic - Master
Body - Novice
Sense - Novice
Protection - Novice
Healing – Unskilled
Destruction – Novice
Combat Training:
Martial Arts - Master
>>Sub-form Echani - Specialized
Single-Handed Melee - Master
Duel-Wield Melee - Master
Double-Tipped Melee - Novice
Blaster Rifle - Apprentice
Blaster Pistol - Novice
Exotic Blasters - Unskilled
Force Training:
Force Rage - Expert
Battlemind - Master
Force Weapon - Master
Force Body - Expert
Other Training:
Hunting/Tracking - Expert
Piloting - Adept
Engineering - Apprentice
Poisons/Venoms - Master
Stealth - Master
Torturing - Master
Lightsaber Training:
Shii-Cho - Master
Makashi - Master
Soresu - Expert
Ataru - Expert
Shien/Djem So - Master
>>Sub-form Backhanded - Expert
Niman - Master
>>Sub-form Jar-kai - Expert
Juyo - Expert
Jar'Kai - Specialized
Double Bladed Combat - Novice
Biography: WIP
Roleplay Sample: Shadows dipped through the tree's of the deep forest, normally he would have no chance in the forest- this was his target's home. She had the advantage, she knew these paths, every branch, every vine- those mad claws of her's were specialized to this environment. She would be able to traverse these trees without any trouble and get a tactical advantage; normally this would be an issue. However, this was not a normal situation- for her hunter was not some mere man with gun and blade, no- Rashvel had heard of the Wookies and their supposed "incredible strength" that they boasted.
How could he resist the idea of hunting down such a beast that had a bounty on her head- a "madclaw" or some such; that was so near to him at the time? A test. A way to prove he was stronger than even this "inhuman" species. Slowly his lips curled as the multiple canines seemed to glint in the light, the tight fibers of silk of his shadowsuit, the glow of his yellow eyes were hidden behind the pitch black infared goggles that examined the entire area- his keen senses keeping careful track of every sound. The forest was dead silent, for the animals and life knew when two deadly predators were near- even if they had no interest in such "normal" prey.
Time passed slowly, each click of branch- or sound of the wind through the leaves- the patience of two hunters were tested. Until finally, after nearly an hour of waiting there was a bellow as the large female dropped from above, his eyes narrowed behind the goggles. How had she noticed him? He had bathed in the water of this forest before he began this hunt, he should smell of mud and her territory so it couldn't be scent. However; there would be time to consider this later, for seven feet of angry, predatory muscle was flying toward him from above. Normal people would of leap off the branch and dodged to avoid.
But once more, Rashvel was not normal- he had wrestled with creatures larger than this furball bare handed and won. Instead he spun and braced, and the beasts eyes wavered- never had something that was not her own kind stood its ground against the fury of a wookie; was it stupid? Or was there something more hidden within the black-suit? She quickly had her answer as her massive fists slammed forward in an attempt to crush the man beneath her; only to find the thing had not only caught her wrists- but had withstood the impact without flinching. Confused read through her mind as she tried to rip her arms back, to find their strength was evenly matched, no matter how she strained his own muscles bulged and held her in check.
The large branch shook under their power struggle, her claws digging into the wood and fur covering the branch- as his boots laced with metal grips dug into the wood as well. Finally, after several moments- she grew tired of the struggle, and her anger began to grow- snarling she lashed out with a foot; but her lack of training was evident. Immediately Rashvel felt disappointment, this power that he had heard bragging about was nothing more then mad power. She had left her footing to try and kick him, all he had to do was shift his weight, sliding to the side and use her own momentum against her.
His arm released one of her wrists, grabbing the other at the elbow, and yanking backwards as she went forward- the sound of her arm snapping filled the air, along with her bellow of agony as his eyes narrowed and without missing a beat his hand glowed with the force. Slamming down on the beasts head as his pupils dilated; "You are beneath me .." His gravely voice stated, before the force fluctuated within his hands, and he squeezed. The combination of his own immense power, the size of his hand, and the force caused the wookies skull to crack under the pressure- her scream of agony was short lived, as the final crunch filled the air. He slowly released her, watching her collapse to the ground with a sickening thud.
