Character Sheet:
Name: Traiver of Zun, "Darth Belevir"
Age: 53
Race: Human
Appearance:
This but less angyFaction: Sith Empire
Force Sensitive: Yes
Occupation: Sith Lord (No assigned territory)
Bio: Born to Cassio and Reisha of an outer rim, barely on record planet called Zun encapsulated but practically ignored by the Sith Empire, Traiver's life was a confusing one. He spent much of his early years idolizing the Sith Empire's culture, and learning from his parents' work in the sex industry. It was practically his legacy to join that world when he became old enough, and even possibly before that if someone paid well enough, but that wasn't what he had in mind. He wanted to be a sith, carving through swaths of enemies, wooing the ladies and looking cool while doing it. He needed to get to Korriban, to the Sith academy. At the age of 15, however, life took a harsh turn for him. A sith apprentice, looking to get rid of some force sensitives so he didn't have to worry about newbies trying to rise up the ranks locally and challenge him for his spot, discovered he was force sensitive before even he did. Making friends at first, he showed Traiver how to use the force to a minor degree, just to confirm his suspicions. When he discovered how quickly and effectively Traiver was picking up on using the force, he flipped like a switch and struck him down. Bleeding out in a back alley, he couldn't help but think of how close he was to becoming a sith. He was force sensitive, and he was so strong even a real sith was scared of him. He could've done it, he just needed the chance. His yearning was great, his love of mortal pleasures deafening, his attachment to the world blindingly strong. It felt like days, weeks even, that he bled out in that alleyway. And after several weeks, he stopped bleeding. The injury was still there, a massive hole in his stomach, but the flesh had been cobbled back together in the hole as if patchwork-glued back into place. It hurt, god did it still hurt, but if he could walk he could go get help. Returning home to his parents, they were mortified their son had disappeared for weeks and returned with a gruesome and unnatural injury. Buying the cheapest somewhat-effective bacta tank they could afford for 3000 credits, he spent months in there recovering. And when he finally got out, he knew it was time to hone his force powers. Oddly enough, he never could get them back to that same strength they had been at before.
At the age of 20, he paid a particularly easily swayed sith apprentice to transport him to Korriban in exchange for everything he could ever want from the young man when they got there. As it happened the apprentice was just his type. Same body shape, same height, wasn't much heavier than him either. After a particularly violent attack with a training staff he thought would be a light saber, he had himself the clothes and a couple of weapons he needed to get him where he needed to go. Enrolling in the academy and earning favor with overseer and rival alike however he needed to, he found an affinity for a swift shot and a shock staff for those that were too quick to get shot. For most, however, he preferred the age old method of trying to bed them and kill them while they were vulnerable. None drew his eye more than the gorgeous Grisha of Oberanth, however. Many of their fellow trainees were snobs and elitists, and he wanted to be done with them as quickly as possible. Grisha, however, captivated him. Out of all the virtues of the sith, the strongest in his heart was passion, and she stirred him to commit dark deeds unlike any other. No matter how often he offered to bed her, for the day they fell in battle could be right around the corner, she never paid him much mind. It never felt like the act of an elitist or snob, though. No, she was determined. She didn't strut around and gloat, she
acted. He needed to be like her. He needed to keep up with her. He needed to be with her, at least once.
He was hard to keep down, never letting an injury hamper him. The pain only make his connection to the force stronger, and for most he handled them quickly and without fuss. He killed his way through most trials, thinning the crowd as much as possible so he and the wonderful Grisha both could go as far as possible. He never told her this much of course, no, she was more than capable of handling herself. He never stopped being over-the-top however, declaring his love and strength of desire toward her on many an occasion as both an offer and as a simple conversation starter. It wasn't until the apprenticeship finally opened up that things fell into place, however. The both of them had proven themselves without a doubt, but only one could become the emperor's apprentice. He knew few viewed him as a true challenger, as he was naught but a duelist and his force powers were lacking in comparison to most. She was the chosen of the emperor, there to prove she was worthy of the very apprenticeship they fought for. He regretted never being able to give her the love she deserved before they came face-to-face like this, but he swallowed such shallow emotions and faced her in battle. He had grown over time to be an exceptional duelist, and gave her a run for her money for quite some time. Throughout the battle it was clear her passions lay in the heart of battle, and his own passion swelled in turn upon finding where her own love lay. Even as she ran him through, and he felt the chill of death wrap around him in a very familiar way, it was only minutes before life was pulled back into his soul like a vacuum. His wound enclosed haphazardly in a bundle of his damaged flesh, he looked at the two surprised sith with a grin, knowing he had lost but won in a very different way.
