Post by Zenn on Dec 13, 2009 17:28:02 GMT -5
Password: Ysalamir
Name: Vik Vandregas
Race: Human
Age: 20
Height: 6’2"
Weight: 160 lbs
Appearance: Lean and athletic, the hard labour of a farmer’s life giving him a well-toned physique, Vik possesses hard grey eyes that hide his easiness of character and friendly demeanour. His flat, relatively long hair, naturally brown, is dyed black with a silver streak. He bears the blank tattoo of a new Dantooine Liberation Army member upon his lower back at the base of his spine.
He is usually seen in loose-fitting, casual garb, his wardrobe little more than a collection of generic shirts and pants of durable woven cotton and three pairs of hardy, broken-in boots, but hidden beneath the nondescript surface lies a hidden set of armour; a cotton vest and leggings with thin plates of durasteel woven into them. His weapons are always on his person; a pair of underarm scabbards for his throwing knives, a hip holster for his slugthrower pistol and a belt-mounted drop scabbard for his utility knife. His blaster rifle is usually slung onto his back.
Birth place: Dantooine
Occupation: Farmer / Freedom fighter
Rank: Soldier / Sniper
Bio:
The only child of Varrak and Sara Vandregas, Vik was born and raised on his parents’ small farm a few miles northwest of Farmstead Kylah. Varrak, a Corellian and a former bounty hunter, had settled into a simple life on Dantooine after a badly handled hit led him to abandon his materialistic, almost meaningless existence. He used the impressive wealth he’d accrued over the years to set up a small farm and fended for himself, selling the majority of his crops to make his money and hunting for his food. It was here that he met Sara, a human woman from another settlement, and the two hit it off quite nicely. After three years of dating they married, Sara moving onto Varrack’s small farm. Varrack began hunting wild animals that damaged other farmers’ land in return for small payments as a means of making extra money, and this, coupled with the profit being made from his crops, allowed he and his wife to expand the farm, buying up new land for livestock and more crops.
They had a single plan with this new income; starting a family. And start a family they did. Four years after their marriage, the farm’s new facilities bringing in even more money, Vik was born. A healthy boy with his mother’s eyes, he grew up to develop his father’s physique. From an early age the boy took a keen interest in Varrack’s work, often observing as his father sowed seeds and harvested crops but unable to help as much as he'd like; primarily because his schoolwork took up much of his time, and because there wasn't much he could do to help in any significant way. He was relatively withdrawn, seeing no need to spend much of his time away from home, and this reservation carried over into his school life; he was quiet but studious, focusing only on his work.
That insignificance as far as his working capabilities was soon done away with as Vik grew older. From about six onwards he was believed by his parents to be old enough to begin learning the proper ways of the farm. He was taught how to perform some of the less intensive chores, spending most of his free time assisting his mother around the house or helping his father in the fields in some small way such as planting seeds or watering individual plants, but year after year his ability to handle more physically and intellectually demanding jobs increased. He began working for longer periods of time, often to the point where he'd spend a whole day sowing large portions of his father's fields on his own.
He was ten when he completed his first large-scale solo task; sowing an entire field, one of the biggest on Varrack's land, with cotton seeds. It had taken him three days to finish the work, and Varrack had insisted upon giving him no help except instructing him in how best to plant the seeds and observing his work from afar, but he'd eventually finished and was rewarded with a week off and the immense pride of his ever-caring parents.
For a long time this milestone accomplishment gave Vik great confidence in his abilities, and his work on the farm took on a new level of technical skill as he spent more and more of his time learning the finer points of the tasks he undertook. Yet for an even longer time Vik had his own workload to deal with before even thinking about his father's; school. Balancing his studies with his work around the home and on the farm was no easy task, leaving the boy little time for socialising, especially since his responsibilities on the farm had only increased as he'd grown older and become able to take on progressively more demanding jobs.
