Post by echo on Jun 30, 2019 2:48:09 GMT -5
 Antram Nodas Full Name • [REDACTED] Antram Nodas; Cipher Six Nickname • Annie (affectionately by his mother), Six, various aliases including but not limited to "Jazen Grainer" "Eraiz Devon" and "Arthor Skimark". Race • Human Birthplace • Mygeeto Age • 32 Gender • Male Sexuality • Pansexual Faction • Imperial Concept • Rank 2 (Imperial Intelligence Agent) Career spy; expert marksman, infiltrator, & saboteur. Languages • Basic, Huttese, Binary, High Galactic Assets • Modified Imperial-Issued Sniper Rifle affectionately named "Calypso"; an encrypted datapad for quick information access; a holocommunicator; hold-out blaster (standard-issue); a vibroknife for close-combat situations; and a beloved but frequently glitchy stealth field generator. Appearance Face Claim • Sam Heughan Height & Weight • 6'0" Overall Looks • Depending on the day, Cipher Six can walk into a room a clean-shaven professional or a disheveled mess with so many bruises, it's a wonder how his face isn't permanently damaged by now. The spy usually sports a full head of strawberry blonde hair, blue eyes, and a slightly mischievous smirk tugging at his lips but has been known to adjust his appearance when the situation calls for it. While training and personal upkeep have kept him in peak physical condition, Cipher Six isn't a particularly bulky looking man. In fact, he boasts lean muscle; his body more accustomed to scaling walls or sprinting out of an explosion radius than engaging in heavy-lifting or a grueling melee situation. In demeanor, Six is at once professional yet aloof, carrying a coiling tension in his stance and movements that loosens or tightens easily as the situation demands. Cipher Six's wardrobe is as flexible as the man who wears it. He has a number of cleanly pressed Imperial military uniforms in various shades of blacks, reds, and whites, both formal and standard. Casually, he seems to stay very fashion-forward, favoring practical styles in blacks and blues. Occupationally, the clothes vary based on the situation, whether he needs to infiltrate an aristocrat hosted party or slip quietly in a criminal-run marketplace unnoticed. In circumstances in which he is in danger of being recognized or really just doesn't want to be, he dons a full-faced helmet or mask. Personality Profile It takes a special way with words to excel in the world of intelligence, and if there's one trait Six has always had, it's his silver tongue. Conversation can just as easily be manipulation with the right approach and Six is adept at tailoring his words to match his current identity or the identity of someone else. Lying, seduction... It all runs together. It's clear he enjoys it too, and almost seems to favor talking his way out of a situation more than anything else. He delights in the nuances of tone and how the same sentence said two different ways can have an entirely different effect on the listener. In most conversations, even casual ones unrelated to work, it can be difficult to tell what's fact and fiction. Six is clearly loathe to talk about himself or his background, and dances around personal details and emotional investments. Despite this, it's difficult for Six to conceal his admiration for the arts or his appreciation of a good holobook. Beneath the veil, he's a man who thinks deeply and thoughtfully, a man who would gladly ponder the secrets of the Galaxy if he had enough wine and time. Still, Six is something of a skeptic. As far as the Force is concerned, he doesn't believe it has anything to do with none-Force users and at best, is just a useful tool that Jedi and Sith just happen to have at their disposal, no more useful or meaningful than his blaster. As aloof as Six may come across, it's clear he takes his job seriously. He's meticulous in the organization of his gear, he keeps his quarters neat and orderly, and keeps to a regular training regimen. He's quick to share a drink in a cantina, but no matter how many glasses of whiskey he consumes, it's doubtful the hangover will prevent him from waking up on time in the morning. There's pride in his work. Misled, perhaps, by his own admission. But pride nonetheless. A self-proclaimed master of the unconventional, Six is notably of improvisational solutions and workarounds and excels in situations where the odds of survival/success are quite slim. However, the brutal experiences of Six's occupation is evident in his personality, however he may try to conceal it. It's obvious that Six has done and seen things. Things that have hardened him; things that have made him reluctant, paranoid, and desperate for some kind of real, tangible freedom outside of the psychological prison espionage can subconsciously trap one in. And yet his fatal attraction to his work keeps him tied close to it and drives him to excel at it. Even if excelling means doing things that'll haunt his dreams for a long damn time. Background Father • Arthorian Nodas, businessman (deceased) Mother • Vaevia Nodas, 57 Siblings • n/a Other Important Connections • Overall History • It was a difficult delivery. Almost as difficult as the conception, Arthorian might have said under his breath when the medical team responsible for delivering his