Post by Ascending_1 on Jun 10, 2009 3:53:23 GMT -5
Faction: Mandalorian
Department: Special Ops
Rank: Specialist
Name: Zev Huldig
Race: Human
Age: 19
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 160 lbs.
Appearance:
Zev seems more suited to ranged combat, by the looks of him. He is of average height and weight, but he is lightly built, with most of his strength in his legs and core. He is still stronger than the average human, due to his training, but he is somewhat beneath the typical Mandalorian level. However, as he grows, he continues to become stronger. He has medium length dark brown hair, which he generally keeps parted down the middle, so his vision isn’t sketchy when he puts his helmet on. His eyes are steel gray, and are deceptively cheerful. He is clean shaven, and his face is usually set in a youthful expression of interest. His body carries a number of scars that any Mandalorian would be proud of, most of them resulting from training and life in the jungles of Dxun. Most notable, however, are the trio of laser burns he carries, two of which are on his back, and another on his right pectoral muscle. His armor has been customized and tinkered with numerous times since he came to possess it, but it shines like new. The blast-dampening cloth that covers his skintight bodysuit is dark gray, and the armor plates are bronze and dark gray, as is the traditional kama he wears. He has a black mythosaur tattoo on his left shoulder, and Mando’a phrases above and below. Above, it reads “Darasuum Verda” or “Eternal Warriors.” Below, “Shereshoy.” There is also a scarification on his left forearm that reads “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam” or “A warrior is more than his armor.” When not wearing his traditional Mandalorian armor, Zev is wearing one of his trophy outfits, made from the hides of beasts he has killed on Dxun, or simple military fatigues.
Birthplace: Dxun
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 7
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 5
Melee Weapons: 6
Ranged Weapons: 5
Alignment: +2
Bio:
Pre-Conception
Kalto Huldig wasn’t the best warrior around. He wasn’t the worst, but he certainly wasn’t the best. In fact, his skills were so average, that he seemed not to exist at all in the small Dxun settlement. At times, he would regret being born into Mandalorian culture. He knew that, if he had been a part of the Republic or Empire, he would be seen as a highly skilled warrior. But, alas, it was not so. He spent much of his time trying (and failing) to improve himself. He seemed to be stuck in a rut.
So, he was completely surprised to be put in charge of a small scouting party at the age of twenty.
The previous commander had died of complications after being dragged back to base on a stretcher. He had suffered from tripwire-causing-plasma-mines-to-detonate related injuries. But that’s neither here nor there.
The point is, Kalto was in charge, and he was quickly put out into the field, with a final, firm warning to watch his step.
After a few months, nothing seemed to be out of place. Kalto had done as he was told, and had yet to set off any booby-traps. At least, he often thought, he was skilled in self-preservation through awareness. It seemed as if nothing important were ever going to happen to him. Then, he met the mir’sheb who would eventually be his wife.
Kalto was scouting the perimeter of the settlement one day, when a meteor hit the ground a few kilometers out. To say that Kalto didn't want to check the crash site would be an understatement. But, it was his duty, so he had no choice, and grudgingly made his way into the jungle. When he got to the impact site, he found that it was not a meteor as he had expected, but a starship. After poking around a bit, they found that a few members of the crew had survived. Two men, a woman, and a droid. The party quickly restrained the survivors, and transported them (along with weapons and valuables, obviously) back to base. It was there, after dealing with the survivors (two of which were adopted through the gai bal manda shortly after), that Kalto met Zev’s future mother, Manna Haat.
Zev’s parents weren’t a typical match. First of all, they hated each other longer than they were together. In fact, the first time his mother touched his father, it was to punch him in the face. Nonetheless, they eventually overcame their dislike and married, conceiving Zev shortly after.
Youth
When Zev was born, there was much that was expected of him. As one of the few children, he would be given great attention and more strict training. As was customary, he spent the first few years of his life being raised by his mother. However, due to his fathers feelings that he wasn’t a proper teacher (remember the mediocre-I mean average skill mentioned earlier?), after age three, he was taught by the clan as a whole. By age five, he was friends with another youth named Voël. They were competitive, yet friendly. In all their training, they strove to outperform each other, congratulating each other when one was victorious.
During Zev's upbringing, most of his parent's attitudes rubbed off on him. Since they had an initially unromantic relationship, their humor often turned sarcastic. This trait became one of those that Zev would be most known for, after his excellent skill, of course. His mother often fussed over his physical appearance, stating that it was a miracle she had been attracted to his father, considering his general neglect for his grooming. The dreadlocked, unshaven man took no offense, but Zev could always see the indignation in his eyes.
When he was six, Zev got 'the talk' from his father, who still thought he was a bad teacher for his son. Zev would later refer to this event as "the ruination of interest in the fairer sex" among friends. The mans descriptions were so badly punctuated with embarrassment and shame that Zev actually laughed at him. Several times. When he told Voël about this, he was confused. Zev explained with a simple statement, and an expression imitating that of his father's.
"It's n-n-natural to wonder what's underneath the armor." Zev mimicked, summoning a fierce, sweaty blush and pretending to cough into his fist, averting his eyes.
Needless to say, Zev planned on having someone else explain reproduction to his children, if he ever had any. Maybe the mother. Or maybe he would just never bring it up, and leave it to his offspring to figure it out for themselves.
For the next few years, he and Voël would develop inside jokes about the various personalities around camp. In order to make them easier to tell, they would also make corresponding gestures. This, of course, made their eventual 'separation' more difficult for Zev. It's no fun to make an inside joke when you're the only one inside.