Perhaps, however, he brought this upon himself; his studies had shown a developing interest in the sciences, and some of the time that could have been spent making friends was spent, of his own accord, perusing the occasional encyclopaedia. Still, for the time being Varrack was capable of handling the farm on his own if need be and Vik soon developed something of a schedule as a means of balancing his free time between meeting friends and offering his parents some help. Less and less of his time was invested in the textbooks, which he began reading only occasionally when he needed to look something up or had nothing else to do, and that time was instead spent as any child should spend their idle hours; with his friends. "The gang", as they called themselves, were his closest friends; a group of seven including Vik that had come together a year or so ago, they did almost everything together when they had time on their hands. Whenever Vik found himself with the odd precious days off, often at his father's insistence, he usually knew where to find the others and what he'd do with that free time. This schedule of sorts served the young farmer well for the year and a half until his thirteenth birthday and the many years beyond.
As Vik grew, so did his knowledge of the farm’s workings. Puberty worked in concert with his life of labour to condition a flawless body for the young boy, and with his growing physical and mental capacities he began taking on more complex tasks, learning how to operate machinery like harvesters on his own and even maintaining his father's weapons, and had Varrack teach him how to use a firearm and other weapons so that he could help hunt for food and money. The man bought him a mid-calibre slugthrower pistol, a finely crafted utility knife and a set of throwing daggers, and over the course of the better part of five years he learned to wield these weapons with astounding efficiency.
The pistol was expensive to run compared to the blaster, as is the case with all slugthrower weapons owing to the relative rarity and subsequent high cost of ammunition, but it was much easier to maintain and produced much cleaner hunting kills than the rifle; it was these two facts which drew Vik to it and ensured it saw continued use despite the greater expense. Occasionally he would go out on his own with his father’s blaster rifle (Varrack’s weapon of choice as a bounty hunter) at Varrack's request as a means of testing himself, but despite the superior range and power of the rifle it was clumsy at the close ranges he was used to and he much preferred the speed and ease of use offered by his ever trusty pistol. And should the pistol ever jam - as it was prone to do when he'd been slack in cleaning it - he always had his knives to fall back on. On numerous occasions having his throwing daggers on him had allowed him to secure a kill when the pistol jammed or he didn't have time to reload.
It was at the age of seventeen that Vik completed his first successful hunt, downing a skittish iriaz. He'd approached silently at first, intending to kill the creature with his pistol, but been spotted at the last second and had his aim thrown somewhat by the distraction as he opened fire. The iriaz, wounded by the shot but still able to run, turned on the boy and charged him to create an opening in which to flee. Expecting it to run, Vik had holstered the pistol as the iriaz came screeching at him. Panicked by this unexpected attack, he barely rolled clear of the charging iriaz and drew the blaster rifle; turning on the spot, he spared only a moment to peer down the sight at the iriaz as it turned and ran before he squeezed the trigger. His shot was well-placed, sinking into the beast's neck and killing it almost instantly. Kicking himself for his stupidity but glad he was unharmed, he called his father in to get the body back home. In retrospect the boy didn't think all that much of the rifle, finding it a tad unwieldy at such close range. But he continued to use it, seeing its real virtues on numerous occasions and keeping his pistol close and loaded should he need it.
However, come his nineteenth birthday he came to truly appreciate the rifle’s superior destructive power - but at the expense of his parents’ lives. A wild pack of horned kath hounds had been irritating a local farmer, a friend of the family named Kaan, for some time, but the last straw came when his young daughter wandered outside one evening and they mauled her to death. Without the skill or weaponry to deal with the beasts, he hired Varrack to slay them. The ex-bounty hunter brought his son on the hunt, and between them they tracked down and killed the wild hounds with no real trouble. But they would suffer their fair share of heartbreak; when they returned from the grateful farmer’s homestead after collecting their fee, the two hunters found that a smaller pack had attacked their own home. Realising Sara was alone with the canine menaces, they rushed in, weapons ready, to save her.
