Post by Blue on Dec 29, 2015 17:53:27 GMT -5
Name: Willem "Klem" Klement
Race: Human
Age: 21
Birthplace: Dantooine
Allegiance: Dantooine Liberation Army
Status: Scout (former game hunter)
Rank: Member
Height/Weight: 5'6", 126 lbs
Appearance:
Klem is not someone who stands out physically, standing at average height and weight for a human male of his age. Despite almost always being outdoors his skin remains a paler colour, refusing to tan. If burned by the sun, his skin turns red for a while, peels, then returns to the colour it was without much change (albeit with possibly a few new faded freckles). While not buff, he possesses the musculature and stamina of a man who spends most of his days trekking the plains and forests, and carrying heavy burdens (often in the form of game he has tracked and killed) back and forth.
His gaunt face holds no real expression most of the time, resting in an near constant state of calm. That is not to say he rarely expresses emotion; indeed, he freely gives a friendly smile to most people he meets. His sunken eyes, dull grey in colour, often flash in amusement or camaraderie when he is around others. He carries himself with purpose, being used to keeping every movement measured to ensure he does not step on any twigs or loose stones in case it might scare off a quarry. Most people are startled when he appears, such is the silence of his steps.
His pale blond hair, long in length, is often tucked out of the way of his eyes by his dark green, wool beret. He usually wears a camouflage cloak around his body, normally pinned at his left shoulder with a loop of free material to make a hood should the weather turn foul. Under that, his garments are rather modest; earth tones pervade through his entire wardrobe, which contains little more than simply shirts, trousers and other basic clothing. The only thing that might count as outside the norm is the partial jawbone of a kath hound that he wears like a talisman around his neck.
Personality:
Although Klem has spent most of his life out along the plains and groves of Dantooine rather than in any of the more populated centers, he is still a friendly young man. Soft-spoken, unassuming and polite, he usually keeps to himself and his old job had him working alone most of the time, but he is willing to work in a team towards a united goal. That being said, he does not enjoy the idea of depending heavily on others and prefers to have some autonomy.
Pragmatic and thoughtful, Klem is used to taking his time doing things and does not like to rush. Utterly practical, he dislikes jumping to conclusions but is not opposed to listening to his gut instinct, which has saved his life on occasion. He is able to detach himself on a emotional level with remarkable efficiency and react to stressful situations in a calm and orderly fashion that many consider cold. While some might be shocked at this contrast with his warm persona off the field, this compartmentalisation is simply a coping mechanism he uses so that he is able to get on with his job regardless of what he might currently be feeling.
Normally keeping his innermost thoughts and feelings to himself unless asked first, Klem is open to new ideas and is rarely judgmental towards others. The only exception to this is those lines of thought that lead to the preaching of intolerance and the harming of others for little reason. Due to his isolated upbringing, he is a little more naive than most people his age, especially in matters of the heart.
Ships/Vehicles:
None
Equipment:
Hunting Blaster Rifle
Simple folding lock knife
Other various hunting knives (skinning, boning, ect)
Macrobinoculars
Camo-cloak
Stats:
Strength - Average
Agility - Average
Intelligence - Average
Charisma - Average
Combat Training:
Marksmanship - Adept
Self Defence (Knife Fighting) - Apprentice
Other Training:
Hunting (tracking, trapping, ect)- Master
Local Fauna and Flora - Expert
Stealth - Expert
Climbing - Adept
Wilderness Survival - Adept
Butchery - Adept
Biography:
Willem Klement was born to a family of farmers on Dantooine, like many other children of that world. His parents were decent folk who kept their noses clean and got on with working the land, and for the first few years of his life the infant boy wanted for nothing. He was loved, sheltered and well cared for, as any child should be. Unfortunately, that was not what the future that the universe had in mind for the lad. After an accident involving a speeder, a loaded hunting blaster and a stray kath hound, he was made an orphan at the tender age of three.
Although a man of little need for social interaction and tense ties with the family, his mother's brother, Luddy, could not find it in himself to leave the boy to an uncertain future and decided to adopt the young lad. Luddy was a hard man with little time for things like emotional nurturing, but he did what he could. He raised Willem away from the more populated areas of the world, out on the plains and in the groves, where the wild beasts lived. This was where Luddy trained the boy to be a hunter.
Willem learned. Out there, with no-one but his Uncle Luddy for company, he learned quickly for the older man would not permit him to learn slowly. Before he could hold a rifle, Luddy taught him the different types of tracks the native animals left, and how to follow them reliably. He was taught how to start a campfire and create makeshift shelters. How to hide himself, sight and scent, from the creatures he would soon be tracking.
