Raul Orm

[Dire Wolf]

"Unless you do your best, the day will come when, tired and hungry, you will halt just short of the goal you were ordered to reach, and by halting you will make useless the efforts and deaths of thousands."
~ Gen. George S. Patton

Faction: Mando'ade
Department: Vu'traat
Rank: Captain

Name: Raul Orm
Race: Human
Age: 39
Height: 6'1"
Weight: 230lbs

Appearance



Beneath that legendary T visor of a Mandalorian lies a man. One who is riddled with scars from a lifetime of combat, both physically and mentally. Four scars dominate his face, the first few are in a set... and the final is by itself. The first three begin at his right temple, and slash down towards the opposite jawline, cutting across his eye and lips. A cybernetic eye replaced the former one, and more or less looks the same as the previous one... save for the fact that it has the odd tendency to glow red in the dark. It also is the tracking and aiming mechanism for his shoulder blaster, which points at what the eye gazes upon from his right shoulder. The second scar that dominates his face is one that crosses over the previous, as it starts at the beginning of his ear and curves down to the middle of the opposite jawline.

Otherwise, however, the man behind the beskar helm is a perfect specimen of a Mandalorian. His muscles are well sculpted and conditioned to work until they can't move another ounce... then move five more. It also doesn't take much to notice that the man's left hand is missing its pinky, and long canyon-esk scars snake their way up to his wrist from that spot.

His personal suit of beskar'gam is unlike one any mando'ad has made before. It offers no more protection than that of a neo-crusader's armor, but the style of the body plates are radically different. The armor itself is painted in a forest green hue, and each plate of armor is outlined in an off white. Bones of the legendary Caru of Haestrom are also set into the plate of his armor, adding to the protective values even further. On his left shoulder rest spines of the same creature, though they don't stick up particularly far... they serve to intimidate the few idiots who stand against him and his comrades.

Birth place
Coruscant

Skills
Stealth
Tracking
Piloting
Hunting
General Badassery

Equipment
(All links)
Beskar Wrist Blades
extend out to 2', retract to .5'. One on each arm.
Shoulder Cannon
Folds onto his back when not in use
Beskar Spear, retractable
6' or 8' long while extended, 2' while retracted
x4 Beskar “Smart” Disks
minus alien hand, lol
Beskar'gam
Sans the wrist claws, and the shoulder spikes are considerably smaller... and made out of Caru bones. The shoulder blaster also resides on the right shoulder, opposite the Caru bones.
Jet Pack
Kama

Attributes

Physical Strength: 7
Intelligence: 5
Speed: 5
Leadership: 4

Unarmed: 4
Melee Weapons: 8
Ranged Weapons: 8

Alignment: +1

Bio

Love. It was something that nearly every child has early on in life, and its almost a requirement in the growing process. Families rely on it to stay together. Raul had no love early on, or at all in his life. He had no family. But he grew, and he grew fast. His mother was a prostitute operating out of “the Works” district of galactic city, and his father was some low life who happened to have thirty credits in his pocket and a primal urge in his heart. To say that he was an accident would be a massive understatement. His “mother” didn't even bother to give her bouncing babe a name before leaving her spice addicted child on the front steps of an orphanage. The baby mewled for days after being scooped up, mewling for more attention (and spice. Lots of spice.) than the minders could provide, considering that the fifty other children of varied ages called the place home as well. It was that very run down orphanage where the boy, named Jax shortly after being taken in, spent the first eight years of his life. It was also within those halls that he found the one thing that no child should ever find: disappointment.

No child could ever leave that place, not without someone adopting them first... and even then, through cursory background checks. The few prospective adoptive parents to come through, even if they were of questionable backgrounds, were barely enough to keep the ever-rising headcount within the orphanage in check. After being passed up for adoption time and again, the boy had enough. He'd rather live out on the streets than that hell of a place... at least then he could eat when he wanted to, or when he found food. The orphanage just wasn't equipped well enough to care for every single child there... yet they refused to turn children away.