When they entered the living room they were met with the sight of an incapacitated hound bleeding out from a large stab wound to the side of its neck. A trail of the crimson liquid led from the kitchen, and they followed it in to see Sara lying on the floor, her face and arms torn and lacerated, a bloodstained knife clutched loosely in her hand. Two other hounds stood watch around her, both with bloodied mouths and claws; low, guttural growls escaping their throats as they closed in on their prey. Varrack raised his rifle, sinking a pair of bolts into the hound nearest to his maimed wife, and the remaining dog turned upon him with alarming speed and pounced. Clawing his face as it leapt at him, knocking him to the floor, the dog spared only a moment to sink its teeth into the helpless hunter and tear out his throat before turning on Vik. Terrified, the teen raised his pistol and got off a single round before the hound came at him. The bullet sank into its shoulder, drawing a yelp of pain from the beast, but did not slow it; rather, it leapt at the teen with a renewed ferocity. He stepped back, just out of its reach, but it bashed his pistol out of his hand with a swipe of its broad paw. The adrenaline-fuelled Vik was quick to react, sidestepping the hound and darting for his father’s body. Wrenching the blaster rifle out of Varrack’s hand, the boy turned on his heels just in time to fire on the hound twice as it charged again. The two bolts ripped into the beast’s head, killing it instantly, and it slumped pathetically to the floor before it could reach him.
It took a moment for the rush of adrenaline to subside, and only then did Vik realise his parents were dead. His survival instincts gave way to a great knife of sorrow that plunged into his heart and the boy broke down, crying over the mangled corpses of his dear mother and father. He spent the rest of the day grieving, eventually bringing himself to clean up their bodies and bury them outside the homestead. He told Kaan what had happened; the farmer, heartbroken for his good friend’s son, helped him dispose of the dead kath hounds and offered him a place to stay. Having nowhere else to go and needing the support of this friend of the family, Vik accepted the offer, selling his father’s farmland and moving in with Kaan.
Vik continued to grieve for his parents, visiting their graves every day, and soon settled into his new surroundings, assisting Kaan with his work as he had done for his father. His skill with his weapons, particularly his father’s rifle, continued to grow, and he made a special point of looking out for hunting jobs involving Kath hounds - and doing a more thorough job than was really necessary in wiping out the pack. He saw it as a release of the rage that still lingered in his heart, and as long as nobody questioned why he seemed to have a grudge against all Kath hounds he was fine.
For the best part of the year, and a month or so after his twentieth birthday, life was peaceful. But even this reprieve would be utterly destroyed by the Sith invasion. Vik was out hunting when the Kylah Plains were hit; the Sith forces had steamrolled Kaan’s farm on the way, and by the time Vik returned there wasn’t a stone left standing of his close friend’s homestead. A familiar blade of sorrow lanced through him once again, but he did not cry; rather, his despair was quickly turned into anger at the Sith at having done this. Once already the boy had had everything he held dear taken from him - never did he believe it would happen again.
He gathered what few belongings he had and moved in the direction of the Sith’s marauding campaign of conquest so as to find other survivors, knowing he wouldn’t survive very long on his own. It didn’t take him very long to get word of the formation of the Dantooine Liberation Army, a guerrilla force dedicated to fighting the Sith occupation, and he realised that this would be the best way to give his personal vendetta against the Sith some power.
He followed the rumours, doing his best to track the DLA so that he might be able to offer his assistance. He was somewhat fortunate in that when he finally found a DLA team they were under attack from a small Sith force. This was his chance to prove himself; taking a position overlooking the chaos, flanking the Sith nicely, he readied his blaster rifle. They didn’t see him coming at all, and it took just five expertly-aimed shots to drop what remained of the squad. He moved down from his sniping position to greet the DLA soldiers, who extended their deep gratitude and took him with them when they made themselves scarce in the face of incoming Sith reinforcements.
