NAME: Allan Bandar, Alain Cuthworth, Alan Demedich, Alin Bindi
FACTION: Do what you like, a pirate is free
RANK: I am a pirate
SPECIES: Pantoran
AGE: Early forties.
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 5'11"
WEIGHT: 202
EYES: Yellow
HAIR: Black
SKIN: Blue, very rarely with yellow markings
FORCE SENSITIVE: No
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STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES :
+ Why won't you die?!: Allan is not the greatest fighter and is a mediocre shot, but he's extremely tenacious and not ashamed to find an exit when things start going south. He's been all over the Galaxy and targeted by all sorts of people, which has made him very, very good at judging which fights he can win and, more, when playing dead is the best option.
+ Cafapal: Throughout his life, Allan has worked inside many pleasure houses, dance halls and champagne rooms as an enforcer or bouncer. He's got many friends in that industry, and keeps frequent contact with most of them.
- Know when to fold 'em: Allan has been a mercenary for many years, and has only lasted for those many years by knowing when to cut and run. As a result, his reputation isn't the greatest and finding 'legitimate' mercenary work compared to all the hyper-capable commandos and fanatic, fearless Mandolorians in the Galaxy is often a challenge. If someone knows who Allan is and they aren't a hooker, chances are they don't have a flattering opinion of him.
- Rapturous: For whatever reason, something in his brain chemistry or involving the loss of his eye, Allan is especially susceptible to hyper-rapture. Prolonged space travel tends to leave him anxiety-riddled and sleepless, or near-catatonia. Actually watching the kaleidoscope passage of Hyperspace usually results in brief fits of madness, violence, and savagery that get more pronounced with each event.
APPEARANCE:
Unimposing and relatively nondescript, Allan is one among the millions of men made hard and haggard by a galaxy in love with war. He typically wears a faded dewback leather jacket with worn-out jeans, and often carries a M-12 "Kath Hound" Shotgun on a low-hung holster on his hip, so the heavy weapon his adjacent to his left leg and in plain sight. Having lost his right eye years ago, Allan wears a plain black patch over the socket. Although he's in relatively good shape, Allan won't be winning any beauty contests - between his scars, haggard appearance and slight belly, he's no perfect specimen.
Even though he isn't much of a warrior, Allan tends to walk with a confident, casual sort of swagger that projects control over his surroundings - a habit born of years of security work and reinforced by his often times improbable ability to escape dangerous situations with his life. He speaks clearly and enunciates carefully, both from having painstakingly trained his accent away and from coralling disagreeable customers or rivals. In spite of his haggard appearance, Allan's hair is almost always nearly brushed, and his shirt is rarely seen untucked, a care to his appearance that does not extend to his nigh-permanent 5 o'clock shadow and tired eyes.
BIO:
Born Alin Bindi of house Bindi on Pantora, Allan began his life as a shipping merchant's son. When he became old enough that inheriting the family business was a valid concern, he was sent off to learn the trade first hand - an event that only lasted until his ship was beset by Bando Gora reavers. Aside from the loss of his eye, Allan survived the attack mostly intact, but soon had a falling out with his family and went AWOL on Zeltros, what he'd heard was a land of a million pleasures. It turned out to be more the land of a million things his broke rear couldn't afford. Young and in relatively good shape, Allan soon found work as hired muscle. His general higher value on his own well-being over that of the job made work slightly difficult, until Allan developed the talent of lying about who he was, but he found he rather liked working defense - protecting fragile 'merchandise' was easier and safer than roughing up debtors and enemies. Allan quickly developed a rapport with many of the men and women under his protection, which only made looking after them even more appealing.
Every few years when money got tight or he'd built up too much of a name for himself, (often due to the Peter Principle,) Allan would leave whatever planet he'd been working on to sign on as a mook in whatever war or border skirmish was going on. Other times, he'd sign onto a smuggling or pirate crew. These events tended not to be long-term arrangements, and invariably Allan would return to Zeltros, Nar Shadda, or wherever with a bit more credit and a couple more scars for his trouble. At that point, it was right back to old habits.