So, he ran. The boy simply darted out of the door at the first reasonable opportunity, which happened to be after a pair of prospective parents came through the door in his presence. Jax quickly discovered that this was a foolish mistake, and he may have been romanticizing about the outside world a little bit. Just a little. There were no lines for him to get his soup, save the few soup lines that were almost once in a blue moon. The real ones, anyways, generally funded by some church or a philanthropist. More often than not, though, Jax found that his belly was most often full from common thievery. The boy also found that he'd have to have no-small amount of gravel in his gut, and spit in his eye if he were going to survive out in the world that he lived in... if it could be called that. Often times the older children, sometimes adults, would see him steal from a stall, or simply eat fresh fruit, and swoop in to steal it. Often times they'd leave with more bruises than they could count, a pair of sore genitals, and bloody bite marks. Soon enough... everyone knew not to mess with the little kid, because he was little... but he was definitely the most ferocious and tenacious creature on the streets.

Until a Mandalorian by the name of Solus'vod Orm watched him fight off a pair of much older boys at the age of ten. Instantly, the man knew that he'd found a boy worth bringing into his clan... and walked so he walked up to the boy to “adopt” him. Jax, not quite realizing that this big armored man was here to help rather than steal his easy-earned food, instantly whipped around and threw a small fist into his groin... which was generally one of his favored opening attacks. Pleased, Solus easily deflected the boy's sloppy punch and threw him to the side. All it took was a brief exchange of words, and the boy was cautiously following his new father back to his ship. Jax was near constantly in the state to bolt and run from the man at all times, but something deep within his gut told him that this armored man could be trusted... and Jax had learned to trust his gut above all else during his two years on the streets.

It wasn't long after that the man revealed himself as Solus'vod Orm, one of the more infamous bounty hunters of his time. Not only that, but the man also revealed to the boy that he was to be his son, learn the ways of the proud Mando'ade, and become a proud warrior of their peoples. It bored him. At first, anyways, as the little street-raised kid had eyes the size of dinner plates the very second that his father put a blaster rifle in his hand. That was when the boy officially took to learning the code of the Mando'ad. Jax, now renamed Raul Orm, took to each word from Sol's lips in like a dry sponge to water. The father taught his surrogate son everything he knew, from bounty hunting, tracking and stalking a target, using a jet pack, fighting with a beskar spear, and shooting to honor and moral values. Everything that Raul knew came from his father, and it was just under a decade that the man judged him to be skilled enough to go through his verd'goten. It was a rite of passage of sorts for the Mando'ade, and one of the most challenging things a young Mando'ad could go through.

The nearly twenty year old Mando'ad was taken to the jungle moon of Dxun and simply left there to die. That obviously wasn't the aim, but every Mandalorian had to go through his coming of age before he'd be fully indoctrinated into their culture. Weeks passed, and the boy survived... but he couldn't return to his people without some proof of his bravery. Weeks. Until, finally, a Zakkeg took notice of the camp that the boy had set up... and attacked just as he was about to go out on another hunt for food.

Needless to say, it was a long fight. One that ended with Raul's spear extending from its retracted position into the unarmored underside of the alpha-predator, killing it. The boy was beaming with pride as he brought the creature's leathery ear to the Mandalorian camp on Dxun. He was a full fledged adult in the Mando'ade. It wasn't particularly long until Solus, an armorer, and Raul went to hard at work with his personal suit of beskar'gam. The suit was as unique as the man who wielded it. His surrogate father also presided over the construction of his other weapons, like the pair of beskar wrist claws on his gaunt, the retractable spear, the disks, and his jet pack.

So began his long and prosperous career as a bounty hunter.

It wasn't terribly long after his rather humble beginning as a hunter of men that he met a girl, one that happened to be a relatively young (like him :-O) pilot that was down on her luck. Seeing as his skills in the pilot's seat was... lacking... at best (and he was rather smitten with her) he decided that taking her on as his partner was his best bet to success. It, indeed, was... but not the same success that he was thinking of.

Over the next four years, Kahlan (the girl), taught him all that she knew about flying. Though he could never seem to fully grow as good as she was at the art, which was what it seemed to be, so he decided to keep her aboard. That was not the sole purpose for her staying aboard his humble ship, however, as he'd grown to love her over the years that he'd known her.