".. I suppose I shall collect my money, beast." He stated coldly to himself.
Race: Half-Echani / Half-Mandalorian
Age: 39
Birthplace: Eshan
Allegiance: Himself / Money
Status: "Dark" Grey Jedi / Bounty Hunter
Rank: None / Former Dark Lord
Height/Weight: 7'6" / 352 lb's
Appearance: Unlike many Echani which were born lithe and swift, Rashvel was born with a build more reminiscent to his mother than his father. He stands at an incredibly large and intimidating height of over seven feet tall, even by some of the records of his species being massive- rivaling even some wookies in height. This immense height stemming from his father, however unlike his male ancestry whom were born lithe and agile he was born with the height of his father- and the bulk of his mother. The combination created what many would deem to be a monster, a mass of muscle and power.
Rashvel is holds the body of someone whom has dedicated hours of his day, every day, to his physical development. His body fat is near non-existent, and he is instead layered in muscle- from his neck and wide shoulders, broad chest and back, bicepts and more. His skin holds the marks of someone whom has suffered for such training as well, scar's cover his body and face, but none are overly notably beyond one which travels along his forehead and cheek from a missed slash at his eye. The other more notable scar being on his right hand, which is not only missing its fingernails but the skin is covered in thick slabs of scar tissue from intense torture.
His facial structure is what could be considered relatively 'strong' though he is nothing that would be considered incredibly handsome or good looking. His nose has a knot in it from constantly being broken, his shaggy appearance of his long white, wavy hair often stained red or brown from being dirty between hunts or training, even his jaw was just slightly off-kilter, only noticeable when he clenches his jaw; marking how many times it had been broken, popped out of joint, and so forth. His most notable features however is that past these old wounds that have long healed, is he was at one point a relatively good looking man, his striking silver eyes now bright yellow from the dark side with an animal like vertical pupil.
His scar's that cover his face along with his shaggy appearance often ward many away from him, his gruff voice like gravel on steel- a sign that the scar's that cover his throat from failed attempts on his life were not completely useless as they have damaged his vocal cords. Still he seems to not require mechanical assistance to speak just yet, and has somehow retained full usage of his body- as he does not limp, nor seem to have any physical limitations from the damage his body has endured over his years. His teeth when examined are surprisingly in-tact as well, though a few are obviously artificial- it is worth noting that he has twelve canines instead of the usual four thanks to these artificial teeth.
Personality: In a single non-offensive term one would describe Rashvel as a jerk. In less polite company far worse words would in all likelihood be used to describe the man however. Never having been a very personable person, Rashvel is an introvert- preferring the company of none; but a few chosen whom he may find worth his time. He has one singular drive- to gain power, his desire for power, skill, knowledge, ability is all that matters to him. Even if it means the death of allies, friends, innocents, children, if in the end he will come out ahead then it is good enough for him. This does not mean that he does not feel guilt for the deaths of innocents, but it means that he has grown used to it- and no longer does he even flinch at the idea.
He has become an animal; believing in one core belief- "No matter what may change in the universe, laws, government, generations- in the end the strong survive, and the weak are used until they are killed by the strong; and devoured." This core belief is what has driven him to go to such extents, to constantly train, to constantly kill and fight- to claw his way to the top. Backstabbing, fighting on the field, poisoning, it did not matter what he needed to do to get to the top, all that mattered was getting there. This idea is still at his core, however it does not mean he is simply some beast that would kill no matter what to get what he wants, or needs- no individual is ever so simple even if they wish you to believe it.
Suffering from Insomnia, he says this is a medical condition he was born with but it was not so- for the guilt he feels over his actions is always there, chained away in the back of his mind. The blood on his hands, the mountain of bodies he stood upon, the dead eyes of children, animals, civilians, jedi, and sith alike- it did not matter on his treck to power. This is the truest form of his pain, and it comes with the truth of his insecurities- why he was so obsessed with being strong, why he needed money, power, knowledge, everything- because in truth he has no self confidence. It is never enough, because no matter how much he grows and develops he cannot find satisfaction, confidence, hope, love, anything- and no matter how hard he tries he cannot understand why he never can find it.