He’d proved his worth and shown his dedication to the DLA’s cause, and those were the only things they asked of him. With a purpose for his anger and an opportunity to make a difference, Vik accepted his DLA tattoo with pride and steeled himself for the trials ahead. This war would not be an easy one, but while he lived and breathed it would not be lost.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 5
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 6
Alignment: +4
RP Sample:
”This one’s for Kaan.”
A single energised gunshot rang out, for some reason more audible amongst the chaos of the firefight below. Taking cover behind a pair of parked land speeders, a squad of Sith soldiers traded fire with a ragtag team of guerrillas who attacked from behind a cluster of rocks. The Sith soldiers seemed so focused on the enemies in front of them they didn’t expect a flanking manoeuvre; so when one of their number dropped dead, a blue blaster bolt sinking into his head from his left, his comrades were painfully slow to react.
This was all the time Vik Vandregas, farmer turned would-be freedom fighter, needed. He knew the blaster rifle in his hands inside-out, and his innate understanding of this and his other weapons was matched only by his confidence in his skills using them. He turned at his waist, scowling at his next target as he lined up his shot, and squeezed the trigger again. Another blue bolt of energy erupted from the muzzle of the weapon, burning through the hapless soldier’s helmet and into his head, and he too fell lifelessly to the ground.
The remaining three fell in a similar fashion, a blaster bolt from an unseen assailant snatching their lives from them one by one, each being slain within a second of the one who preceded him. Such was the prowess and confidence of their killer, and the iron conviction that guided his every shot. These five were just the first, the start of his personal campaign against the Sith Empire. They had encroached upon the tranquility of his home and taken everything he had from him except his weapons and his rage. Now, with the aid of the Dantooine Liberation Army, some of whose soldiers he had just saved, he would be able to exact some small measure of vengeance by driving this invader off his planet.
If the Sith wanted Dantooine, they were going to have to fight for it…
And Vik Vandregas would fight to his last breath.
Name: Vik Vandregas
Race: Human
Age: 20
Height: 6’2"
Weight: 160 lbs
Appearance: Lean and athletic, the hard labour of a farmer’s life giving him a well-toned physique, Vik possesses hard grey eyes that hide his easiness of character and friendly demeanour. His flat, relatively long hair, naturally brown, is dyed black with a silver streak. He bears the blank tattoo of a new Dantooine Liberation Army member upon his lower back at the base of his spine.
He is usually seen in loose-fitting, casual garb, his wardrobe little more than a collection of generic shirts and pants of durable woven cotton and three pairs of hardy, broken-in boots, but hidden beneath the nondescript surface lies a hidden set of armour; a cotton vest and leggings with thin plates of durasteel woven into them. His weapons are always on his person; a pair of underarm scabbards for his throwing knives, a hip holster for his slugthrower pistol and a belt-mounted drop scabbard for his utility knife. His blaster rifle is usually slung onto his back.
Birth place: Dantooine
Occupation: Farmer / Freedom fighter
Rank: Soldier / Sniper
Bio:
Childhood on the Farm: Birth - 13
The only child of Varrak and Sara Vandregas, Vik was born and raised on his parents’ small farm a few miles northwest of Farmstead Kylah. Varrak, a Corellian and a former bounty hunter, had settled into a simple life on Dantooine after a badly handled hit led him to abandon his materialistic, almost meaningless existence. He used the impressive wealth he’d accrued over the years to set up a small farm and fended for himself, selling the majority of his crops to make his money and hunting for his food. It was here that he met Sara, a human woman from another settlement, and the two hit it off quite nicely. After three years of dating they married, Sara moving onto Varrack’s small farm. Varrack began hunting wild animals that damaged other farmers’ land in return for small payments as a means of making extra money, and this, coupled with the profit being made from his crops, allowed he and his wife to expand the farm, buying up new land for livestock and more crops.