One year later he proposed to her on Corellia, within the beautiful river city of Tyrena. She accepted, and not only that... but she agreed to become a Mando'ad as well. He gave up his previously prosperous life as a bounty hunter after that under the hope that he'd be able to give up that life and settle down as a farmer.

Fortunately, his new wife was quick to take to the tenets of the Mando'ade... hell... she'd already followed most of it during her employ. The newly wed pair bought a small track of land easy enough, and even managed to farm it for a short while. Though Raul never did seem to be able to take to farming very well, there was just something about it that barred him from actually being successful. No matter how hard the man tried, he failed. It infuriated him. When he discovered that his wife was pregnant, he had to do something, anything, to bring more food to the table.

Unfortunately, that was bounty hunting.

As much as the man loathed to separate himself from his pregnant wife, he had to do it if she were to eat. Despite her pleas, he didn't allow her to follow him into the stars. She was about to be the mother of his children, and he simply couldn't risk her being harmed. Kahlan was far too valuable and precious for her to be involved in something as loathesome as bounty hunting.

Little did he know, it was because of this selfless act of putting family before his own personal wants that ended the very thing he was seeking to protect. Raul missed Jaden's birth, his first son, because he couldn't arrive home from the core worlds fast enough. It was crushing, and a sign that all good things must come to an end. Not that Kahlan considered her marriage a good thing, but she was young... and didn't understand why her husband did what he did.

After years of her husband flying among the stars, gaining fame as one of the better and more honorable bounty hunters in the galaxy, she grew lonely at home. It was hard seeing the man she loved only once or twice every couple of months, after all. Eventually she met someone else, but it wasn't a man... oh no... she was a spacer. It wasn't intentional. Kahlan had taken up a job as a mechanic for Mandalore's space port, and the spacer had needed repairs. The Zeltron promptly began to hit on the human girl, and on a whim, they went out.

Less than a year later, just after one of Raul left his home to continue his quest to bring food to the table, Kahlan ran off with her child and the Zeltron. Naturally, Kahlan didn't even bother to tell her husband that she was leaving him, let alone for a woman, and taking their son with him. They didn't leave any form of notification, or even an opportunity for him to see his very young son one last time.

Imagine his surprise when he came home as a surprise, finally able to quit bounty hunting due to the funds that he'd raised. At first he thought that they were kidnapped, and almost went on a rampage, but after careful inspection of the house... he noted that nothing was out of place. It certainly wasn't ransacked, nor was there any sign of struggle. It was almost as if Kahlan had left the place to rot.

Heh... she did. The man spent the next five years searching for any trace of his missing wife and their son, but found nothing. She knew every single one of his tricks for finding people, and therefore perfectly avoided him during that brief period of time. Finally, with resignation, he decided to give up on finding his wife for the time being and focus on venting his rage on the hapless bounties of the universe.

It was during that time that he gained his sterling reputation as an honorable man and bounty hunter was stained with crimson and infamy, his former employers could hardly believe that he was the same person. More often than not he'd return with a body, simply because he could and the bounty was "worth more than enough dead." Eventually he ended up working for a hutt, which was loathsome but prosperous work... though he took a pay cut in exchange for the hutt's help in finding his missing wife and son.

After 10 years, 10 long years, the Raul had finally managed to track down his wife. Though, to his surprise, she wasn't held captive... but living rather peacefully with a Zeltron woman on Corellia. Tyrena, no less. To say that the big bounty hunter was furious would be a massive understatement. After thanking Greegar the hutt for his assistance, the man practically stormed over to Corellia to confront the woman loved. Though it was beyond him why he still loved her after what she did, he couldn't deny what he felt.

That was, perhaps, why he didn't put a blade through her gullet when he finally met up with her. The argument was long, and more than a few pointed comments were sent both ways. Until Jaden came around the corner, and asked who the big who the big scarred man was. A tear formed at Raul's good eye at that, and he realized just how far he'd been separated from all that he loved and cherished in the galaxy.

After apologizing (not that he was at fault in his own mind) and leaving more than a few credits to help support his son, he left. Heartbroken. Raul had left something behind on Corellia that day, something that he'd never seemed to recover. Not that he knew exactly what it was, his life just felt... different.... after that. Like a void was left in his identity, one that he couldn't fill with all the 'verse's credits and women. Not that his hole was being filled in the case of the latter, of course. It was certainly an odd circumstance for the man to find himself in at the (relatively) young age of 35.