Voël's Grudge
At age ten, Zev and Voël were nearly inseparable. They fought together, trained together, and hunted together. They were like brothers. However, the beginnings of a schism were visible when Zev turned thirteen, several months before Voël. Zev was expected to complete his verd’goten or coming of age, by the time Voël turned thirteen. He did it in half the time, and became a warrior. By the time both were fourteen, Voël was bitter that Zev had reached warrior status before he had, and was thus given more respect. It also didn't help his self-confidence that for his verd'goten, he had resorted to requesting a trial from the warriors. He had been victorious in a handful of rounds in the dueling ring, but he wished for something more exciting. Zev's verd'goten had been the talk of the camp for weeks, but he had insisted that it was simple luck. In Voël’s opinion, Zev had taken his glory. This would fester for several years, until both were sixteen.
Coming of Age
The verd'goten itself was a simple matter for Zev. When he was thirteen, he asked his father what he had done for his trial. Kalto didn't have a great tale to tell, but he gave his son some ideas.
Kalto told him that he had wandered into the jungle, equipped with nothing more than a knife and a scout blaster, told to return once he felt like a man, with supporting evidence. He had found a suitably overgrown area and settled in to make a plan. Kalto had finally gotten an idea, and built a fire. Soon enough, the fauna was summoned by the light, and the heat, and several smaller creatures came by to investigate. Kalto jumped down from his hiding place in the trees, and slew as many as he could. He found that many were more interested in the carcasses of their fellows, and was able to prolong the attack for several hours by scoring killing blows, and dancing back to watch the beasts begin to devour the slain. After his nose was full of the stink of spilt blood and warm meat and dirty Dxun wildlife, he retreated to his tree again to wait for the other creatures to clear out, so that he could collect his prize. He was surprised, however, to find that the creatures didn't give up so easily. His retreat had attracted attention, combined with the blood that covered his body, and he had the focus of the beasts.
He sat in his tree for several days, until the corpses of his kills began to decay. The stink eventually attracted larger predators, and Kalto decided to add them to his count, jumping down and fighting them as well. When he finally returned to the village, he was dragging the severed heads of many beasts behind him. A question of his honesty prompted several men to follow the bloody trail back to the smoldering fire, and the mountain of beast corpses piled around it.
Zev, liking the idea of a mountain of corpses to proclaim his skill, went to look for his father's slaughter site. Not surprisingly, there was no evidence to Kalto's story, as the jungle quickly erased it. However, he was able to find evidence of another kind. Zev, during his wandering, came across a few unusual tracks. Curious, he followed them, eventually finding a makeshift camp in the jungle. The foliage had been crudely cut back, in such a way that the young warrior knew it would return shortly. However, it wasn't the deforestation that interested him. It wasn't even the camp, although that was an indication that he had found what he was looking for. After a quick peek, Zev found that no one was home. However, the fire pit was warm, there was a strongbox in the larger of three tents, and there were a few days worth of rations in each shelter. This, he decided, was the opportune coincidence. He quickly erased what sign of his presence there was, not that he thought the occupants of the camp would notice if he hadn't, and scaled a tree that leaned over the camp. He grabbed what moss and bark and leaves he could, and rubbed it over himself, until he was dirty enough to blend into the environment. He would have preferred a stealth field generator, but his natural camouflage worked just as well.
After a day of waiting, he was rewarded with the arrival of his prey, three hunters and two droids. He decided to take the droids out first.
When night fell, Zev climbed down from his tree, crawling on his stomach over to the droid on watch, having already verified that the second was idle. He drew his knife, sprang into the droids field of view, and plunged the blade into its vocabulator, disabling its under-appreciated ability to alert its owners to the presence of an intruder. He then went to work tearing it to pieces, knocking it to the ground and disarming it, tossing the blaster rifle into the darkness as he reached for a rock, which he used to cave in the machines head. After the first clanker was taken care of, Zev simply walked over to the other, and twisted its head off, placing it in front of the largest tent, which faced out into the jungle. A good psychological blow, when the hunters noticed it. His first task done, Zev once again retreated up his tree, to wait again, now armed with a blaster rifle.
The next morning, Zev rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a grin at the cacophony that was coming from below. The hunters were surprised, to say the least, that their droids had been destroyed without waking them. After a brief examination, they were shocked to find that the droids had been taken out with maximum efficiency, the first having had its vocabulator destroyed, thus allowing the assailant to beat it into scrap at his leisure. Zev hadn't thought of it that way, but that's what the hunters had come up with. They quickly began debating whether or not they should have cut their expedition short, and Zev tensed himself to drop in and kill them immediately. However, they soon decided that credits and reputations were more important than droids, and stayed, venturing out again.
When the hunters returned, they were dragging a small cage, with a captive boma inside.
At least... Zev had thought, They weren't entirely unsuccessful on their last hunting trip...
When night came again, one hunter was left on watch, with the promise of relief in a few hours. Zev saw a prime opportunity to strike, and crawled out onto his branch until it began to bend, before swinging down and dropping silently to the ground, crouched low to the dirt like the predator he was. He crept forward and drew his knife, planning on switching to the vibrosword that hung at the hunters' waist once he had taken him out.
Acting quickly, Zev cupped his hand over the tired hunters mouth and snapped his neck. The knife wasn't for the kill, it had another purpose. Zev lowered the dead hunter to the ground and stripped him of his equipment, leaving him naked in the dirt. He quickly stabbed his knife into the corpse, right through the sternum, displaying his strength by penetrating the thick bone. After hiding the gear beneath another tree, Zev dragged the corpse over to the fire, shoving the man into the blaze and retreating again as the smell of burning flesh began wafting throughout the camp.
Zev had barely settled when the second watch, a zabrak woman, came out into the open. He could see her freeze at the sight of the corpse in the fire, and decided to intervene before she attracted the attention of the other hunter. He whistled to get her attention, then jumped her. He had ten feet to gain enough velocity to kill her on contact, but he didn't manage it. Instead, he drove her to the ground, holding her mouth shut, and slit her throat. After she bled out, Zev stood and turned towards the large tent. He stripped the woman in the same way, and she soon joined the first man on the pyre. Zev didn't have to wait long before the last man emerged. This time, he hadn't even climbed the tree. Now, he was waiting right next to the tent flap. The man identified the fire first, and the bodies that were now engulfed in flame. He ran forward to investigate, and Zev followed close, vibrosword in hand.