Grisha was a violent lover, never one to find passion in a gentle embrace. A new experience, but he adapted quickly. His passion prevented him from dying, they said. His attachment to the world and the raw power of his passion gave him incredible force abilities, but none had ever noticed it because it was internalized as a method of mitigating injury and even death. It took him some time to understand it, but it seemed Grisha knew exactly what it meant. They could struggle as much as they wanted together, fought and fought in their own abnormal way of making love, and if he died, so be it. He would be back up and ready to go only minutes later. He grew used to it, and eventually didn't mind it at all. Pain was still pain, but it was eventually a very negligible factor.
He did not get the apprenticeship with Emperor Vall, but he did get one under the Sith Lord Brufold, a sith pureblood who sought to train him only to learn his secrets. Once Traiver had learned plenty from his master, the final solution to help his master either find immortality or a successor was clear. He proposed an eternal hunt, where he used his immortality to constantly make attempts at his master's life. No matter how many times Traiver was killed, he was back up soon after hunting his master again. And with the expensive and high powered bacta tanks at the academy, after a long day of hunting and dying he could spend the night restoring himself back to perfect shape. It was only a matter of time until he struck the decisive blow against his master, driving his lightsaber through Brufold's gut while he slept and waking him up clearly. As the sith looked up into his apprentice's eyes, Traiver could ask but one question. "Do you feel immortal?"
Rising to the rank of Sith Lord, Traiver of Zun became Darth Belevir, a sith lord considered by all accounts on the weaker end when it came to force powers, but his craftiness, willingness to do whatever was needed to win, and expert mind for tactics made him a growing threat to any that challenged him. He currently holds no territory by his own decree, but on official record he runs the planet of Zun, a planet completely wiped of life as the sacrifice he needed to prove he was ready to become a Sith Lord. As his passion demanded, one sacrifice was not enough. To prove his loyalty to the new empress, he personally ended an entire planet's small population for her.
Extra: Belevir uses a light saber as most sith do, but he also uses a blaster that is heavily infused with dark side energies to help it punch through a simple anti-blaster defense from jedi or sith.
Name: Fefth'Bivvizek'Dussuwell "Forro"
Age: 64
Race: Chiss
Appearance:
Special boyFaction: Galactic Republic
Force Sensitive: Yes
Occupation: Jedi Master Council Member
Bio: Among the Chiss, force powers are as rare as they are to the rest of the galaxy. Even among the unlucky few, a blaster bolt to the head tends to fix that impurity. On rare occasion, however, a Chiss of high status would instead be exiled, rather than killed for their impurity. Such was the case for Fefth'Bivvizek'Dussuwell, who was later dubbed "Forro" by the jedi knight that took him under his wing. Born to parents he does not name, for his exile is one he accepts wholeheartedly and does not look back on, Forro has always possessed staggering intellect and a strong sense of maturity, even at the age of 10. As by the age of 10, a Chiss is a full grown man, and is held to the standards of all other adults from then until his 80s when the venerable Chiss would inevitably succumb to old age. Forro in his youth was key in many significant battles against the Sith Empire, even as a padawan. His master never did reach the rank of jedi master, refusing the honor of attempting the trials when he knew his own apprentice, a knight at the time, was performing just as well if not better than he. Despite this, Forro never once saw the human knight Voss as his equal, always calling the man his master.
Near the end of the war, when his master fell in battle, Forro did not give in to hatred or fear. He continued the battle with a level head, not once faltering. The mission ended in a success, one would consider it rousing if not for their singular loss. The speech Forro gave at his master's funeral was inspiring, renewing the war effort for many years until the time to talk of peace with the new empress came. Forro, granted the rank of master finally so that he may shift his mind to peaceful work rather than war, took quickly to the new leadership role. He helped draft up the formal request for a ceasefire, and has since turned himself toward rebuilding efforts and strengthening the border worlds lest the war machine reignite. Despite being one of the eldest on the council, he is one of the newest on it as well. He was vital to the war effort as a knight, but with the council no longer desiring war they also no longer desired to have such an influential figure stand at the forefront, keeping the troops ready to fight.