They had a single plan with this new income; starting a family. And start a family they did. Four years after their marriage, the farm’s new facilities bringing in even more money, Vik was born. A healthy boy with his mother’s eyes, he grew up to develop his father’s physique. From an early age the boy took a keen interest in Varrack’s work, often observing as his father sowed seeds and harvested crops but unable to help as much as he'd like; primarily because his schoolwork took up much of his time, and because there wasn't much he could do to help in any significant way. He was relatively withdrawn, seeing no need to spend much of his time away from home, and this reservation carried over into his school life; he was quiet but studious, focusing only on his work.
That insignificance as far as his working capabilities was soon done away with as Vik grew older. From about six onwards he was believed by his parents to be old enough to begin learning the proper ways of the farm. He was taught how to perform some of the less intensive chores, spending most of his free time assisting his mother around the house or helping his father in the fields in some small way such as planting seeds or watering individual plants, but year after year his ability to handle more physically and intellectually demanding jobs increased. He began working for longer periods of time, often to the point where he'd spend a whole day sowing large portions of his father's fields on his own.
He was ten when he completed his first large-scale solo task; sowing an entire field, one of the biggest on Varrack's land, with cotton seeds. It had taken him three days to finish the work, and Varrack had insisted upon giving him no help except instructing him in how best to plant the seeds and observing his work from afar, but he'd eventually finished and was rewarded with a week off and the immense pride of his ever-caring parents.
For a long time this milestone accomplishment gave Vik great confidence in his abilities, and his work on the farm took on a new level of technical skill as he spent more and more of his time learning the finer points of the tasks he undertook. Yet for an even longer time Vik had his own workload to deal with before even thinking about his father's; school. Balancing his studies with his work around the home and on the farm was no easy task, leaving the boy little time for socialising, especially since his responsibilities on the farm had only increased as he'd grown older and become able to take on progressively more demanding jobs.
Perhaps, however, he brought this upon himself; his studies had shown a developing interest in the sciences, and some of the time that could have been spent making friends was spent, of his own accord, perusing the occasional encyclopaedia. Still, for the time being Varrack was capable of handling the farm on his own if need be and Vik soon developed something of a schedule as a means of balancing his free time between meeting friends and offering his parents some help. Less and less of his time was invested in the textbooks, which he began reading only occasionally when he needed to look something up or had nothing else to do, and that time was instead spent as any child should spend their idle hours; with his friends. "The gang", as they called themselves, were his closest friends; a group of seven including Vik that had come together a year or so ago, they did almost everything together when they had time on their hands. Whenever Vik found himself with the odd precious days off, often at his father's insistence, he usually knew where to find the others and what he'd do with that free time. This schedule of sorts served the young farmer well for the year and a half until his thirteenth birthday and the many years beyond.
A Quiet Life Gets Loud: 13 - 19
As Vik grew, so did his knowledge of the farm’s workings. Puberty worked in concert with his life of labour to condition a flawless body for the young boy, and with his growing physical and mental capacities he began taking on more complex tasks, learning how to operate machinery like harvesters on his own and even maintaining his father's weapons, and had Varrack teach him how to use a firearm and other weapons so that he could help hunt for food and money. The man bought him a mid-calibre slugthrower pistol, a finely crafted utility knife and a set of throwing daggers, and over the course of the better part of five years he learned to wield these weapons with astounding efficiency.
The pistol was expensive to run compared to the blaster, as is the case with all slugthrower weapons owing to the relative rarity and subsequent high cost of ammunition, but it was much easier to maintain and produced much cleaner hunting kills than the rifle; it was these two facts which drew Vik to it and ensured it saw continued use despite the greater expense. Occasionally he would go out on his own with his father’s blaster rifle (Varrack’s weapon of choice as a bounty hunter) at Varrack's request as a means of testing himself, but despite the superior range and power of the rifle it was clumsy at the close ranges he was used to and he much preferred the speed and ease of use offered by his ever trusty pistol. And should the pistol ever jam - as it was prone to do when he'd been slack in cleaning it - he always had his knives to fall back on. On numerous occasions having his throwing daggers on him had allowed him to secure a kill when the pistol jammed or he didn't have time to reload.