He's recently thrown his lot in with a pirate crew.
FACTION: Do what you like, a pirate is free
RANK: I am a pirate
SPECIES: Pantoran
AGE: Early forties.
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 5'11"
WEIGHT: 202
EYES: Yellow
HAIR: Black
SKIN: Blue, very rarely with yellow markings
FORCE SENSITIVE: No
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES :
+ Why won't you die?!: Allan is not the greatest fighter and is a mediocre shot, but he's extremely tenacious and not ashamed to find an exit when things start going south. He's been all over the Galaxy and targeted by all sorts of people, which has made him very, very good at judging which fights he can win and, more, when playing dead is the best option.
+ Cafapal: Throughout his life, Allan has worked inside many pleasure houses, dance halls and champagne rooms as an enforcer or bouncer. He's got many friends in that industry, and keeps frequent contact with most of them.
- Know when to fold 'em: Allan has been a mercenary for many years, and has only lasted for those many years by knowing when to cut and run. As a result, his reputation isn't the greatest and finding 'legitimate' mercenary work compared to all the hyper-capable commandos and fanatic, fearless Mandolorians in the Galaxy is often a challenge. If someone knows who Allan is and they aren't a hooker, chances are they don't have a flattering opinion of him.
- Rapturous: For whatever reason, something in his brain chemistry or involving the loss of his eye, Allan is especially susceptible to hyper-rapture. Prolonged space travel tends to leave him anxiety-riddled and sleepless, or near-catatonia. Actually watching the kaleidoscope passage of Hyperspace usually results in brief fits of madness, violence, and savagery that get more pronounced with each event.
APPEARANCE:
Unimposing and relatively nondescript, Allan is one among the millions of men made hard and haggard by a galaxy in love with war. He typically wears a faded dewback leather jacket with worn-out jeans, and often carries a M-12 "Kath Hound" Shotgun on a low-hung holster on his hip, so the heavy weapon his adjacent to his left leg and in plain sight. Having lost his right eye years ago, Allan wears a plain black patch over the socket. Although he's in relatively good shape, Allan won't be winning any beauty contests - between his scars, haggard appearance and slight belly, he's no perfect specimen.
Even though he isn't much of a warrior, Allan tends to walk with a confident, casual sort of swagger that projects control over his surroundings - a habit born of years of security work and reinforced by his often times improbable ability to escape dangerous situations with his life. He speaks clearly and enunciates carefully, both from having painstakingly trained his accent away and from coralling disagreeable customers or rivals. In spite of his haggard appearance, Allan's hair is almost always nearly brushed, and his shirt is rarely seen untucked, a care to his appearance that does not extend to his nigh-permanent 5 o'clock shadow and tired eyes.
BIO:
Born Alin Bindi of house Bindi on Pantora, Allan began his life as a shipping merchant's son. When he became old enough that inheriting the family business was a valid concern, he was sent off to learn the trade first hand - an event that only lasted until his ship was beset by Bando Gora reavers. Aside from the loss of his eye, Allan survived the attack mostly intact, but soon had a falling out with his family and went AWOL on Zeltros, what he'd heard was a land of a million pleasures. It turned out to be more the land of a million things his broke rear couldn't afford. Young and in relatively good shape, Allan soon found work as hired muscle. His general higher value on his own well-being over that of the job made work slightly difficult, until Allan developed the talent of lying about who he was, but he found he rather liked working defense - protecting fragile 'merchandise' was easier and safer than roughing up debtors and enemies. Allan quickly developed a rapport with many of the men and women under his protection, which only made looking after them even more appealing.
Every few years when money got tight or he'd built up too much of a name for himself, (often due to the Peter Principle,) Allan would leave whatever planet he'd been working on to sign on as a mook in whatever war or border skirmish was going on. Other times, he'd sign onto a smuggling or pirate crew. These events tended not to be long-term arrangements, and invariably Allan would return to Zeltros, Nar Shadda, or wherever with a bit more credit and a couple more scars for his trouble. At that point, it was right back to old habits.
He's recently thrown his lot in with a pirate crew.