Which was precisely why he decided to heed Mand'alor's call and take up arms against the Galactic Republic in a new crusade. His infamy and stories of his combat prowess landed him a spot in the Officer Corps as a second lieutenant. From there he proved that his skills and cool head in the heat of combat were well above the level that was expected from the lowest officer rank.

He'd fought in many battles over a brief two, all guerrilla warefare against the Republican invaders that kept his figurative homelands tight in its grasp. Though it wasn't until the battle of Concord Dawn that the man knew what it was like to truly know victory. The first step in the Mandalorian crusade was finally reached, and he thirsted for nothing more than to drive his spear straight into the heart of the Republic. To make them feel the same pain that they made the Mando'ade feel. To make them hurt. Bleed.

Two years later he took part in the battle of Shogun, though he was unfotunately barred from joining either of the vu'traat teams that were assigned to go in before the main Mando'ad force to destroy a pair of bases. Instead, he took part in the main invasion... and ensured that many of the Republic hu'tuun fell upon his spear or died with his shoulder cannon.

Finally, after countless requests, he was assigned to the Blood Pack directly after the battle of Shogun. He'd managed to fully get into the BP by slaying one of the massive Caru on the planet of Haestrom, and even used their bones as reinforcement of his armor. He simply couldn't wait to meet his new team, little did he know, the pair he'd be teamed up with would turn out to be the most ironic imaginable...

RP Sample
Inspiration Music for this one. Couldn't not link.

“Alor of Manda... I've never prayed to you before. No one, not even you, will remember if we were good men or bad. Why we fought, or why we died. All that matters is that a few stood against many. All of that pleases you, and all that I ask is that you grant me one request: Glory. If you won't listen to that... then to hell with you,” Raul's eyes opened slowly after speaking that prayer to whoever the hell was in charge of Manda. In all honesty he hadn't payed attention to the religiosity side of being a Mando'ad in all of his three decades of being one, or however long it'd been since he'd joined the Mando'ade. He had followed their culture, however, as closely as he could... so whoever the hell was in charge of letting people into Manda had better heed that prayer, or he'd have one pissed off Mando'ad to deal with.

And Raul was not a man to trifle with. As these foolish republic soldiers were about to find out. His brown gaze washed over the few brothers and sisters that had survived up until that point. The gaping maw of his oversized and overpowered energy cannon followed his gaze, though its intention was not for intimidation. None was needed. The man's voice was gruff, almost raspy, the latter of which was a result of heavy combat and hours of war cries. “Hold th' goddam line, like you've been doing. Don't let a single one a those gorram di'kutla hut'uuns through, like you've been doing. Just gotta hold out until Mand'alor decides ta show with those shiny besalisks 'n' take all'a credit. Walk in th' gorram park.” Indeed, Major Raul Orm and a small detachment of mando'ad vode to hold a base in the valley while military operations were being conducted elsewhere on the planet. It just so happened that those Republic hu'tuuns decided that it was best to play while the cat was away, and attempted to take over the base and set up an ambush. That couldn't happen.

There were few lulls in the heavy combat that the Republic put their vode adversaries through, and the one just seen. Of course, no sooner did Raul end his little mini speech than a few Republic made shells fell to the duracrete. Each massive detonation sent blasts of concussion and shrapnel flying in every direction, and had the Mando'ad scrambling for any sort of cover so that they might survive the storm of led. Raul didn't flinch a muscle. Instead, he slowly slipped his metallic gray helm over his head and walked towards the wall as if the artillery barrage was nothing but his imagination. “Well?” he looked over at a vod who had recently ducked behind a wall, “yer just as safe standing out here. Arty 'll go through that ceiling like it was paper. Gorram di'kutla hu'tuuns... usin' artillery.” The last part of his comment was really more of a grumble, and one that ended in him putting an armored boot into the wall. As if on some sort of divine cue, a single piece of shrapnel from a recently detonated artillery shell flew into his neck, narrowly missing the juggular and the windpipe. On instinct, his hand instantly shot up to cover the recently made wound just as he yelled more than a few expletives that are best left unwritten. A long sigh left his lips as he moved towards the door, and looked back over at the Mando'ad. Who was apparently amazed that his commander was alive, let alone running. "Major! You're hit pretty bad! Lemme see to i-" the medic tried to stop him, in hopes that he could maybe stop the bleeding. Raul cut him off, “I ain't got time to fockin' bleed.”