"I'm sure the beasts will thank me." Zev said, smiling. Since he, like the many before him, went without armor for the verd'goten, it was visible to the shocked man. The innocent cheer in his expression threw the man off for a second, but it didn't last. The hunter drew his own blade. Not the smartest move he could have made. Blades clashed for a moment, until Zev pirouetted into a counter, and swept the feet out from under the man. He stood up, placed one foot on the flat of his sword, and used the other to kick the man in the temple. The hard boot broke bone, and the force effectively pulped the mans brain.
When Zev returned with the outfits, weapons, and burnt skulls of all three, he was recognized as a warrior, and his father publicly wished for a recording of the event.
Conflict
Already examples of physical excellence, Zev and Voël, both sixteen years old, were out hunting when they were attacked by a zakkeg. Both of the young warriors, seeing an opportunity to gain even more renown, decided to take it down. After a violent battle, which ended with Voël being knocked back into a tree, and Zev stuffing a thermal detonator down the beast’s throat, the zakkeg was dead. After determining that Voël was still alive, Zev set to removing their trophies, ears for proof, and some of its hide, a personal preference of Zev so that he might make a garment out of it (he had already done the same to bomas, maalraas, and a drexl he had taken down with Voël and his father). When Voël’s senses returned to him, he saw Zev working away at the zakkeg, and thought he was taking the glory for himself. The first indication Zev got that Voël was awake was a pair of blaster shots to his back. The pain was extraordinary, and the third shot would have killed him, if Zev hadn’t turned enough to put his heart out of the path of the shot. Wounded, betrayed, and surprised, Zev had to think for a moment before he reacted appropriately. Voël had drawn first blood, and Zev was never one to let a grudge grow. He drew his own blaster, for the purpose of disarming Voël. He wanted the duel to be personal. A shot ruined Voël’s blaster, and as soon as he had drawn, Zev was all over him.
When Zev returned to base, he carried both the ears and hide of the zakkeg, but also the ruined body of Voël. When questioned, Zev told the others that Voël had been slain by the zakkeg. When questioned about the sword wounds, Zev declined to comment. Not ones to question an elite warrior, the others let it die.
After Dxun
When Zev was seventeen, he had packed his things, and taken a ship to Concord Dawn, the location from which he had been recruited by the Militia. After two years of service, he was given a test, and assigned to Special Ops, under General Bane. As the new guy, Zev was happy enough to be quiet and take orders. He specializes in sneaking up behind humanoid opponents, silencing them, and leaving little indication of what killed them. His preferred method of execution is sliding his blade between collarbone and scapula, down into the torso, and through the heart. Second favorite is the simple pull to the ground, followed by a sharp kick to the temple. By the time he was set to join the General's squad, he had reached the rank of Specialist.
Early Career
Zev wasn't fortunate enough to see any major conflicts. However, he did participate in a few skirmishes, and he was famous for being in the right place at the right time, and getting involved in cantina fights.
After his first battle, Zev was drinking with a few mates, which led to a bit of a political debate between the Mandalorians and the local know-it-all's. Needless to say, the Mandalorians were in no mood to discuss their reasons for doing what they did best. More specifically, they didn't appreciate being abused by the locals, who didn't even have the honor to fight themselves. So, they subtly goaded the other cantina patrons into violence.
"Yeah? Well, your women don't complain about our methods." Were the choice words that had been offered. Zev thought it was funny. The locals, in simple terms, didn't know how to take a joke. Words soon turned to fists, and they were thrown about the room violently.
Zev quickly took the lead in the fight, showing his prowess in finishing fights quickly. He grabbed a pair of assailants around the necks, squeezing them into submission as he threw a kick at a third patron who might not have been as dangerous as Zev would later claim. He needed some excuse, because the effect was very much worth the effort. The man he kicked took the blow in the face, and flipped backwards onto a table, which broke and sent the man rolling into the legs of another attacker, who fell flat on his face after tripping over his friend.
After having himself a quick laugh, Zev spun the two men in his arms around and shoved them headfirst into a wall, knocking them out. Another man was flipped onto his back, and another was simply punched in the face.
The Mandalorians left the cantina, most of the patrons (a few of whom might not have been among the attackers) were unconscious, or wishing that they were.
After their little vacation, Zev's squad mates were sent off to another warzone, which would be more involved than the first, and give Zev an opportunity to demonstrate his talents.
RP Sample:
Zakkeg/Voël Slayer
Zev woke up and stretched, rubbing his eyes and yawning to start the day. He looked around his room, the dimly illuminated area that he inhabited for less than eight hours a day. He slept for six, and spent an hour before and after to change, write in his journal, and tinker with his armor. The area was no more than ten by ten feet, and the ceiling was only seven feet high. Not the roomiest of places, but it was appropriately sized for the amount of time Zev spent inside. The bedroll he was lying on took up a corner, and the workbench he had acquired took up the opposite end of the room. His closet, which held his homemade trophies, stood at the center of the wall opposite his door. Now, he wore only his gray bodysuit, but he was considering the green boma fatigues in the closet.
Standing up, Zev moved his chin-length, dark brown hair out of his eyes and cracked his neck. Deciding that green, gray, and purple weren’t great color choices for hunting, he opted for his armor, as the dark gray and bronze color scheme a bit easier to disguise. Moving with speed born of practice, Zev outfitted himself and grabbed his hunting gear, the simple, ultrachrome longsword, and the slugthrower machine pistol he had been given for his fifteenth birthday. Once he was equipped, he left the room, helmet cradled in his left arm, and searched the kitchen for some of the gal he had traded for the day before. He took a mug and drank as he left the house, nodding goodbye to his parents as they finished their morning meal. Zev didn’t eat breakfast, opting instead for the ration tabs in a pouch on his belt.