It was at the age of seventeen that Vik completed his first successful hunt, downing a skittish iriaz. He'd approached silently at first, intending to kill the creature with his pistol, but been spotted at the last second and had his aim thrown somewhat by the distraction as he opened fire. The iriaz, wounded by the shot but still able to run, turned on the boy and charged him to create an opening in which to flee. Expecting it to run, Vik had holstered the pistol as the iriaz came screeching at him. Panicked by this unexpected attack, he barely rolled clear of the charging iriaz and drew the blaster rifle; turning on the spot, he spared only a moment to peer down the sight at the iriaz as it turned and ran before he squeezed the trigger. His shot was well-placed, sinking into the beast's neck and killing it almost instantly. Kicking himself for his stupidity but glad he was unharmed, he called his father in to get the body back home. In retrospect the boy didn't think all that much of the rifle, finding it a tad unwieldy at such close range. But he continued to use it, seeing its real virtues on numerous occasions and keeping his pistol close and loaded should he need it.
However, come his nineteenth birthday he came to truly appreciate the rifle’s superior destructive power - but at the expense of his parents’ lives. A wild pack of horned kath hounds had been irritating a local farmer, a friend of the family named Kaan, for some time, but the last straw came when his young daughter wandered outside one evening and they mauled her to death. Without the skill or weaponry to deal with the beasts, he hired Varrack to slay them. The ex-bounty hunter brought his son on the hunt, and between them they tracked down and killed the wild hounds with no real trouble. But they would suffer their fair share of heartbreak; when they returned from the grateful farmer’s homestead after collecting their fee, the two hunters found that a smaller pack had attacked their own home. Realising Sara was alone with the canine menaces, they rushed in, weapons ready, to save her.
When they entered the living room they were met with the sight of an incapacitated hound bleeding out from a large stab wound to the side of its neck. A trail of the crimson liquid led from the kitchen, and they followed it in to see Sara lying on the floor, her face and arms torn and lacerated, a bloodstained knife clutched loosely in her hand. Two other hounds stood watch around her, both with bloodied mouths and claws; low, guttural growls escaping their throats as they closed in on their prey. Varrack raised his rifle, sinking a pair of bolts into the hound nearest to his maimed wife, and the remaining dog turned upon him with alarming speed and pounced. Clawing his face as it leapt at him, knocking him to the floor, the dog spared only a moment to sink its teeth into the helpless hunter and tear out his throat before turning on Vik. Terrified, the teen raised his pistol and got off a single round before the hound came at him. The bullet sank into its shoulder, drawing a yelp of pain from the beast, but did not slow it; rather, it leapt at the teen with a renewed ferocity. He stepped back, just out of its reach, but it bashed his pistol out of his hand with a swipe of its broad paw. The adrenaline-fuelled Vik was quick to react, sidestepping the hound and darting for his father’s body. Wrenching the blaster rifle out of Varrack’s hand, the boy turned on his heels just in time to fire on the hound twice as it charged again. The two bolts ripped into the beast’s head, killing it instantly, and it slumped pathetically to the floor before it could reach him.
It took a moment for the rush of adrenaline to subside, and only then did Vik realise his parents were dead. His survival instincts gave way to a great knife of sorrow that plunged into his heart and the boy broke down, crying over the mangled corpses of his dear mother and father. He spent the rest of the day grieving, eventually bringing himself to clean up their bodies and bury them outside the homestead. He told Kaan what had happened; the farmer, heartbroken for his good friend’s son, helped him dispose of the dead kath hounds and offered him a place to stay. Having nowhere else to go and needing the support of this friend of the family, Vik accepted the offer, selling his father’s farmland and moving in with Kaan.
