Astin Vero
Who Are You, Really?
This is all [member="Stephanie Swail"]'s fault.
Name: Astin Vero
Age: 27
Sex: Male
Species: Human
Force sensitive: Force dead
Appearance: Astin is a man who was, in part, made for war. Standing at 6’3” and 154lbs, he cuts an intimidating figure even outside of his battlefield attire. His form is toned with muscle, and it’s obvious he’s more than capable of handling himself in most any scenario. Light brunette hair falls to just at his shoulders, a slight stubble inhabiting his face just as often as not, stormy grey blue eyes being his most recognizable feature for the mask he often wears that covers the lower half of his face.
Distinguishing marks:
Faction: N/A
Rank: Assassin/soldier
Strengths:
+ Synthetically enhanced strength, speed and overall physique.
+ Highly trained soldier and assassin.
+ Expert martial artist.
Weaknesses:
- Largely socially inept. (This won’t change through RP.)
- Childlike baseline emotions, due to not having learned or developed complex emotional responses during his “creation.”
- Suffers from atrial tachycardia that can become inhibiting over a largely strenuous period of time; may be a consequence of artificially enhanced physical capabilities.
- Fragmented memories.
Bio:
There isn’t much Astin really remembers from the time before, as he puts it, though his life didn’t begin in that Republic laboratory. No, he was born on Chazwa, one of the few planets that has stood as the capital of the Republic over the years. That much he is able to recall and name as his true beginning, though anything beyond the name of his home-planet escapes him, only blurry and dim recollections of his actual childhood surfacing every once in a while, those memories sporadic at best, impossible to glimpse at in full most of the time. And so his early life is left under much speculation which, given his circumstances, is probably for the best.
Once he was of age he enlisted in the Republic military despite retaining a meager sort of Force sensitivity for himself, one that granted heightened reflexes, but not much more. While the life of a soldier wasn’t an easy one to adjust to, he quickly found his place among the ranks, settling in as just another young man waiting for the chance to prove himself. During basic training he had steadily maintained his place towards the top of his squad, never quite erring into the territory of showing off, but not allowing himself to be pushed down in the ranks either. It was a steady determination, but one that never wavered.
His first few combat missions were nothing to speak of, and there’s only one that he recalls in skewed fragments, and that is the day the Sith attacked Chazwa. For him that was the day everything changed. In the months previous he had found himself enlisted in a top secret project to produce the next breed of soldier and Jedi, and despite his limited sensitivity to the ethereal he had been chosen as one of the candidates. This was to be his last mission before the trials began, and it certainly was. The only memories he has are strongly sensory related, and there were times afterwards when he could still smell the harshness of burnt ozone and gunpowder, the iron tang of blood still fresh on his tongue. That day was hell brought to reality, and it only cemented his loyalty to the Republic.
If there is one thing he remains thankful for, it’s the fact that the serum largely fragmented his memories after the process was cut short due to Sith interjection. Once that grenade was thrown his new life began, the first real act of it being losing his left arm under the rubble, passing out thanks to shock and blood loss even with his enhanced physical form. When he next awoke he was back in another lab, his only recollections being chaos, confusion and pain. He does recall one thing, and that is awakening to his new life as a warrior of the Dark rather than the Light, feeling strangely cut off from the ethereal, new metal limb gleaming in the light.
Roleplays (in roughly IC chronological order):
You're My Mission
"I know I never used to feel like this. I used to never think of death or hear voices. I used to feel like everything was perfectly in order, a normal life, but I guess then came departure."
Name: Astin Vero
- Subject #16309; “Praev”
Age: 27
Sex: Male
Species: Human
Force sensitive: Force dead
Appearance: Astin is a man who was, in part, made for war. Standing at 6’3” and 154lbs, he cuts an intimidating figure even outside of his battlefield attire. His form is toned with muscle, and it’s obvious he’s more than capable of handling himself in most any scenario. Light brunette hair falls to just at his shoulders, a slight stubble inhabiting his face just as often as not, stormy grey blue eyes being his most recognizable feature for the mask he often wears that covers the lower half of his face.
Distinguishing marks:
- Cybernetic left arm.
Faction: N/A
Rank: Assassin/soldier
Strengths:
+ Synthetically enhanced strength, speed and overall physique.
+ Highly trained soldier and assassin.
+ Expert martial artist.
Weaknesses:
- Largely socially inept. (This won’t change through RP.)
- Childlike baseline emotions, due to not having learned or developed complex emotional responses during his “creation.”
- Suffers from atrial tachycardia that can become inhibiting over a largely strenuous period of time; may be a consequence of artificially enhanced physical capabilities.
- Fragmented memories.
Bio:
There isn’t much Astin really remembers from the time before, as he puts it, though his life didn’t begin in that Republic laboratory. No, he was born on Chazwa, one of the few planets that has stood as the capital of the Republic over the years. That much he is able to recall and name as his true beginning, though anything beyond the name of his home-planet escapes him, only blurry and dim recollections of his actual childhood surfacing every once in a while, those memories sporadic at best, impossible to glimpse at in full most of the time. And so his early life is left under much speculation which, given his circumstances, is probably for the best.
Once he was of age he enlisted in the Republic military despite retaining a meager sort of Force sensitivity for himself, one that granted heightened reflexes, but not much more. While the life of a soldier wasn’t an easy one to adjust to, he quickly found his place among the ranks, settling in as just another young man waiting for the chance to prove himself. During basic training he had steadily maintained his place towards the top of his squad, never quite erring into the territory of showing off, but not allowing himself to be pushed down in the ranks either. It was a steady determination, but one that never wavered.
His first few combat missions were nothing to speak of, and there’s only one that he recalls in skewed fragments, and that is the day the Sith attacked Chazwa. For him that was the day everything changed. In the months previous he had found himself enlisted in a top secret project to produce the next breed of soldier and Jedi, and despite his limited sensitivity to the ethereal he had been chosen as one of the candidates. This was to be his last mission before the trials began, and it certainly was. The only memories he has are strongly sensory related, and there were times afterwards when he could still smell the harshness of burnt ozone and gunpowder, the iron tang of blood still fresh on his tongue. That day was hell brought to reality, and it only cemented his loyalty to the Republic.
If there is one thing he remains thankful for, it’s the fact that the serum largely fragmented his memories after the process was cut short due to Sith interjection. Once that grenade was thrown his new life began, the first real act of it being losing his left arm under the rubble, passing out thanks to shock and blood loss even with his enhanced physical form. When he next awoke he was back in another lab, his only recollections being chaos, confusion and pain. He does recall one thing, and that is awakening to his new life as a warrior of the Dark rather than the Light, feeling strangely cut off from the ethereal, new metal limb gleaming in the light.
Roleplays (in roughly IC chronological order):
You're My Mission
