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Post by DreadPirateMike on May 19, 2018 0:35:57 GMT -5
 Ganlon Vahal Full Name • Ganlon Vahal Race • Human Birthplace • Alsakan Age • 26 Gender • Male Faction • Sith Concept • Rank 2 Army Corporal. Conscripted cannon fodder. Refuses to roll over and die. Languages • Basic Assets • Officially, everything he owns can be found in a foot locker. This mostly includes a couple sets of civilian clothes for his off duty time, the flat cap he favors preeminent among them, and a small case containing a few medals and decorations he's received over the years. Unofficially, he almost always has a small knife and equipment to facilitate unauthorized entry hidden somewhere about his person. He's also carefully saved what cash and valuable trinkets he's managed to discreetly loot over the years in various rainy day funds on the off chance he survives long enough to make use of them. Some of this is stored in an account in Hutt space. The rest of it is buried. Appearance Height & Weight • 5'9"; 190 lbs Overall Looks • While not especially tall, Ganlon does possess a stocky and muscular build. Broad at the shoulders, he’s certainly no living tank of a bodybuilder, but shows off a degree of obvious vitality all the same. Together with two visible knife scars, one down the cheek and the other through his right eyebrow, it’s enough to convey to most that he’s not one to mess with. His posture and demeanor may or may not enhance this, as survival requires him to be something of a chameleon; around his superiors, particularly those who carry lightsabers, about the most one sees is an almost droid-like subservience. Beneath his clothing, an assortment of further scars and blaster burns lie hidden, as well as tattoos commemorating everything from his stint in prison to the unit designation he eventually and reluctantly came to identify with. He can usually be found wearing a dulled and thoroughly sterilized Rakghoul fang hanging from his neck to immortalize his survival of Taris. He tends to keep his hair on the longer side of regulation, usually swept back out of his face by a moderate application of whatever product he has on hand. And though he keeps his face clean shaven when under scrutiny, he’ll usually let at least a few days’ worth of fuzz accumulate before he bothers in the field. Offsetting this fearsome exterior are a pair of surprisingly soft, even gentle hazel eyes. Ganlon long ago learned that the universe would punish any show of weakness, but if one looks closely enough in the right moment, they might yet spot some lingering trace of well-hidden vulnerability. Personality Profile Ganlon's motivations are not complex. He had the misfortune of being born in a time and place where, at least on paper, others had far more influence over whether he lived or died than he ever would. And those people couldn't even be bothered to pretend that they attached any real value to his life. In spite of this, Ganlon means to survive, and isn't particular as to how. Theft, murder and destruction of public property - Or private, for that matter. - represent no lines in the sand for him. It's important to note, however, that he's primarily a pragmatist, not an outright psychopath. He can be disproportionately vengeful, given the opportunity, to those who piss him off badly enough, but hurting people for the hell of it carries no thrill for him. While he wouldn't say he LIKES children, per se, he does have a bit of a soft spot for them. In his less guarded moments, when the immediate necessities of survival are seen to, Ganlon is remarkably laid back and sociable. A passionate Grav-ball fan, he can frequently be found in whatever local pub is showing a game, decked out in the jersey of his favored team and knocking back a few (Or more than a few.) ales with the mates. Failing that, ever a fan of his simple creature comforts, he's usually content so long as he can duck out for a smoke every now and then. Background Father • Rekai Vahal, deceased Mother • Shinnai Vahal, deceased Overall History • By right of birth, Ganlon Vahal should have been a citizen of the Republic and happy denizen of a Core World that the war never touched. Alas, he had the misfortune of being born in a time of ever-growing instability for the galaxy, and things weren’t much better right at home. His father, Rekai, was a handsome man in his youth, gifted with natural charm and athleticism. This attracted a pretty girl to his side, and for awhile, they had a lot of fun together. But to be honest, marriage probably wasn’t the best fit for either of them. And they certainly shouldn’t have shouldered the responsibility of a family. By the time Ganlon was three, Rekai had a number of half-baked and failed business schemes behind him with little but a list of outstanding debts to show for it. But the ultimate pipe dream was yet to come; the new Sith Empire in the Outer Rim had for years been promising new opportunities and a better life beyond the tired and decaying Republic. Swayed by what at least in their case proved empty promises, as well as the prospect of safety from the bill collectors, he moved the family to the Sith capital on Munnilinst. When they found only menial jobs as star port sanitation workers awaiting them, Rekai soon enough began to vent his bitterness on the only targets in all the galaxy over which he had any influence: the bottle, and his family. As for his mother, Shinnai had no greater claim to having her life together. But she loved her son, and to her credit, she did try her best to shield him from all this. Eventually she succeeded, after a fashion. A murder-suicide by blaster ended the abuse freed Ganlon from any further connection with his parents’ failings. And from the age of 11, he was on his own. But by that point, he’d already been through plenty of accelerated growing up as one of that world’s “Little People”. He found the people who could, at a heavy price, impart the skills necessary for survival, and he managed well enough. At least, he managed up until he was caught selling illegal weapon mods and carted off to prison with a 30 year sentence. And in truth, he could likely have adapted even to that easily enough had the war with the Republic not been intensifying. Impressed into the army to satisfy its ever-increasing need for fresh bodies, he wasn’t happy, but nor did he worry too much for his safety just yet. After all, hadn’t they defeated the Republic in nearly every engagement so far? So he learned to shoot straight, picked out the biggest bastard to hide behind when the trouble started, and awaited his first battle. That battle, as it happened, was Taris. He still remembers worrying that the rest of his unit would discover he’d pissed himself when Levin Caelum and his chosen killers dropped out of the sky in the middle of them...until he saw the monster shrug off their blaster fire like rain, and knew he was far from alone in his reaction. And then things got REALLY interesting, when his own command and their damned gadgets got in on trying to get him killed. And yet he also managed to attain a life’s goal during that panicked carnage, one which he’d assumed would always be out of reach. While frantically trying to avoid swarming Rakghouls, he came across one of his Sith commanders alone and injured. Even bleeding profusely and cradling a mangled arm, the veiny faced bastard imperiously demanded that Ganlon attend him. Figuring he was proper fucked anyway, Ganlon responded by putting a blaster bolt between his yellow eyes. In that moment, a long known truth properly crystallized: for reasons beyond his ken, he loved living, and refused to stop until he was good and ready. And he was a damn sight short of ready. He had to climb over a mountain of the poor doomed men and women he’d called his own fellow soldiers, but he made it onto one of those fleeing transports. Call it luck, stubbornness, the will of the Force, or all of the above, but neither that battle, nor any of the others they tossed him headlong into would be his last. It may not have been much of a career, advancement coming slowly if at all to a conscript, but he managed to spot or create his fair share of unofficial opportunities along the way, gradually becoming known among the rank and file as “that guy who knows a guy”. And he lived to see peace, which was more than many could say. He’s not an idiot. He knows that sooner or later, Hell will break loose once more. But in the meantime, he keeps his head down and makes his discreet preparations. He hopes to have some options when the dam breaks, and he’s long since accepted that the universe won’t just give him anything. |