“Zev!” Voël shouted, jogging to catch up to him. Zev stopped and turned around, spotting Voël quickly, by his dark gray armor and his spiky blond hair. Once Voël had reached Zev, they exchanged an affectionate punch to the arm of the other, before turning and heading towards the gates. Donning their helmets, they were permitted to leave, and soon made their way towards their preferred hunting ground.
“What’re you gunnin’ for, mate? A cannok for you dresser?” Voël asked, his voice coming out with a hiss through his helmets voice modulator. Zev smirked and shook his head.
“Nah, their hides look terrible. It wouldn’t go with anything. I’m thinking about another maalraas. Maybe I can trade the teeth for some gal.” Zev replied, checking his HUD for movement.
“Oh, yeah. Should’ve thought of that. I bet a zakkeg would be nice, eh?” Voël muttered, shouldering his carbine.
“Sure would. But why mention it?” Zev asked. An earsplitting roar shook him, and he knew why Voël had been so specific. Before he had time to react, Zev was knocked to the ground by the charging beast. He rolled to his feet and shouldered his carbine, joining Voël in firing at the beast. Of course, they both knew that their small arms were next to useless against the zakkeg, but the temptation of the glory that killing it would bring was too great to resist. So, they continued to fire.
After his first clip ran dry, Zev backed away to reload, taking a moment after slapping in the new magazine to survey the surroundings. They were in a recently cleared path, made to expand the territory a week before, and the zakkeg was tearing more foliage from the ground with each strike that missed its target. Namely, Zev and Voël. There were a few low hanging branches, but Zev didn’t want to take the time to climb upwards enough to get an opportunity for continuous fire on the beast. Checking his belt, Zev muttered his thanks to whatever deities there were that he had a few thermal detonators there. A plan formed in his mind, and he put away his carbine. He ran at the beast while its back was turned, paused as it prepared to swing at Voël, and hesitated as it struck him in the chest, sending him flying back into the jungle.
Alone now, Zev turned towards the branches he had seen earlier, and made a run for it. He jumped up, and climbed up a bit, before drawing his machine pistol and emptying the clip at the zakkeg. It roared at him again, and moved to attack. It was then that Zev dropped down to its open jaws, thermal detonator in hand. His tactic surprised the beast, and it didn’t register that he was within biting distance before Zev thumbed the detonator active, and shoved it into the monsters esophagus. His trick in effect, Zev dropped to the ground and ran back a few yards, kneeling down and waiting. The blast tore the zakkeg apart from the inside, and it died in a pool of blood and gore.
Once the zakkeg’s death rattle died off in a whimper, Zev glanced over at Voël, who was groaning on his back against the trunk of a tree. He was still alive, which meant that the hunting trip was successful. Seeing no need to rush Voël, Zev drew his hunting knife and worked at sawing through the zakkeg’s ears. By the time Zev got to cutting away some of its hide, Voël had gotten to his feet, and descended into rage. There was his rival, fully intending to steal all of the glory! Voël would have none of it. So, not thinking clearly, he drew his blaster pistol, the rifle having been broken by the zakkeg’s attack.
Zev had just finished cutting away a square of hide, and was peeling it away from the muscle when the first shot hit him, square in the back, and knocked him onto the carcass. Surprise allowed a scream of pain to force its way out. The second shot hit him a few inches below the first, and made him roll over the dead zakkeg. He rolled over to face his attacker, and he turned to reach for his own backup pistol. A third shot hit him in the sternum, and knocked him flat.
“Haar’chak! Aruetyc hut’uun!” Zev snarled, bringing up his pistol and taking what was arguably the most impossible shot made-accurate-by-fury in history. The blaster bolt hit Voël’s weapon and destroyed it, sending shrapnel and useless components flying. Growling, Voël drew his vibrosword, only to be knocked to the ground by Zev’s first attack, a jump-kick that connected with his face. Once he got up, Zev drove him back with his attacks, making several cuts in his armor as Voël was unable to parry them all. Soon, Voël had his back up against a tree, and Zev could only assume he had fear in his eyes. With a quick combination of attacks, Zev knocked the blade from Voël’s hands, and pressed the edge of his ultrachrome blade to his throat.
“Wait, I didn’t mean to-” Voël started, only to be cut short by Zev hitting his throat with the flat of his blade. As Voël choked, Zev grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him to the ground, forcing him to his knees and pulling off his helmet. He gripped his hair and pulled his head back.
“Cetar...” Zev growled.
“Ni ceta...” Voël begged, seeing Zev position his blade by his neck.
“Skira. Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, osi’yaim...” Zev whispered, driving the blade slowly and purposefully into the space between his shoulderblade and collarbone. Voël screamed as Zev pushed the blade further, showing no mercy for the betrayer, taking his time to reach the heart. When he finally pierced the heart, Zev let go of the blade and walked around to look into Voël’s eyes. He said nothing, just watched the life leave his brother’s eyes.
When Voël was dead, Zev pressed a bit of cloth to the entry wound, and withdrew his sword. The cloth soaked up the blood as it escaped, and little evidence remained as to just how Voël had been killed. When Zev returned to the camp, he carried his friend in his arms, and his trophies over his shoulders.
Department: Special Ops
Rank: Specialist
Name: Zev Huldig
Race: Human
Age: 19
Height: 5’10”
Weight: 160 lbs.