As he began growing older, Luddy started him on the more mature pursuits of hunting: killing game and what to do with the remains. He was started off small, drilled on creating low tech traps for the smaller animals that ran around the grassy planet until he could almost tie snares in his sleep. Then came the more gruesome stuff: skinning the remains and the uses of each part of the body. Willem hated this part so much to start with that he actually ran away in the dead of night after his uncle tried to force him to skin a small dead rodent, exchanging heated words with the older man before storming out.
Already capable of finding his way even at the young age of eleven, Willem made his way to a nearby farm. The family that lived there, a father and his three boys, took him in for the night. Willem found he enjoyed being around others his own age and quickly became friends with the farmer's sons, one of whom nicknamed him "Klem", which stuck. After calming down, Willem began feeling guilty for some of the things he said to Luddy and decided to return and apologise. He bid the farmer and his family goodbye and agreed to come back every now and then.
Making his way back to the modest cabin the two shared, Willem found the old hunter in the shed where they treated and preserved the animal remains. They made their peace with each other, Luddy making the first apology the young lad had ever heard him utter, and Willem agreeing to pick up where they had left off. The boy soon got over his initial squeamishness and quickly learned how to butcher the animals that he was being taught to hunt.
About five years passed relatively uneventfully. Willem swiftly came into his own as a hunter and even gained a little local fame when he tracked down and killed a particularly vicious kath hound that had killed several farmhands and bol. His uncle made a necklace out of part of the kath hound's jawbone and proudly presented it to his nephew for his accomplishment. But the coming war was not intending to spare the peaceful lands of Dantooine, and soon Willem's world turned much darker.
The Occupation of Dantooine had begun.
As out of the way as Willem and his uncle where, even they still felt the shadow stretching across the planet. At first, the young man wanted to fight back, but Luddy forbade him to get involved. The older hunter claimed that he had seen too few summers to allow himself to get tainted by that kind of conflict, explaining that he himself had originally been a soldier but had deserted and became a bounty hunter after a particularly brutal battle. He had only returned to Dantooine initially because he had gained a bounty on his own head and needed somewhere to disappear. That he turned out to enjoy the simple life of a hunter had been a pleasant surprise.
Willem bowed to the greater experience of his guardian, but as the years went by and things got worse for the people of his homeworld he chaffed at the inaction. In an attempt to rein in his nephew's desire to leep to action, Luddy began training the lad in self-defense in the form of knife fighting that he picked up from his travels around the galaxy.
He kept hunting game and found that his uncle was staying out alone longer and longer. One night, when out collecting the bounty from his snares, the young hunter felt a pull deep in his gut and his palms started to itch. Unable to explain the sudden sensation but deciding against his better judgment to follow the instinct, Willem ran home only to find that the area had been wiped out by the Sith invaders. Fleeing to his home, he found it in flames and two Sith troopers standing over his uncle's body.
A strange tranquility came over Willem's mind and he silently aimed his hunting blaster rifle at the soldiers. They never even had a chance to find out where the muffled shots came from as they fell to the ground, quite dead. He investigated the scene, but there was little left untouched by the flames other than Luddy's remains. Searching his uncle's body in the off chance of finding some hint of reason for the Sith attack, he discovered two things: an odd tattoo and the leaf of a Dantl Bush sewn into his clothing.
Not knowing what to do with his life now, Willem made a choice: he would find the fight and help out in whatever way he could. Packing up his few remaining belongings and what he could salvage from the flames, Klem set out in search of those who would fight.
Roleplay Sample:
The wind was blowing to the south, bringing with it clouds. It would rain tonight. He kept downwind. They probably would not be able to smell him like some of the beasts native to the plains of Dantooine could, but some old habits die hard and Klem had little desire to have his habits die at all. He would need them, all of them, if he was going to survive the occupation of his homeworld.
One. Two. Three. An odd number for a patrol. They walked down the old path through the long grass in silence, their heads rotating this way and that to ensure that they would not overlook any threats. Out here, dangers lurked. Kinrath and huurton could easily ambush an unwary traveller. Even iriaz posed a hazard if it felt threaten or was provoked. But none of those creatures where out here right now. Klem could tell. There was only one predator out in the grasslands today, and it was looking at them through the scope of a hunting blaster rifle.
Four more steps. Two. One.
CLACK
The still air was swiftly shattered by the soldier's screams of pain as the trap's jaws slammed shut around his shin. Klem had made that trap himself. It was strong enough to hold a fully grown and rabid horned kath hound in place. The man would not be able to get free in time. His companions turned to face the threat. Turned away from where the hunter lay on the nearby hill. Klem breathed out slowly until he held only a minimal amount of air in his lungs as his finger squeezed the trigger.