firstborn (a boy, thank the stars) set the baby in his arms and somehow expected the tradesman to hold it closer to himself than an arm's length away. He needs warmth. They had reminded him gently. But warmth wasn't given freely, he had countered. Warmth was fought for and won. Like his father before him, Arthorian Nodas had clawed his way through the mingled worlds of business and aristocracy in the Outer Rim for warmth, comfort, and wealth. So whatever warmth his newborn desired, he would earn. Fortunately for Antram, Vaevia at the least, was a little more forthcoming with her affection. Not much, mind. She still left his feeding, his changing, and his general hygiene up tot he nurses and the handmaidens. But, when her son was at least clean, decent, and most of all quiet, she was quite glad to dole out attention upon her child. Dressing him up in little outfits became something of her favorite game. As did parading him in front of the other wives of high society and boasting about his growing "intelligence" when, realistically, Antram's development was average at best. Still, if Vaevia could convince her peers that his childish babbling was actually an advanced dialect of Huttese, then she had succeeded. And to her credit, Vaevia was quite good at convincing. In contrast, Antram's relationship with his father was... strained, to say the least. Arthorian's only example of parenting had been his own father, a cruel and strict man who'd once denied his children food for a week in an effort to teach them what life would be like if they continued to take him for granted. Arthorian would never stoop to such levels himself (two days without food, at most), but in his own words, trying to raise his son properly as a potential heir to his fortune was about as fruitless as calming a Rancor. It simply couldn't be done. For one, Antram was clever. Too clever for his own good, perhaps. Like most children born in Imperial families, boundaries made up the bulk of his childhood, and there was nothing the young boy wanted to do more than escape them. Even if just for a moment. It was something of a game then. Slipping out of the watchful gaze of his father's hired men, or talking the staff into letting him step outside the estate for no more than an hour if only to inspect a friend's swoop bike. He was impulsive, often disgraceful. The boy could talk and impress at parties and social engagements but if his parents implied their approval at all, he'd slip up for no reason than pure spite. After sixteen years of an attempt at a home education, at a friend and Imperial officer's urging, Arthorian enrolled his wayward son into the Imperial Academy and trusted the rigid discipline of the Empire to do to his son what he could never do. It almost had the desired effect. Always somewhat intellectually gifted but lacking motivation, Antram quickly found it to be his undoing in the Academy. The Empire wanted smart, capable soldiers and you were quickly deemed something of a pariah if you couldn't keep up academically. But where Antram felt short in subjects like operational statistics and naval combat tactics, he excelled in the more... hands-on classes. He discovered a quick gift for the rifle and there was no space flight scenario he couldn't pass. If Antram had been any different, perhaps he would have graduated top of his class. Perhaps he would have become the professional and highly decorated officer his father had hoped for. His scores remained average. Fit for infantry. But an officer? It would take decades. Antram's first assignment was Dantooine, where each day he was given a rifle, a perch, and told to stay put for hours until his relief. Day after day, again and again. It was perhaps by chance that he noticed suspicious behavior among his comrades through the scope of his rifle and opted to investigate himself. Sheer luck, perhaps, that led him to discover these men trading secrets to the Republic. And if anyone asked in the future, how he managed to dismantle the whole operation himself... Luck and chance was the easy answer. Slightly less embarrassing too, than describing his clumsy first attempts at espionage. But whether luck truly had anything to do with or not, it did catch someone's attention. Abruptly, Antram was reassigned to Dromund Kaas and order to report to the Citadel for "specialized training." Whatever skills he maintained from the Academy were polished and refined. And new skills were taught. Sabotage, infiltration, manipulation, assassination... And like moth to a flame, Antram thrived in it. For the first time in his life, he felt like he was doing the thing he was always meant to be doing. After a handful of successful operations as a low-level agent and a few more years of refined training, Antram was stripped of his name and identity and given a new one: Cipher Six. Meant to be a versatile field agent, Six's assignments have ranged anywhere from sabotage to assassination, and time and time again has he proven to be a ruthlessly loyal servant of the Empire. But in the wake of the tentative peace and fragile alliance between the Sith Empire and the Galactic Republic, Six has found there's more time to think these days. And more time to think means more time to doubt... |