Appearance:
Zev seems more suited to ranged combat, by the looks of him. He is of average height and weight, but he is lightly built, with most of his strength in his legs and core. He is still stronger than the average human, due to his training, but he is somewhat beneath the typical Mandalorian level. However, as he grows, he continues to become stronger. He has medium length dark brown hair, which he generally keeps parted down the middle, so his vision isn’t sketchy when he puts his helmet on. His eyes are steel gray, and are deceptively cheerful. He is clean shaven, and his face is usually set in a youthful expression of interest. His body carries a number of scars that any Mandalorian would be proud of, most of them resulting from training and life in the jungles of Dxun. Most notable, however, are the trio of laser burns he carries, two of which are on his back, and another on his right pectoral muscle. His armor has been customized and tinkered with numerous times since he came to possess it, but it shines like new. The blast-dampening cloth that covers his skintight bodysuit is dark gray, and the armor plates are bronze and dark gray, as is the traditional kama he wears. He has a black mythosaur tattoo on his left shoulder, and Mando’a phrases above and below. Above, it reads “Darasuum Verda” or “Eternal Warriors.” Below, “Shereshoy.” There is also a scarification on his left forearm that reads “Verd ori'shya beskar'gam” or “A warrior is more than his armor.” When not wearing his traditional Mandalorian armor, Zev is wearing one of his trophy outfits, made from the hides of beasts he has killed on Dxun, or simple military fatigues.
Birthplace: Dxun
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 6
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 7
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 5
Melee Weapons: 6
Ranged Weapons: 5
Alignment: +2
Bio:
Pre-Conception
Kalto Huldig wasn’t the best warrior around. He wasn’t the worst, but he certainly wasn’t the best. In fact, his skills were so average, that he seemed not to exist at all in the small Dxun settlement. At times, he would regret being born into Mandalorian culture. He knew that, if he had been a part of the Republic or Empire, he would be seen as a highly skilled warrior. But, alas, it was not so. He spent much of his time trying (and failing) to improve himself. He seemed to be stuck in a rut.
So, he was completely surprised to be put in charge of a small scouting party at the age of twenty.
The previous commander had died of complications after being dragged back to base on a stretcher. He had suffered from tripwire-causing-plasma-mines-to-detonate related injuries. But that’s neither here nor there.
The point is, Kalto was in charge, and he was quickly put out into the field, with a final, firm warning to watch his step.
After a few months, nothing seemed to be out of place. Kalto had done as he was told, and had yet to set off any booby-traps. At least, he often thought, he was skilled in self-preservation through awareness. It seemed as if nothing important were ever going to happen to him. Then, he met the mir’sheb who would eventually be his wife.
Kalto was scouting the perimeter of the settlement one day, when a meteor hit the ground a few kilometers out. To say that Kalto didn't want to check the crash site would be an understatement. But, it was his duty, so he had no choice, and grudgingly made his way into the jungle. When he got to the impact site, he found that it was not a meteor as he had expected, but a starship. After poking around a bit, they found that a few members of the crew had survived. Two men, a woman, and a droid. The party quickly restrained the survivors, and transported them (along with weapons and valuables, obviously) back to base. It was there, after dealing with the survivors (two of which were adopted through the gai bal manda shortly after), that Kalto met Zev’s future mother, Manna Haat.
Zev’s parents weren’t a typical match. First of all, they hated each other longer than they were together. In fact, the first time his mother touched his father, it was to punch him in the face. Nonetheless, they eventually overcame their dislike and married, conceiving Zev shortly after.
Youth
When Zev was born, there was much that was expected of him. As one of the few children, he would be given great attention and more strict training. As was customary, he spent the first few years of his life being raised by his mother. However, due to his fathers feelings that he wasn’t a proper teacher (remember the mediocre-I mean average skill mentioned earlier?), after age three, he was taught by the clan as a whole. By age five, he was friends with another youth named Voël. They were competitive, yet friendly. In all their training, they strove to outperform each other, congratulating each other when one was victorious.
During Zev's upbringing, most of his parent's attitudes rubbed off on him. Since they had an initially unromantic relationship, their humor often turned sarcastic. This trait became one of those that Zev would be most known for, after his excellent skill, of course. His mother often fussed over his physical appearance, stating that it was a miracle she had been attracted to his father, considering his general neglect for his grooming. The dreadlocked, unshaven man took no offense, but Zev could always see the indignation in his eyes.
When he was six, Zev got 'the talk' from his father, who still thought he was a bad teacher for his son. Zev would later refer to this event as "the ruination of interest in the fairer sex" among friends. The mans descriptions were so badly punctuated with embarrassment and shame that Zev actually laughed at him. Several times. When he told Voël about this, he was confused. Zev explained with a simple statement, and an expression imitating that of his father's.
"It's n-n-natural to wonder what's underneath the armor." Zev mimicked, summoning a fierce, sweaty blush and pretending to cough into his fist, averting his eyes.
Needless to say, Zev planned on having someone else explain reproduction to his children, if he ever had any. Maybe the mother. Or maybe he would just never bring it up, and leave it to his offspring to figure it out for themselves.
For the next few years, he and Voël would develop inside jokes about the various personalities around camp. In order to make them easier to tell, they would also make corresponding gestures. This, of course, made their eventual 'separation' more difficult for Zev. It's no fun to make an inside joke when you're the only one inside.
Voël's Grudge
At age ten, Zev and Voël were nearly inseparable. They fought together, trained together, and hunted together. They were like brothers. However, the beginnings of a schism were visible when Zev turned thirteen, several months before Voël. Zev was expected to complete his verd’goten or coming of age, by the time Voël turned thirteen. He did it in half the time, and became a warrior. By the time both were fourteen, Voël was bitter that Zev had reached warrior status before he had, and was thus given more respect. It also didn't help his self-confidence that for his verd'goten, he had resorted to requesting a trial from the warriors. He had been victorious in a handful of rounds in the dueling ring, but he wished for something more exciting. Zev's verd'goten had been the talk of the camp for weeks, but he had insisted that it was simple luck. In Voël’s opinion, Zev had taken his glory. This would fester for several years, until both were sixteen.