It wasn't terribly long until the barrage of artillery had ended, mostly because the door had been hit with one of their coward's shells. He had no doubt in his mind that the rival commander had just about enough fun with his merry little band of warriors, and would just as soon level the base than actually try to take it. If the door hadn't been blown to splinters than it would have been very likely that the commander would have done just that. Lucky him. The Warriors of the Mando'ad had already set up ambush positions for the Republic hut'uuns by the time they got there, and oh they paid for their blatant display of cowardice. Paid dearly.

Raul allowed the first few men to pass before he slipped his hand over the release of his spear, which instantly shot out to its full length of eight feet and into the side of an enemy soldier's head. He withdrew the spear with a wet schlunck! and brought the beskar haft around to slam into the neck of another soldier as he ran by. The hut'uun was sent sprawling onto the duracrete floor, down but not out. Raul instantly slid one of the blades of his spear into the man's chest, through his heart, and snuffed out the fire of his life right there. Raul's cybernetic eye shot up to another soldier, his shoulder cannon heeding its orders, and discharged a blazing red bolt into the man's face. The result was gruesome, and the energy from the blast left a rather large crater where his face used to be.

The Ori'mando'ad didn't bother to enjoy the pleasure of what he saw, as his attention was already turned to the man who had a vibrosword and thought he knew how to wield it. Fool. As the blade swung towards his armored form, the man withdrew his hand from the spear and sharply clenched his fist into a ball, which sent a pair of sickeningly designed beskar blades springing from their scabbard in his gaunt. The twin blades met their lock just in time to parry the vibrating blade, and allowed his muscles to easily throw his enemy's blade to the side, which made the way for his spear to run the man through. With an enraging roar, the man slumped the now cooling carrion off of the beskar spear and hurled into a “soldier” that was about to perform a coup de grace on a vode. The beskar spear's blade easily dug through both sides of the man's armor and part of the wall behind him, impaling his corpse to the wall enough to support its dead weight.

His helm was great and powerful, yes, but it restricted his vision far too much. Because of this lack of peripheral vision, one of his enemies was allowed to make a quick swipe at the man's face. Fortunately his reactions were quick, and he arched his back just in time to turn a killing blow into an enraging wounding one... he'd sustained plenty of those in this battle, and would survive despite them. His helmet flew off of his head and hit the ground with a dull thump!, revealing his scarred face that was lined with a bloody gash from his opponent's blade. Slowly, his gaze and the shoulder cannon turned towards the fool who was stupid enough to poke the dragon with a stick. The man that had slashed at him recoiled at the sight of a human, and an ugly one at that. Odd, seeing as the warrior who was brave and/or stupid enough to attack him in such an enraging manner was just as large as he was. “You're one ugly motha fu-” his sentence was cut off by another raspy war cry and the schlink! of the remaining pair of Raul's wrist blades sliding from their beskar scabbard.

Raul instantly pressed an unrelenting and powerful assault of furious swipes on the man, who was only barely able to block each due to his bulk and surprising speed. It wasn't long until Raul managed to catch the man's single blade inbetween his left arm's pair of blades, and twist his wrist so that the vibrosword was ripped from his enemy's grasp. “You're a worthy combatant,” was all that Raul said as he plunged a pair of wrist blades into the man's chest, the sickening beskar blades easily overpenetrated his body so that his clenched fist was pressed up against the armor. Raul simply watched the blood flow from the only worthy combatant's carrion for a few moments, and used both of his arms to rip the now dead man down to the ground... making it far easier to withdraw his blades from his body.

He snarled and turned back to the glorious combat that had erupted within the small base. Oh, he would know glory this day. Perhaps even be granted the beautiful death that he'd dreamed of having for so long.

[Rugs]

[Rugs]

Come with me, Ra-oul! *gay hand wave*

Deactivated per request