Post by vass Prong on Oct 27, 2015 16:35:49 GMT -5
Name:Vass Prong
Race:Besalisk
Age:32
Birthplace:Ojom
Allegiance:Self
Status:Various, though currently a freighter owner
Rank: Captain
Height/Weight: 6’2” /240 lbs
Appearance: Of a regular build for a Besalisk. Vass has the trademark scaley, darkbrown forehead, but instead of the normal beige skin underneath it, he grows a bushy stubble flowing over into a beard and the 'normal' walrus moustache. Though his size and eyebrows can be found intimidating or grumpy looking, he usually wears a friendly expression, smiling away or talking and laughing with a bouldiring voice. A voice that has somewhat of an edge through years of cigar smoking. Unlike stereotypes demand his girth is no sign of physical neglection. The percieved 'Fatness' is mostly due to the species very cold home planet of Ojom, where a good insulating layer can mean the difference between life and death.
Vass Prong seems grown into a 4-holed wife-beater shirt that used to be white. It is set with a number of pockets over the front out of which rags, cigars and an array of other stuff might protrude. Under it he has a similarly pocketed blue set of working pants. Over it all he wears a long, brown leather trenchcoat for the covert storage of a few more items in its numerous inner pockets. Oddly enough the trenchcoat only has 2 sleeves through which Vass has his upper arms. Rendering the bottom arms either 'hidden' (though it gives him a bit of an odd shape), or the coat being pulled back behind the lower arms. The coat sleeves are neigh always rolled up to bare his forearms.
On his belt he has a set of heavy blasters, one for each hip.
Under his coat, at the backside of his belt he has a stun batton, nigh always hidden, but retrievable fast.
Personality:Like most Besalisks Vass Prong is prone to trust his fellow sentients. He is often friendly, outgoing and looking for new experiences. He can be considered rude for he has a tendency to cut conversations that bore him short. That combined with the Besalisk attention span is a bad mix, but prolonged exposure to other cultures have thought him other ways of keeping busy: fidgetting, huming, drumming fingers or simply resorting to deep phylosophical contemplations in the own mind. He thrives in 'tense' situations, though he would more likely label them as exciting. This also is one of his bigger flaws, as he has a tendency to chose for the more dangerous options. That being said, he is not one that brags about his exploits, and can be considered quite modest. On the other hand he is also loose lipped when asked the right questions or when rubbed the right way. He quickly forms friendships and that is both an advantage and a disadvantage. Vass will usually expect the best in peoples, rendering him to be hard to insult or irritate subtly (if you want him to notice). Doing so overtly however will result in quite the ire, for he has little patience for acts of pure malice.
Ships/Vehicles: A D-5 Mantis called "three-arms'.
Equipment:
-A set (2) of heavy blaster pistols with filed away trigger guard to accomodate his large fingers.
-A stun baton.
-A datapad
-A comm-link
-Various pieces of engineering equipment, varying from being on his person or being littered around the engineering bay of the D2. (usually has a wrench in a pocket, same goes for a hydrospanner).
-Cigars, of the thick variant.
-A gazillion packages of matches in various states of fullness (or emptyness if you are a pessimist).
-A pocket knife.
-Chance Cubes
-A canteen of whatever strong liquor was at hand in the last port.
Stats: (Feeble, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Superior, Legendary)
Strength – Above Average
Agility - Average
Intelligence - Average
Charisma – Average
Combat Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Adept with blasters, both pistols and rifles
Apprentice brawler, though 4 arms gives him an edge sometimes.
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
An Expert Technician.
Adept Pilot.
Apprentice Slicer.
Biography:
Growing up on the icy planet of Ojom, Vass had a cold, but happy childhood. Born to Pom Prong and Karalam Prong-Sojol and raised in one of the more densely populated conclaves (one with heating!). His parents weren't wealthy but were able to provide. His father worked in a mineral mine and his mother worked at spaceport reception, Vass always liked going with his parents to work, especially all the races and cultures at his mothers work intrigued him. He was groomed to become a technician like his uncle Dalaam on one of the space many space stations orbiting the planet (the only way outsiders could be anything near comfortable 'on' the planet, due to the cold). It was a job in which some good money could be made and his parents had always saved up for his education. So Vass did his best, he genuinly enjoyed engineering and though not a prodigy, he was getting good grades.