Coming of Age
The verd'goten itself was a simple matter for Zev. When he was thirteen, he asked his father what he had done for his trial. Kalto didn't have a great tale to tell, but he gave his son some ideas.
Kalto told him that he had wandered into the jungle, equipped with nothing more than a knife and a scout blaster, told to return once he felt like a man, with supporting evidence. He had found a suitably overgrown area and settled in to make a plan. Kalto had finally gotten an idea, and built a fire. Soon enough, the fauna was summoned by the light, and the heat, and several smaller creatures came by to investigate. Kalto jumped down from his hiding place in the trees, and slew as many as he could. He found that many were more interested in the carcasses of their fellows, and was able to prolong the attack for several hours by scoring killing blows, and dancing back to watch the beasts begin to devour the slain. After his nose was full of the stink of spilt blood and warm meat and dirty Dxun wildlife, he retreated to his tree again to wait for the other creatures to clear out, so that he could collect his prize. He was surprised, however, to find that the creatures didn't give up so easily. His retreat had attracted attention, combined with the blood that covered his body, and he had the focus of the beasts.
He sat in his tree for several days, until the corpses of his kills began to decay. The stink eventually attracted larger predators, and Kalto decided to add them to his count, jumping down and fighting them as well. When he finally returned to the village, he was dragging the severed heads of many beasts behind him. A question of his honesty prompted several men to follow the bloody trail back to the smoldering fire, and the mountain of beast corpses piled around it.
Zev, liking the idea of a mountain of corpses to proclaim his skill, went to look for his father's slaughter site. Not surprisingly, there was no evidence to Kalto's story, as the jungle quickly erased it. However, he was able to find evidence of another kind. Zev, during his wandering, came across a few unusual tracks. Curious, he followed them, eventually finding a makeshift camp in the jungle. The foliage had been crudely cut back, in such a way that the young warrior knew it would return shortly. However, it wasn't the deforestation that interested him. It wasn't even the camp, although that was an indication that he had found what he was looking for. After a quick peek, Zev found that no one was home. However, the fire pit was warm, there was a strongbox in the larger of three tents, and there were a few days worth of rations in each shelter. This, he decided, was the opportune coincidence. He quickly erased what sign of his presence there was, not that he thought the occupants of the camp would notice if he hadn't, and scaled a tree that leaned over the camp. He grabbed what moss and bark and leaves he could, and rubbed it over himself, until he was dirty enough to blend into the environment. He would have preferred a stealth field generator, but his natural camouflage worked just as well.
After a day of waiting, he was rewarded with the arrival of his prey, three hunters and two droids. He decided to take the droids out first.
When night fell, Zev climbed down from his tree, crawling on his stomach over to the droid on watch, having already verified that the second was idle. He drew his knife, sprang into the droids field of view, and plunged the blade into its vocabulator, disabling its under-appreciated ability to alert its owners to the presence of an intruder. He then went to work tearing it to pieces, knocking it to the ground and disarming it, tossing the blaster rifle into the darkness as he reached for a rock, which he used to cave in the machines head. After the first clanker was taken care of, Zev simply walked over to the other, and twisted its head off, placing it in front of the largest tent, which faced out into the jungle. A good psychological blow, when the hunters noticed it. His first task done, Zev once again retreated up his tree, to wait again, now armed with a blaster rifle.
The next morning, Zev rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a grin at the cacophony that was coming from below. The hunters were surprised, to say the least, that their droids had been destroyed without waking them. After a brief examination, they were shocked to find that the droids had been taken out with maximum efficiency, the first having had its vocabulator destroyed, thus allowing the assailant to beat it into scrap at his leisure. Zev hadn't thought of it that way, but that's what the hunters had come up with. They quickly began debating whether or not they should have cut their expedition short, and Zev tensed himself to drop in and kill them immediately. However, they soon decided that credits and reputations were more important than droids, and stayed, venturing out again.
When the hunters returned, they were dragging a small cage, with a captive boma inside.
At least... Zev had thought, They weren't entirely unsuccessful on their last hunting trip...
When night came again, one hunter was left on watch, with the promise of relief in a few hours. Zev saw a prime opportunity to strike, and crawled out onto his branch until it began to bend, before swinging down and dropping silently to the ground, crouched low to the dirt like the predator he was. He crept forward and drew his knife, planning on switching to the vibrosword that hung at the hunters' waist once he had taken him out.
Acting quickly, Zev cupped his hand over the tired hunters mouth and snapped his neck. The knife wasn't for the kill, it had another purpose. Zev lowered the dead hunter to the ground and stripped him of his equipment, leaving him naked in the dirt. He quickly stabbed his knife into the corpse, right through the sternum, displaying his strength by penetrating the thick bone. After hiding the gear beneath another tree, Zev dragged the corpse over to the fire, shoving the man into the blaze and retreating again as the smell of burning flesh began wafting throughout the camp.
Zev had barely settled when the second watch, a zabrak woman, came out into the open. He could see her freeze at the sight of the corpse in the fire, and decided to intervene before she attracted the attention of the other hunter. He whistled to get her attention, then jumped her. He had ten feet to gain enough velocity to kill her on contact, but he didn't manage it. Instead, he drove her to the ground, holding her mouth shut, and slit her throat. After she bled out, Zev stood and turned towards the large tent. He stripped the woman in the same way, and she soon joined the first man on the pyre. Zev didn't have to wait long before the last man emerged. This time, he hadn't even climbed the tree. Now, he was waiting right next to the tent flap. The man identified the fire first, and the bodies that were now engulfed in flame. He ran forward to investigate, and Zev followed close, vibrosword in hand.