The first soldier went down. A clean hit, dead before he hit the ground. Klem switched targets to the other one as he swung around, raising his weapon against the unseen foe. Another sigh, another squeeze, another shot, another drop. Only the one in the trap left. His helmet had fallen off, revealing scared features. Klem could see the whites of his eyes as they swiveled around in his skull. His mouth moved. Maybe he was pleading?
A sigh. A squeeze. A shot. No more soldiers.
Shouldering the rifle and tweaking the fabric of his camouflaged coat so that it hung right, Klem stood and made his way towards the dead men to inspect his kills and retrieve the trap. It would be needed again before long. He knelt down beside the body, noting with satisfaction as he manipulated the device that the blaster round had taken him through the head. They may have been his enemies, and they may not feel the same restraint themselves, but they had the right to die quick and clean. Everyone had the right to die quick and clean.
The hunter paused. His palms were itching.
snap
Instinct saved the young man, his body automatically throwing itself out of the way as a hand wielding a knife plunged down where his neck had been mere moments before. Rolling into a crouch, Klem turned to see the second soldier he had shot charging at him, murder in his eyes and blood leaking generously from his shoulder. A poor shot. The hunter felt a momentary sliver of shame before the man was upon him, swinging wildly with his blade. Klem threw himself back again, drawing his own, smaller lock knife free from his belt.
What followed next was a clumsy exchange. The soldier was hindered by his wound and rage, but Klem was on even ground due to his relative inexperience in close quarter combat. But the gap soon widened. The wound was telling, too close to the chest and vital organs for comfort. The pain would be intense. In a distant part of his mind, Klem was impressed the man was still going. In a matter of moments, the soldier stumbled and the hunter rotated on the balls of his feet and lashed out with a foot, knocking the other man down onto his face. He moaned, squirmed in the dry dirt of the worn road. Klem knelt over him. The blade came down.
The hunter pulled the bodies out of sight. The beasts would catch the scent of them soon and would eat a good meal tonight. Klem removed the heavier, tougher parts of the armour from the dead so that they would have an easier time. Collecting the trap from the road, he raised his face to the sky.
It would rain tonight.
Race: Human
Age: 21
Birthplace: Dantooine
Allegiance: Dantooine Liberation Army
Status: Scout (former game hunter)
Rank: Member
Height/Weight: 5'6", 126 lbs
Appearance:
Klem is not someone who stands out physically, standing at average height and weight for a human male of his age. Despite almost always being outdoors his skin remains a paler colour, refusing to tan. If burned by the sun, his skin turns red for a while, peels, then returns to the colour it was without much change (albeit with possibly a few new faded freckles). While not buff, he possesses the musculature and stamina of a man who spends most of his days trekking the plains and forests, and carrying heavy burdens (often in the form of game he has tracked and killed) back and forth.
His gaunt face holds no real expression most of the time, resting in an near constant state of calm. That is not to say he rarely expresses emotion; indeed, he freely gives a friendly smile to most people he meets. His sunken eyes, dull grey in colour, often flash in amusement or camaraderie when he is around others. He carries himself with purpose, being used to keeping every movement measured to ensure he does not step on any twigs or loose stones in case it might scare off a quarry. Most people are startled when he appears, such is the silence of his steps.
His pale blond hair, long in length, is often tucked out of the way of his eyes by his dark green, wool beret. He usually wears a camouflage cloak around his body, normally pinned at his left shoulder with a loop of free material to make a hood should the weather turn foul. Under that, his garments are rather modest; earth tones pervade through his entire wardrobe, which contains little more than simply shirts, trousers and other basic clothing. The only thing that might count as outside the norm is the partial jawbone of a kath hound that he wears like a talisman around his neck.
Personality:
Although Klem has spent most of his life out along the plains and groves of Dantooine rather than in any of the more populated centers, he is still a friendly young man. Soft-spoken, unassuming and polite, he usually keeps to himself and his old job had him working alone most of the time, but he is willing to work in a team towards a united goal. That being said, he does not enjoy the idea of depending heavily on others and prefers to have some autonomy.
Pragmatic and thoughtful, Klem is used to taking his time doing things and does not like to rush. Utterly practical, he dislikes jumping to conclusions but is not opposed to listening to his gut instinct, which has saved his life on occasion. He is able to detach himself on a emotional level with remarkable efficiency and react to stressful situations in a calm and orderly fashion that many consider cold. While some might be shocked at this contrast with his warm persona off the field, this compartmentalisation is simply a coping mechanism he uses so that he is able to get on with his job regardless of what he might currently be feeling.