And so, after his teens he went to work with the same employer as Dalaam. He was a content employee for the while repairing spaceships, cargo droids and other freighting infrastructure systems. He started to get independent, his own home, his own money and soon the first trip to one of the nearby systems followed. It was a time marked by the pleasures of working life, pazaak games with friends, bar brawls, hunting trips in the ice wastes of Ojom and the like. It all couldn't help that Vass soon got bored of the repetitiveness of the job (A Besalisk racial trait). Though he had visited some places of the galaxy on hollidays or working trips, at age 24 Vass decided to go work on one of the freighters that frequented his station. Hauling cargo for a peaceful and law abiding company that delivered the materials for heating devices.
Working an alround job as a technician/engineer and also pulling his weight on the unloading of the ship was some variation. But it only kept his interest for a good 3 years. Thus it was that at age 27 Vass said his farewells to the crew and sought a more ‘exotic’ freighting job. Making use of the infrastructure he got knowledge of as a lawfull freighter crewmember, and his numerous bar visits in those spaceports. He found a less than peaceful and law abiding captain, called Halon Darun (a Dug) who made a few extra credits by adding a few goods to his cargo here and there. Vass had heard his crew of "the Baron" boasting a few times over drinks in several of the spaceports they all frequented and when one of the boasts included a crew death he figured he might fill the spot. Captain Darun was sceptical at first, seeing as the rest of his crew were on the rough side, but he gave Vass the benefit of the doubt, seeing that he was in need of a good engineer. Vass got to see the more and more of the galaxy under this captain but this did not go without a few… ‘situations’ here and there.
Ranging from bar brawls, buyer shoutouts and spaceworm escapes Vass was getting a taste of the life he was looking for, and living to tell the tale aswell! due to it Vass Turned out to be an increasingly better shot and a capable brawler. Above all, he liked both, and so he nourished the skills over the years.
This time it was not Vass who wanted a new job but the sudden end to his employers live that prompted Vass into action. A deal on Kalee went sour. A weapon shipment, usually something they wouldnt take, but the payout promised to be quite handsome. What they didn't know was that the Kaleesh intended to pay in slaves. Captain Darun would not have it and negotiations turned into a brutal shootout in the cargo bay. The first casualty was Darun, a second and third were made under the crew of the Baron. Vass and the remaining 3 crewmembers managed to retreat towards the ship under the cover of the ships cannons. They had to fly off with a half-unloaded cargo, half a crew and no captain. The captain was the adhesive and so bickering and blame became a wedge driving the remaining crew apart. The whole deal still bitters him, but a fresh start was made. With the credits saved up Vass bought a freighter of his own to roam the galaxy with, finding cargo, thrills and food wherever he goes.
Roleplay Sample:
Vass’s four hands where in motion constantly. Two worked the navi-computer while a third was holding the freigthers wheel. The fourth was just relieving Vass from a terrible itch on his lower back as the ash of the cigar protruding from his mouth was calling to be disposed, giving rise to the thought that one can just not have enough hands.
“Come on shields, you can make it.”
Vass mutters to himself as he makes a barrel roll in the hope of evading the pursuing laser cannons. The sentence making the ash of his cigar drop on his smudged white wife-beater. A few manoeuvres gets him clear for a moment, relieving him of one alarm in the orchestra of beeps and sirens. A sudden dive follows as his two right hands move away from the navi-computer and one taps off his cigar in a small ashtray on the freighters dashboard. The other runs a small diagnostic on the ship’s systems console.
“You got to be kidding me, already overheating!?”
A few additional taps reroutes some cooling fluids to the rear deflector shields as the itch is finally gone. A small moment for a reflective fuzzing of the hairs as his lower left arm takes over from his upper left arm on the controls to do so.
“I sure hope the carg- Centoo! Check if the cargo is still OK, should be getting the clear on that jump soon!”
The distinct beeps of Binary can be heard from the hold. But are flushed out by the sound of another volley of bolts hitting the ship, and another alarm adding to the symphony.
“rear deflectors gone? Already?”
A few forcefull smashes on the system console does not chance the flickering red representation of his rear deflectors. Vass puts two hands to the wheel now, pulling it up hard for a choreograph movement into the pursuing fighters. Lasers pepper his front deflectors but they can take it. For now.
“GO PLOUGH A BANTHA!”
A collision is averted as he brings the ship on its side and goes between the two, a few alarms stop ringing. But one starts. Precisely the one Vass was waiting for.
“Centoo, Were leaving!”
A hackled laugh follows a wavering ‘beep’ as one of his free lower hands pulls the hyperspace lever and the stars turn into white stripes before his eyes. He slouches in his chair, a mere adjustment of an inch, but still, relaxing. Two hands go behind his head, a third to his cigar, as the fourth tries to reactivate the rear deflector shields.