"I'm sure the beasts will thank me." Zev said, smiling. Since he, like the many before him, went without armor for the verd'goten, it was visible to the shocked man. The innocent cheer in his expression threw the man off for a second, but it didn't last. The hunter drew his own blade. Not the smartest move he could have made. Blades clashed for a moment, until Zev pirouetted into a counter, and swept the feet out from under the man. He stood up, placed one foot on the flat of his sword, and used the other to kick the man in the temple. The hard boot broke bone, and the force effectively pulped the mans brain.
When Zev returned with the outfits, weapons, and burnt skulls of all three, he was recognized as a warrior, and his father publicly wished for a recording of the event.
Conflict
Already examples of physical excellence, Zev and Voël, both sixteen years old, were out hunting when they were attacked by a zakkeg. Both of the young warriors, seeing an opportunity to gain even more renown, decided to take it down. After a violent battle, which ended with Voël being knocked back into a tree, and Zev stuffing a thermal detonator down the beast’s throat, the zakkeg was dead. After determining that Voël was still alive, Zev set to removing their trophies, ears for proof, and some of its hide, a personal preference of Zev so that he might make a garment out of it (he had already done the same to bomas, maalraas, and a drexl he had taken down with Voël and his father). When Voël’s senses returned to him, he saw Zev working away at the zakkeg, and thought he was taking the glory for himself. The first indication Zev got that Voël was awake was a pair of blaster shots to his back. The pain was extraordinary, and the third shot would have killed him, if Zev hadn’t turned enough to put his heart out of the path of the shot. Wounded, betrayed, and surprised, Zev had to think for a moment before he reacted appropriately. Voël had drawn first blood, and Zev was never one to let a grudge grow. He drew his own blaster, for the purpose of disarming Voël. He wanted the duel to be personal. A shot ruined Voël’s blaster, and as soon as he had drawn, Zev was all over him.
When Zev returned to base, he carried both the ears and hide of the zakkeg, but also the ruined body of Voël. When questioned, Zev told the others that Voël had been slain by the zakkeg. When questioned about the sword wounds, Zev declined to comment. Not ones to question an elite warrior, the others let it die.
After Dxun
When Zev was seventeen, he had packed his things, and taken a ship to Concord Dawn, the location from which he had been recruited by the Militia. After two years of service, he was given a test, and assigned to Special Ops, under General Bane. As the new guy, Zev was happy enough to be quiet and take orders. He specializes in sneaking up behind humanoid opponents, silencing them, and leaving little indication of what killed them. His preferred method of execution is sliding his blade between collarbone and scapula, down into the torso, and through the heart. Second favorite is the simple pull to the ground, followed by a sharp kick to the temple. By the time he was set to join the General's squad, he had reached the rank of Specialist.
Early Career
Zev wasn't fortunate enough to see any major conflicts. However, he did participate in a few skirmishes, and he was famous for being in the right place at the right time, and getting involved in cantina fights.
After his first battle, Zev was drinking with a few mates, which led to a bit of a political debate between the Mandalorians and the local know-it-all's. Needless to say, the Mandalorians were in no mood to discuss their reasons for doing what they did best. More specifically, they didn't appreciate being abused by the locals, who didn't even have the honor to fight themselves. So, they subtly goaded the other cantina patrons into violence.
"Yeah? Well, your women don't complain about our methods." Were the choice words that had been offered. Zev thought it was funny. The locals, in simple terms, didn't know how to take a joke. Words soon turned to fists, and they were thrown about the room violently.
Zev quickly took the lead in the fight, showing his prowess in finishing fights quickly. He grabbed a pair of assailants around the necks, squeezing them into submission as he threw a kick at a third patron who might not have been as dangerous as Zev would later claim. He needed some excuse, because the effect was very much worth the effort. The man he kicked took the blow in the face, and flipped backwards onto a table, which broke and sent the man rolling into the legs of another attacker, who fell flat on his face after tripping over his friend.
After having himself a quick laugh, Zev spun the two men in his arms around and shoved them headfirst into a wall, knocking them out. Another man was flipped onto his back, and another was simply punched in the face.
The Mandalorians left the cantina, most of the patrons (a few of whom might not have been among the attackers) were unconscious, or wishing that they were.
After their little vacation, Zev's squad mates were sent off to another warzone, which would be more involved than the first, and give Zev an opportunity to demonstrate his talents.
RP Sample:
Zakkeg/Voël Slayer
Zev woke up and stretched, rubbing his eyes and yawning to start the day. He looked around his room, the dimly illuminated area that he inhabited for less than eight hours a day. He slept for six, and spent an hour before and after to change, write in his journal, and tinker with his armor. The area was no more than ten by ten feet, and the ceiling was only seven feet high. Not the roomiest of places, but it was appropriately sized for the amount of time Zev spent inside. The bedroll he was lying on took up a corner, and the workbench he had acquired took up the opposite end of the room. His closet, which held his homemade trophies, stood at the center of the wall opposite his door. Now, he wore only his gray bodysuit, but he was considering the green boma fatigues in the closet.
Standing up, Zev moved his chin-length, dark brown hair out of his eyes and cracked his neck. Deciding that green, gray, and purple weren’t great color choices for hunting, he opted for his armor, as the dark gray and bronze color scheme a bit easier to disguise. Moving with speed born of practice, Zev outfitted himself and grabbed his hunting gear, the simple, ultrachrome longsword, and the slugthrower machine pistol he had been given for his fifteenth birthday. Once he was equipped, he left the room, helmet cradled in his left arm, and searched the kitchen for some of the gal he had traded for the day before. He took a mug and drank as he left the house, nodding goodbye to his parents as they finished their morning meal. Zev didn’t eat breakfast, opting instead for the ration tabs in a pouch on his belt.