Extra: Forro is a master of form 3.
Name: Gorefield "Garfield"
Age: 41
Race: Taung Mandalorian
Appearance:
Baffled I managed to find a picture of a Taung jedi WITH SOME SICKASS MANDALORIAN ARMORFaction: Galactic Republic
Force Sensitive: Yes
Occupation: Jedi Knight
Bio: Born to an extinct race that exist only in legends as the progenitors of the mandalorian culture, the true mandalorians were thought of as dead until the young mandalorian showed up at the doorstep of the jedi temple on Coruscant, demanding to be taught the peaceful ways of the jedi. He claims to be from Mandalore, but no records nor mandalorians confirm the existence of he or anyone like him on the planet beyond the ancient records dating back to before they were wiped out in the Zhell-Taung war. Still, he could hardly be turned away, he was without a doubt force sensitive, and he seemed to have a strong desire to learn the "peaceful ways of the jedi". He had a rough go of it, and many times other jedi insisted he be thrown out due to his inability to be truly peaceful. Gorefield, who insisted on not being called such because "Bloody battlefields are not peaceful", did his best to prove them wrong at each and every turn. Eventually his master figured out the key to the boy who he called Garfield's success, help him find balance in his struggle with the dark side. Studying all he knew on the subject, The Iridonian Jedi Knight Yonn Fersse learned the rarely-spoken-of form 7, Vaapad, and taught it to his padawan in turn. Garfield caught on to it quickly, channeling his innate predatory nature with the focus of a proper jedi form to create a jedi with an unrivaled offense. Garfield's insistence on using any weapon he possessed, not just his lightsaber, did continue to cause some concern however.
As the war went on, Yonn proved to not be as capable of balancing between light and dark as well as Garfield, eventually succumbing to the dark side. Striking down a fellow jedi knight in battle, Yonn's betrayal was swift and fierce, but unrefined. Garfield, who had taken to the form much better than Yonn and was far more in control of himself at the age of 15, and after several minutes of trying to talk down his master, struck him down with a slug shot to the chest mid duel while preoccupying both his master's hands with defending against Garfield's singular hand push of a lightsaber. His reception from there forward was mixed, as some praised him for his battle tactics, while others considered him a dishonorable jedi for using something other than a light saber in battle. Others still blamed him for his master's fall and death, as he never would've been tempted to the dark side if he hadn't been forced to touch Vaapad just to teach an unruly padawan. Still, Garfield was eventually granted the rank of knight after rigorous testing, and spent the rest of the war working hard to prove himself.
Now that the war is over, he preoccupies himself with his new padawan, Tick.
Extra: The armor stays on during battle. It's kinda his thing.
Name: Tikkiwooooo "Tick"
Age: 4
Race: Ewok
Appearance:
Little shit with the tricked out sabersFaction: Galactic Republic
Force Sensitive: Yes
Occupation: Jedi Padawan
Bio: Born with unnaturally high intellect among his fellow Ewoks, Tikkiwooooo developed strange abilities none could explain. The Ewoks, being a tribal people, had never encountered species beyond their little forest moon. So when the young Ewok, deft and wise beyond his years, began to make things float? Well, he ended up being revered as some sort of god born to flesh. It wasn't until after some large man in metals too durable for the spears to penetrate descended inside a giant metal hawk that things began to make sense. He spoke their language, through some sort of double-speak magic, and told the young god that he could feel the pull of the force leading him to this fated meeting. Presuming this to be another god, his people pushed him to accompany the stranger that stood as tall as three Ewoks, being inserted in the giant metal hawk and taken beyond his world.
Half a year later, Tick has earned already learned the standard language to a decent degree, and has earned his lightsaber so as to become a padawan. His crystal was unique, split into two but still fully functioning. He was able to put the two lightsabers together to get a small double sided saber, or separate them with the push of a button to have two separate short sabers to use. His master gets frustrated easily at saying Tikkiwooooo's full name, so he was given the "nickname" of Tick.
Extra: Still doesn't know many common sense things, and is amazed by most things he hasn't seen already, which is most things.
(Will finish later, I suggest adding race under age because not everyone is human in star wars)