“I really need to find myself a gunner…”
Race:Besalisk
Age:32
Birthplace:Ojom
Allegiance:Self
Status:Various, though currently a freighter owner
Rank: Captain
Height/Weight: 6’2” /240 lbs
Appearance: Of a regular build for a Besalisk. Vass has the trademark scaley, darkbrown forehead, but instead of the normal beige skin underneath it, he grows a bushy stubble flowing over into a beard and the 'normal' walrus moustache. Though his size and eyebrows can be found intimidating or grumpy looking, he usually wears a friendly expression, smiling away or talking and laughing with a bouldiring voice. A voice that has somewhat of an edge through years of cigar smoking. Unlike stereotypes demand his girth is no sign of physical neglection. The percieved 'Fatness' is mostly due to the species very cold home planet of Ojom, where a good insulating layer can mean the difference between life and death.
Vass Prong seems grown into a 4-holed wife-beater shirt that used to be white. It is set with a number of pockets over the front out of which rags, cigars and an array of other stuff might protrude. Under it he has a similarly pocketed blue set of working pants. Over it all he wears a long, brown leather trenchcoat for the covert storage of a few more items in its numerous inner pockets. Oddly enough the trenchcoat only has 2 sleeves through which Vass has his upper arms. Rendering the bottom arms either 'hidden' (though it gives him a bit of an odd shape), or the coat being pulled back behind the lower arms. The coat sleeves are neigh always rolled up to bare his forearms.
On his belt he has a set of heavy blasters, one for each hip.
Under his coat, at the backside of his belt he has a stun batton, nigh always hidden, but retrievable fast.
Personality:Like most Besalisks Vass Prong is prone to trust his fellow sentients. He is often friendly, outgoing and looking for new experiences. He can be considered rude for he has a tendency to cut conversations that bore him short. That combined with the Besalisk attention span is a bad mix, but prolonged exposure to other cultures have thought him other ways of keeping busy: fidgetting, huming, drumming fingers or simply resorting to deep phylosophical contemplations in the own mind. He thrives in 'tense' situations, though he would more likely label them as exciting. This also is one of his bigger flaws, as he has a tendency to chose for the more dangerous options. That being said, he is not one that brags about his exploits, and can be considered quite modest. On the other hand he is also loose lipped when asked the right questions or when rubbed the right way. He quickly forms friendships and that is both an advantage and a disadvantage. Vass will usually expect the best in peoples, rendering him to be hard to insult or irritate subtly (if you want him to notice). Doing so overtly however will result in quite the ire, for he has little patience for acts of pure malice.
Ships/Vehicles: A D-5 Mantis called "three-arms'.
Equipment:
-A set (2) of heavy blaster pistols with filed away trigger guard to accomodate his large fingers.
-A stun baton.
-A datapad
-A comm-link
-Various pieces of engineering equipment, varying from being on his person or being littered around the engineering bay of the D2. (usually has a wrench in a pocket, same goes for a hydrospanner).
-Cigars, of the thick variant.
-A gazillion packages of matches in various states of fullness (or emptyness if you are a pessimist).
-A pocket knife.
-Chance Cubes
-A canteen of whatever strong liquor was at hand in the last port.
Stats: (Feeble, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Superior, Legendary)
Strength – Above Average
Agility - Average
Intelligence - Average
Charisma – Average
Combat Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
Adept with blasters, both pistols and rifles
Apprentice brawler, though 4 arms gives him an edge sometimes.
Other Training: (Unskilled, Novice, Apprentice, Adept, Expert, Master)
An Expert Technician.
Adept Pilot.
Apprentice Slicer.
Biography:
Growing up on the icy planet of Ojom, Vass had a cold, but happy childhood. Born to Pom Prong and Karalam Prong-Sojol and raised in one of the more densely populated conclaves (one with heating!). His parents weren't wealthy but were able to provide. His father worked in a mineral mine and his mother worked at spaceport reception, Vass always liked going with his parents to work, especially all the races and cultures at his mothers work intrigued him. He was groomed to become a technician like his uncle Dalaam on one of the space many space stations orbiting the planet (the only way outsiders could be anything near comfortable 'on' the planet, due to the cold). It was a job in which some good money could be made and his parents had always saved up for his education. So Vass did his best, he genuinly enjoyed engineering and though not a prodigy, he was getting good grades.