“Zev!” Voël shouted, jogging to catch up to him. Zev stopped and turned around, spotting Voël quickly, by his dark gray armor and his spiky blond hair. Once Voël had reached Zev, they exchanged an affectionate punch to the arm of the other, before turning and heading towards the gates. Donning their helmets, they were permitted to leave, and soon made their way towards their preferred hunting ground.
“What’re you gunnin’ for, mate? A cannok for you dresser?” Voël asked, his voice coming out with a hiss through his helmets voice modulator. Zev smirked and shook his head.
“Nah, their hides look terrible. It wouldn’t go with anything. I’m thinking about another maalraas. Maybe I can trade the teeth for some gal.” Zev replied, checking his HUD for movement.
“Oh, yeah. Should’ve thought of that. I bet a zakkeg would be nice, eh?” Voël muttered, shouldering his carbine.
“Sure would. But why mention it?” Zev asked. An earsplitting roar shook him, and he knew why Voël had been so specific. Before he had time to react, Zev was knocked to the ground by the charging beast. He rolled to his feet and shouldered his carbine, joining Voël in firing at the beast. Of course, they both knew that their small arms were next to useless against the zakkeg, but the temptation of the glory that killing it would bring was too great to resist. So, they continued to fire.
After his first clip ran dry, Zev backed away to reload, taking a moment after slapping in the new magazine to survey the surroundings. They were in a recently cleared path, made to expand the territory a week before, and the zakkeg was tearing more foliage from the ground with each strike that missed its target. Namely, Zev and Voël. There were a few low hanging branches, but Zev didn’t want to take the time to climb upwards enough to get an opportunity for continuous fire on the beast. Checking his belt, Zev muttered his thanks to whatever deities there were that he had a few thermal detonators there. A plan formed in his mind, and he put away his carbine. He ran at the beast while its back was turned, paused as it prepared to swing at Voël, and hesitated as it struck him in the chest, sending him flying back into the jungle.
Alone now, Zev turned towards the branches he had seen earlier, and made a run for it. He jumped up, and climbed up a bit, before drawing his machine pistol and emptying the clip at the zakkeg. It roared at him again, and moved to attack. It was then that Zev dropped down to its open jaws, thermal detonator in hand. His tactic surprised the beast, and it didn’t register that he was within biting distance before Zev thumbed the detonator active, and shoved it into the monsters esophagus. His trick in effect, Zev dropped to the ground and ran back a few yards, kneeling down and waiting. The blast tore the zakkeg apart from the inside, and it died in a pool of blood and gore.
Once the zakkeg’s death rattle died off in a whimper, Zev glanced over at Voël, who was groaning on his back against the trunk of a tree. He was still alive, which meant that the hunting trip was successful. Seeing no need to rush Voël, Zev drew his hunting knife and worked at sawing through the zakkeg’s ears. By the time Zev got to cutting away some of its hide, Voël had gotten to his feet, and descended into rage. There was his rival, fully intending to steal all of the glory! Voël would have none of it. So, not thinking clearly, he drew his blaster pistol, the rifle having been broken by the zakkeg’s attack.
Zev had just finished cutting away a square of hide, and was peeling it away from the muscle when the first shot hit him, square in the back, and knocked him onto the carcass. Surprise allowed a scream of pain to force its way out. The second shot hit him a few inches below the first, and made him roll over the dead zakkeg. He rolled over to face his attacker, and he turned to reach for his own backup pistol. A third shot hit him in the sternum, and knocked him flat.
“Haar’chak! Aruetyc hut’uun!” Zev snarled, bringing up his pistol and taking what was arguably the most impossible shot made-accurate-by-fury in history. The blaster bolt hit Voël’s weapon and destroyed it, sending shrapnel and useless components flying. Growling, Voël drew his vibrosword, only to be knocked to the ground by Zev’s first attack, a jump-kick that connected with his face. Once he got up, Zev drove him back with his attacks, making several cuts in his armor as Voël was unable to parry them all. Soon, Voël had his back up against a tree, and Zev could only assume he had fear in his eyes. With a quick combination of attacks, Zev knocked the blade from Voël’s hands, and pressed the edge of his ultrachrome blade to his throat.
“Wait, I didn’t mean to-” Voël started, only to be cut short by Zev hitting his throat with the flat of his blade. As Voël choked, Zev grabbed him by the shoulder and threw him to the ground, forcing him to his knees and pulling off his helmet. He gripped his hair and pulled his head back.
“Cetar...” Zev growled.
“Ni ceta...” Voël begged, seeing Zev position his blade by his neck.
“Skira. Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, osi’yaim...” Zev whispered, driving the blade slowly and purposefully into the space between his shoulderblade and collarbone. Voël screamed as Zev pushed the blade further, showing no mercy for the betrayer, taking his time to reach the heart. When he finally pierced the heart, Zev let go of the blade and walked around to look into Voël’s eyes. He said nothing, just watched the life leave his brother’s eyes.
When Voël was dead, Zev pressed a bit of cloth to the entry wound, and withdrew his sword. The cloth soaked up the blood as it escaped, and little evidence remained as to just how Voël had been killed. When Zev returned to the camp, he carried his friend in his arms, and his trophies over his shoulders.
- Darasuum Verda = Eternal Warriors
- Shereshoy = Lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it. An understandable state of mind/ emotion for a warrior people. Closely related to the words for live, hunt and stay safe - and, of course "oya". All from the same root.
- Verd ori'shya beskar'gam = A warrior is more than his armor
- mir’sheb = Smartass
- Haar’chak! Aruetyc hut’uun! = Damn it! Traitorous coward!
- Cetar... = Kneel in submission (from boot - as in licking someone's boots)
- Ni ceta... = sorry (lit: I kneel) grovelling apology - rare
- Skira = settling scores, revenge. feud (different to vengeance - more personal)
- Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum = Daily remembrance of those passed on "I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal." Followed by repetition of loved ones' names.
- Osi’yaim = Useless, despicable person