In general he is a rather grumpy, slightly arrogant- and yet wise older man whom has obviously seen far more than someone his age ever should have. His knowledge of tactics, and survival especially are immense- having survived being "nearly killed" hundreds of times over- partially good luck, and partially his survival instincts that stem from him being nearly more animal that man. He is often someone whom will rarely communicate vocally unless he simply must- instead preferring action. It is worth noting that the man has an immense addiction to alcohol, however he is especially careful to never get intoxicated and properly prepares to avoid any form of dehydration no matter how much he may wish to "let go and enjoy".
Ships/Vehicles:
- Official Name: Fenris
Faction/Affiliation: Rashvel Feljun
Classification: Custom Light Freighter
Stock/Custom: 1
Dimensions-
Height: 20 m
Width: 30 m
Length: 35 m
Manufacturer: Sith Empire
Energy Source: Fusion Reactor
Hyper drive rating: 3
Crew Necessity: 1 Pilot, 1 Co-Pilot, 1 Engineer, and 3 Gunners. (Skeleton Crew is 1 Pilot.)
Armament: Duel Medium Laser Turret (one on each Wing), Dual Heavy Quad Laser Turret Cannon (under cockpit), and a Swivel-Head Potron Torpedo Launcher [Amo: 2] (underbelly).
Passenger Capacity: 10
Cargo Capacity: 60 Tons
Consumables: 3 Months Worth
Hanger Facilities/Starfighter Capacity: Room for a Single Small Vehicle or Single-Man Fighter. Currently Empty.
Other: Navigation Computer with Droid Interface, Smuggling Components, Communication's Interface (With Communications Taper Equipment), Built In Bar, Landing Gear, Sensory Array, Docking Claws, Power Shields, and Solar Panels.
Statistics-
Speed: 10
Maneuverability: 5
Effectiveness vs. Starfighters: 10
Effectiveness vs. Capital Ships: 3
Armor: 10
Shielding: 3
Sensors: 10
Reliability: 10
Description/role: The "Fenris" was originally designed by the Sith Empire at Rashvel's expense as a Darth, as a personal ship for his hunts to maintain his own personal health and safety as well as provide him with the equipment he needed to locate, chase down, and end his prey. The ship is built specifically for taking out other fighters and freighters by sensing them despite any cloaking, hunting them down, catching them with ease with a state of the art hyperdrive and incredible speed and maneuverability and ending them before a long-standing fight was initiated when the ships weak shields and armor would become a weakness. The ship is pure black, sleek and in the shape of an akward wolf's paw- with the X-Darth's symbol of a pair of bloody wolf fangs painted onto the left wing of the ship, the ships name in white lettering written out underneath it.
Equipment:
- Official Name: Shadowsuit
Faction/Affiliation: Rashvel Feljun
Weight: 45 kg
Manufacturer: Sith Empire
Stock/Custom: 1
Classification: Stealth/Environment Survival
Rating: X
Composition: The A shadowsuit was the custom requested and built stealth combat suit for "Darth Regulus" whom then disappeared. The armor thanks to the resources of a Dark Lord was able to have it custom fit, and designed for only his use- the combat suit is made from highly dense metals and fibers to be nearly impervious to normal damage; skin tight to allow free movement.
Other: An internal system that allows a filter for breathing in normal environments to avoid poisons, toxins and so forth, insulation against pressure, cold, heat- allowing for a limited time to be move freely in open space if the suit has not been punctured or damaged to hinder such. Oxygen stored in the suit can last in space for a maximum of two hours; it is for emergency usage only.
Description: Click here for Image. - Official Weapon Name: Darkedge
Faction/Affiliation: Sith Empire
Classification: Sword
Stock/Custom: 2
Manufacturer: Sith Empire
Dimensions: 584 mm x 76 mm x 76 mm
Length: 584 mm
Weapon weight: 2 kg
Magazine / Power Cell Capacity: N/A
RPM: N/A
Effective Range: Melee
Projectile: N/A
Caliber: N/A
Other: N/A
Description: Click here for Image.