Normally keeping his innermost thoughts and feelings to himself unless asked first, Klem is open to new ideas and is rarely judgmental towards others. The only exception to this is those lines of thought that lead to the preaching of intolerance and the harming of others for little reason. Due to his isolated upbringing, he is a little more naive than most people his age, especially in matters of the heart.
Ships/Vehicles:
None
Equipment:
Hunting Blaster Rifle
Simple folding lock knife
Other various hunting knives (skinning, boning, ect)
Macrobinoculars
Camo-cloak
Stats:
Strength - Average
Agility - Average
Intelligence - Average
Charisma - Average
Combat Training:
Marksmanship - Adept
Self Defence (Knife Fighting) - Apprentice
Other Training:
Hunting (tracking, trapping, ect)- Master
Local Fauna and Flora - Expert
Stealth - Expert
Climbing - Adept
Wilderness Survival - Adept
Butchery - Adept
Biography:
Willem Klement was born to a family of farmers on Dantooine, like many other children of that world. His parents were decent folk who kept their noses clean and got on with working the land, and for the first few years of his life the infant boy wanted for nothing. He was loved, sheltered and well cared for, as any child should be. Unfortunately, that was not what the future that the universe had in mind for the lad. After an accident involving a speeder, a loaded hunting blaster and a stray kath hound, he was made an orphan at the tender age of three.
Although a man of little need for social interaction and tense ties with the family, his mother's brother, Luddy, could not find it in himself to leave the boy to an uncertain future and decided to adopt the young lad. Luddy was a hard man with little time for things like emotional nurturing, but he did what he could. He raised Willem away from the more populated areas of the world, out on the plains and in the groves, where the wild beasts lived. This was where Luddy trained the boy to be a hunter.
Willem learned. Out there, with no-one but his Uncle Luddy for company, he learned quickly for the older man would not permit him to learn slowly. Before he could hold a rifle, Luddy taught him the different types of tracks the native animals left, and how to follow them reliably. He was taught how to start a campfire and create makeshift shelters. How to hide himself, sight and scent, from the creatures he would soon be tracking.
As he began growing older, Luddy started him on the more mature pursuits of hunting: killing game and what to do with the remains. He was started off small, drilled on creating low tech traps for the smaller animals that ran around the grassy planet until he could almost tie snares in his sleep. Then came the more gruesome stuff: skinning the remains and the uses of each part of the body. Willem hated this part so much to start with that he actually ran away in the dead of night after his uncle tried to force him to skin a small dead rodent, exchanging heated words with the older man before storming out.
Already capable of finding his way even at the young age of eleven, Willem made his way to a nearby farm. The family that lived there, a father and his three boys, took him in for the night. Willem found he enjoyed being around others his own age and quickly became friends with the farmer's sons, one of whom nicknamed him "Klem", which stuck. After calming down, Willem began feeling guilty for some of the things he said to Luddy and decided to return and apologise. He bid the farmer and his family goodbye and agreed to come back every now and then.
Making his way back to the modest cabin the two shared, Willem found the old hunter in the shed where they treated and preserved the animal remains. They made their peace with each other, Luddy making the first apology the young lad had ever heard him utter, and Willem agreeing to pick up where they had left off. The boy soon got over his initial squeamishness and quickly learned how to butcher the animals that he was being taught to hunt.
About five years passed relatively uneventfully. Willem swiftly came into his own as a hunter and even gained a little local fame when he tracked down and killed a particularly vicious kath hound that had killed several farmhands and bol. His uncle made a necklace out of part of the kath hound's jawbone and proudly presented it to his nephew for his accomplishment. But the coming war was not intending to spare the peaceful lands of Dantooine, and soon Willem's world turned much darker.
The Occupation of Dantooine had begun.
As out of the way as Willem and his uncle where, even they still felt the shadow stretching across the planet. At first, the young man wanted to fight back, but Luddy forbade him to get involved. The older hunter claimed that he had seen too few summers to allow himself to get tainted by that kind of conflict, explaining that he himself had originally been a soldier but had deserted and became a bounty hunter after a particularly brutal battle. He had only returned to Dantooine initially because he had gained a bounty on his own head and needed somewhere to disappear. That he turned out to enjoy the simple life of a hunter had been a pleasant surprise.