And so, after his teens he went to work with the same employer as Dalaam. He was a content employee for the while repairing spaceships, cargo droids and other freighting infrastructure systems. He started to get independent, his own home, his own money and soon the first trip to one of the nearby systems followed. It was a time marked by the pleasures of working life, pazaak games with friends, bar brawls, hunting trips in the ice wastes of Ojom and the like. It all couldn't help that Vass soon got bored of the repetitiveness of the job (A Besalisk racial trait). Though he had visited some places of the galaxy on hollidays or working trips, at age 24 Vass decided to go work on one of the freighters that frequented his station. Hauling cargo for a peaceful and law abiding company that delivered the materials for heating devices.
Working an alround job as a technician/engineer and also pulling his weight on the unloading of the ship was some variation. But it only kept his interest for a good 3 years. Thus it was that at age 27 Vass said his farewells to the crew and sought a more ‘exotic’ freighting job. Making use of the infrastructure he got knowledge of as a lawfull freighter crewmember, and his numerous bar visits in those spaceports. He found a less than peaceful and law abiding captain, called Halon Darun (a Dug) who made a few extra credits by adding a few goods to his cargo here and there. Vass had heard his crew of "the Baron" boasting a few times over drinks in several of the spaceports they all frequented and when one of the boasts included a crew death he figured he might fill the spot. Captain Darun was sceptical at first, seeing as the rest of his crew were on the rough side, but he gave Vass the benefit of the doubt, seeing that he was in need of a good engineer. Vass got to see the more and more of the galaxy under this captain but this did not go without a few… ‘situations’ here and there.
Ranging from bar brawls, buyer shoutouts and spaceworm escapes Vass was getting a taste of the life he was looking for, and living to tell the tale aswell! due to it Vass Turned out to be an increasingly better shot and a capable brawler. Above all, he liked both, and so he nourished the skills over the years.
This time it was not Vass who wanted a new job but the sudden end to his employers live that prompted Vass into action. A deal on Kalee went sour. A weapon shipment, usually something they wouldnt take, but the payout promised to be quite handsome. What they didn't know was that the Kaleesh intended to pay in slaves. Captain Darun would not have it and negotiations turned into a brutal shootout in the cargo bay. The first casualty was Darun, a second and third were made under the crew of the Baron. Vass and the remaining 3 crewmembers managed to retreat towards the ship under the cover of the ships cannons. They had to fly off with a half-unloaded cargo, half a crew and no captain. The captain was the adhesive and so bickering and blame became a wedge driving the remaining crew apart. The whole deal still bitters him, but a fresh start was made. With the credits saved up Vass bought a freighter of his own to roam the galaxy with, finding cargo, thrills and food wherever he goes.
Roleplay Sample:
Vass’s four hands where in motion constantly. Two worked the navi-computer while a third was holding the freigthers wheel. The fourth was just relieving Vass from a terrible itch on his lower back as the ash of the cigar protruding from his mouth was calling to be disposed, giving rise to the thought that one can just not have enough hands.
“Come on shields, you can make it.”
Vass mutters to himself as he makes a barrel roll in the hope of evading the pursuing laser cannons. The sentence making the ash of his cigar drop on his smudged white wife-beater. A few manoeuvres gets him clear for a moment, relieving him of one alarm in the orchestra of beeps and sirens. A sudden dive follows as his two right hands move away from the navi-computer and one taps off his cigar in a small ashtray on the freighters dashboard. The other runs a small diagnostic on the ship’s systems console.
“You got to be kidding me, already overheating!?”
A few additional taps reroutes some cooling fluids to the rear deflector shields as the itch is finally gone. A small moment for a reflective fuzzing of the hairs as his lower left arm takes over from his upper left arm on the controls to do so.
“I sure hope the carg- Centoo! Check if the cargo is still OK, should be getting the clear on that jump soon!”
The distinct beeps of Binary can be heard from the hold. But are flushed out by the sound of another volley of bolts hitting the ship, and another alarm adding to the symphony.
“rear deflectors gone? Already?”
A few forcefull smashes on the system console does not chance the flickering red representation of his rear deflectors. Vass puts two hands to the wheel now, pulling it up hard for a choreograph movement into the pursuing fighters. Lasers pepper his front deflectors but they can take it. For now.
“GO PLOUGH A BANTHA!”
A collision is averted as he brings the ship on its side and goes between the two, a few alarms stop ringing. But one starts. Precisely the one Vass was waiting for.
“Centoo, Were leaving!”
A hackled laugh follows a wavering ‘beep’ as one of his free lower hands pulls the hyperspace lever and the stars turn into white stripes before his eyes. He slouches in his chair, a mere adjustment of an inch, but still, relaxing. Two hands go behind his head, a third to his cigar, as the fourth tries to reactivate the rear deflector shields.
“I really need to find myself a gunner…”