Stats:
Strength - Legendary
Agility - Above Average
Intelligence - Above Average
Charisma - Feeble
Force Stats:
Telekinetic - Novice
Telepathic - Master
Body - Novice
Sense - Novice
Protection - Novice
Healing – Unskilled
Destruction – Novice
Combat Training:
Martial Arts - Master
>>Sub-form Echani - Specialized
Single-Handed Melee - Master
Duel-Wield Melee - Master
Double-Tipped Melee - Novice
Blaster Rifle - Apprentice
Blaster Pistol - Novice
Exotic Blasters - Unskilled
Force Training:
Force Rage - Expert
Battlemind - Master
Force Weapon - Master
Force Body - Expert
Other Training:
Hunting/Tracking - Expert
Piloting - Adept
Engineering - Apprentice
Poisons/Venoms - Master
Stealth - Master
Torturing - Master
Lightsaber Training:
Shii-Cho - Master
Makashi - Master
Soresu - Expert
Ataru - Expert
Shien/Djem So - Master
>>Sub-form Backhanded - Expert
Niman - Master
>>Sub-form Jar-kai - Expert
Juyo - Expert
Jar'Kai - Specialized
Double Bladed Combat - Novice
Biography: WIP
Roleplay Sample: Shadows dipped through the tree's of the deep forest, normally he would have no chance in the forest- this was his target's home. She had the advantage, she knew these paths, every branch, every vine- those mad claws of her's were specialized to this environment. She would be able to traverse these trees without any trouble and get a tactical advantage; normally this would be an issue. However, this was not a normal situation- for her hunter was not some mere man with gun and blade, no- Rashvel had heard of the Wookies and their supposed "incredible strength" that they boasted.
How could he resist the idea of hunting down such a beast that had a bounty on her head- a "madclaw" or some such; that was so near to him at the time? A test. A way to prove he was stronger than even this "inhuman" species. Slowly his lips curled as the multiple canines seemed to glint in the light, the tight fibers of silk of his shadowsuit, the glow of his yellow eyes were hidden behind the pitch black infared goggles that examined the entire area- his keen senses keeping careful track of every sound. The forest was dead silent, for the animals and life knew when two deadly predators were near- even if they had no interest in such "normal" prey.
Time passed slowly, each click of branch- or sound of the wind through the leaves- the patience of two hunters were tested. Until finally, after nearly an hour of waiting there was a bellow as the large female dropped from above, his eyes narrowed behind the goggles. How had she noticed him? He had bathed in the water of this forest before he began this hunt, he should smell of mud and her territory so it couldn't be scent. However; there would be time to consider this later, for seven feet of angry, predatory muscle was flying toward him from above. Normal people would of leap off the branch and dodged to avoid.
But once more, Rashvel was not normal- he had wrestled with creatures larger than this furball bare handed and won. Instead he spun and braced, and the beasts eyes wavered- never had something that was not her own kind stood its ground against the fury of a wookie; was it stupid? Or was there something more hidden within the black-suit? She quickly had her answer as her massive fists slammed forward in an attempt to crush the man beneath her; only to find the thing had not only caught her wrists- but had withstood the impact without flinching. Confused read through her mind as she tried to rip her arms back, to find their strength was evenly matched, no matter how she strained his own muscles bulged and held her in check.
The large branch shook under their power struggle, her claws digging into the wood and fur covering the branch- as his boots laced with metal grips dug into the wood as well. Finally, after several moments- she grew tired of the struggle, and her anger began to grow- snarling she lashed out with a foot; but her lack of training was evident. Immediately Rashvel felt disappointment, this power that he had heard bragging about was nothing more then mad power. She had left her footing to try and kick him, all he had to do was shift his weight, sliding to the side and use her own momentum against her.
His arm released one of her wrists, grabbing the other at the elbow, and yanking backwards as she went forward- the sound of her arm snapping filled the air, along with her bellow of agony as his eyes narrowed and without missing a beat his hand glowed with the force. Slamming down on the beasts head as his pupils dilated; "You are beneath me .." His gravely voice stated, before the force fluctuated within his hands, and he squeezed. The combination of his own immense power, the size of his hand, and the force caused the wookies skull to crack under the pressure- her scream of agony was short lived, as the final crunch filled the air. He slowly released her, watching her collapse to the ground with a sickening thud.
".. I suppose I shall collect my money, beast." He stated coldly to himself.