Willem bowed to the greater experience of his guardian, but as the years went by and things got worse for the people of his homeworld he chaffed at the inaction. In an attempt to rein in his nephew's desire to leep to action, Luddy began training the lad in self-defense in the form of knife fighting that he picked up from his travels around the galaxy.
He kept hunting game and found that his uncle was staying out alone longer and longer. One night, when out collecting the bounty from his snares, the young hunter felt a pull deep in his gut and his palms started to itch. Unable to explain the sudden sensation but deciding against his better judgment to follow the instinct, Willem ran home only to find that the area had been wiped out by the Sith invaders. Fleeing to his home, he found it in flames and two Sith troopers standing over his uncle's body.
A strange tranquility came over Willem's mind and he silently aimed his hunting blaster rifle at the soldiers. They never even had a chance to find out where the muffled shots came from as they fell to the ground, quite dead. He investigated the scene, but there was little left untouched by the flames other than Luddy's remains. Searching his uncle's body in the off chance of finding some hint of reason for the Sith attack, he discovered two things: an odd tattoo and the leaf of a Dantl Bush sewn into his clothing.
Not knowing what to do with his life now, Willem made a choice: he would find the fight and help out in whatever way he could. Packing up his few remaining belongings and what he could salvage from the flames, Klem set out in search of those who would fight.
Roleplay Sample:
The wind was blowing to the south, bringing with it clouds. It would rain tonight. He kept downwind. They probably would not be able to smell him like some of the beasts native to the plains of Dantooine could, but some old habits die hard and Klem had little desire to have his habits die at all. He would need them, all of them, if he was going to survive the occupation of his homeworld.
One. Two. Three. An odd number for a patrol. They walked down the old path through the long grass in silence, their heads rotating this way and that to ensure that they would not overlook any threats. Out here, dangers lurked. Kinrath and huurton could easily ambush an unwary traveller. Even iriaz posed a hazard if it felt threaten or was provoked. But none of those creatures where out here right now. Klem could tell. There was only one predator out in the grasslands today, and it was looking at them through the scope of a hunting blaster rifle.
Four more steps. Two. One.
CLACK
The still air was swiftly shattered by the soldier's screams of pain as the trap's jaws slammed shut around his shin. Klem had made that trap himself. It was strong enough to hold a fully grown and rabid horned kath hound in place. The man would not be able to get free in time. His companions turned to face the threat. Turned away from where the hunter lay on the nearby hill. Klem breathed out slowly until he held only a minimal amount of air in his lungs as his finger squeezed the trigger.
The first soldier went down. A clean hit, dead before he hit the ground. Klem switched targets to the other one as he swung around, raising his weapon against the unseen foe. Another sigh, another squeeze, another shot, another drop. Only the one in the trap left. His helmet had fallen off, revealing scared features. Klem could see the whites of his eyes as they swiveled around in his skull. His mouth moved. Maybe he was pleading?
A sigh. A squeeze. A shot. No more soldiers.
Shouldering the rifle and tweaking the fabric of his camouflaged coat so that it hung right, Klem stood and made his way towards the dead men to inspect his kills and retrieve the trap. It would be needed again before long. He knelt down beside the body, noting with satisfaction as he manipulated the device that the blaster round had taken him through the head. They may have been his enemies, and they may not feel the same restraint themselves, but they had the right to die quick and clean. Everyone had the right to die quick and clean.
The hunter paused. His palms were itching.
snap
Instinct saved the young man, his body automatically throwing itself out of the way as a hand wielding a knife plunged down where his neck had been mere moments before. Rolling into a crouch, Klem turned to see the second soldier he had shot charging at him, murder in his eyes and blood leaking generously from his shoulder. A poor shot. The hunter felt a momentary sliver of shame before the man was upon him, swinging wildly with his blade. Klem threw himself back again, drawing his own, smaller lock knife free from his belt.
What followed next was a clumsy exchange. The soldier was hindered by his wound and rage, but Klem was on even ground due to his relative inexperience in close quarter combat. But the gap soon widened. The wound was telling, too close to the chest and vital organs for comfort. The pain would be intense. In a distant part of his mind, Klem was impressed the man was still going. In a matter of moments, the soldier stumbled and the hunter rotated on the balls of his feet and lashed out with a foot, knocking the other man down onto his face. He moaned, squirmed in the dry dirt of the worn road. Klem knelt over him. The blade came down.
The hunter pulled the bodies out of sight. The beasts would catch the scent of them soon and would eat a good meal tonight. Klem removed the heavier, tougher parts of the armour from the dead so that they would have an easier time. Collecting the trap from the road, he raised his face to the sky.
It would rain tonight.