A Lost Soul Given Purpose: 19 - Present
Vik continued to grieve for his parents, visiting their graves every day, and soon settled into his new surroundings, assisting Kaan with his work as he had done for his father. His skill with his weapons, particularly his father’s rifle, continued to grow, and he made a special point of looking out for hunting jobs involving Kath hounds - and doing a more thorough job than was really necessary in wiping out the pack. He saw it as a release of the rage that still lingered in his heart, and as long as nobody questioned why he seemed to have a grudge against all Kath hounds he was fine.
For the best part of the year, and a month or so after his twentieth birthday, life was peaceful. But even this reprieve would be utterly destroyed by the Sith invasion. Vik was out hunting when the Kylah Plains were hit; the Sith forces had steamrolled Kaan’s farm on the way, and by the time Vik returned there wasn’t a stone left standing of his close friend’s homestead. A familiar blade of sorrow lanced through him once again, but he did not cry; rather, his despair was quickly turned into anger at the Sith at having done this. Once already the boy had had everything he held dear taken from him - never did he believe it would happen again.
He gathered what few belongings he had and moved in the direction of the Sith’s marauding campaign of conquest so as to find other survivors, knowing he wouldn’t survive very long on his own. It didn’t take him very long to get word of the formation of the Dantooine Liberation Army, a guerrilla force dedicated to fighting the Sith occupation, and he realised that this would be the best way to give his personal vendetta against the Sith some power.
He followed the rumours, doing his best to track the DLA so that he might be able to offer his assistance. He was somewhat fortunate in that when he finally found a DLA team they were under attack from a small Sith force. This was his chance to prove himself; taking a position overlooking the chaos, flanking the Sith nicely, he readied his blaster rifle. They didn’t see him coming at all, and it took just five expertly-aimed shots to drop what remained of the squad. He moved down from his sniping position to greet the DLA soldiers, who extended their deep gratitude and took him with them when they made themselves scarce in the face of incoming Sith reinforcements.
He’d proved his worth and shown his dedication to the DLA’s cause, and those were the only things they asked of him. With a purpose for his anger and an opportunity to make a difference, Vik accepted his DLA tattoo with pride and steeled himself for the trials ahead. This war would not be an easy one, but while he lived and breathed it would not be lost.
Attributes:
Physical Strength: 5
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 5
Leadership: 4
Unarmed: 2
Melee Weapons: 5
Ranged Weapons: 6
Alignment: +4
RP Sample:
”This one’s for Kaan.”
A single energised gunshot rang out, for some reason more audible amongst the chaos of the firefight below. Taking cover behind a pair of parked land speeders, a squad of Sith soldiers traded fire with a ragtag team of guerrillas who attacked from behind a cluster of rocks. The Sith soldiers seemed so focused on the enemies in front of them they didn’t expect a flanking manoeuvre; so when one of their number dropped dead, a blue blaster bolt sinking into his head from his left, his comrades were painfully slow to react.
This was all the time Vik Vandregas, farmer turned would-be freedom fighter, needed. He knew the blaster rifle in his hands inside-out, and his innate understanding of this and his other weapons was matched only by his confidence in his skills using them. He turned at his waist, scowling at his next target as he lined up his shot, and squeezed the trigger again. Another blue bolt of energy erupted from the muzzle of the weapon, burning through the hapless soldier’s helmet and into his head, and he too fell lifelessly to the ground.
The remaining three fell in a similar fashion, a blaster bolt from an unseen assailant snatching their lives from them one by one, each being slain within a second of the one who preceded him. Such was the prowess and confidence of their killer, and the iron conviction that guided his every shot. These five were just the first, the start of his personal campaign against the Sith Empire. They had encroached upon the tranquility of his home and taken everything he had from him except his weapons and his rage. Now, with the aid of the Dantooine Liberation Army, some of whose soldiers he had just saved, he would be able to exact some small measure of vengeance by driving this invader off his planet.
If the Sith wanted Dantooine, they were going to have to fight for it…
And Vik Vandregas would fight to his last breath.
