Marcad
Another Snake
-
Name: CT-3902
Species: Human (Clone)
Age: 3 (Chronologically) | 20s (Biologically).
Gender: Male.
Height: 1.82 Meters
Weight: 73 kgs.
Physique: Bulk; Toned.
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Black
Skin Color: Tanned
Known Medical History:
- TBD
Contractual Allegiance(s): TBA.
Current Status: Active.
Homeworld: Arkania.
Known Residence: TBA
Languages Known:
Galactic Basic: Broken - Semi-Fluent - Fluent - Native.
High Galactic: Broken - Semi-Fluent - Fluent - Native.
Galactic Sign Language: Broken - Semi-Fluent - Fluent - Native.
Binary: Broken - Semi-Fluent - Fluent - Native.
Mando'a: Broken - Semi-Fluent - Fluent - Native.
Bocce: Broken - Semi-Fluent - Fluent - Native.
Huttese: Broken - Semi-Fluent - Fluent - Native.
Force Sensitive: No.
Known Alignment: TBD.
Marriage Status: Unmarried; Single.
Spouse: N/A.
Children: None.
Parent(s): None.
Siblings: Plenty of them.
-
Known Combat Training:
- Standard First-Aid Training.
- Standard Weapons Training
- Standard Demolitions Training
- Standard Survival Training
- Standard Marksman Training
- Advanced CQC Techniques.
- Stava
- Prismatic Self-Defense
- Hijkata
Distinguishing Features:
- TBD
- The Perfect Soldier
- Incredible Genes
- Loyal to a Fault
- Combat Pragmatist
- Knows Only War
- Narrow Minded
- Politics
- Orders are Orders
-
Behavioural Keywords:TBATBD
Bold - Capable - Dauntless - Rigid
Serious - Loyal - Dogmatic- Exploring.
Biography:
Things weren't always like this.
I remember a time of stability and order; everyone one of us does. We were all trained to kill and die for the Confederation, and all of us were anticipating that day, that one glorious day when the Supreme Chancellor would rally the people and deliver an epic speech which would be our prologue before entering a war. A war that fulfilled our purpose. We did get a war, eventually.
Just not the one I expected.
It all started when the Chancellor was reported MIA by his staff. Every system went priority one to find and rescue the Chancellor from his kidnappers. Days turned into weeks, and then months. We did our best to find him, but we returned empty handed. We clones were not observant or concerned with the politics on Coruscant. Politics were something not trained to us, nor at least understand the slightest of it.
So we trusted our other superiors to assess the situation and come up with a resolution while the Chancellor was still being found. We lived in a democracy, one made for the people and so we hoped for a good outcome.
Our hopes could never have been left down then ever.
What we hoped for a democratic process turned out into civil war. Generals, admirals, and moffs not able to find a compromise with each other and threatened to use their assets in order to claim central command of the Confederation. As soon as the first man did, everyone else did. Few were noble and righteous for their pursuits, and others were just hungry and greedy for power. That greed would become the downfall of the Confederation and make it impossible to salvage it.
Everyone had to pick a side, and so did we. The unit I serve, the 327th Star Corps, opted to serve this one pragmatic Imperial Warlord. The others of my brothers in their respective units? They also chose their own leaders to serve. A civil war will always have a brother fighting a brother. Imagine fighting a brother you were born with and bred in the same laboratories of Arkania only to come to this event. The same face killing the same face. The fighting went on for months, Warlords falling in defeat or conquering in victory. There was scheming; there was betrayal; there was corruption. Even the best Warlords fell to vices and sins that didn't fit the true agenda of the Confederation. Us clones were engineered and taught to bring peace and order to the Galaxy with the Confederation to lead us. That was a broken promise, a dead dream. I began to realize I wasn't serving the purpose I was trained for; so did my brothers. It's funny how us engineered clones could see more than these Warlords. Here I was thinking I couldn't produce a creative thought.
I no longer wanted to gun down one of my own. I thought all of my brothers outside the 327th as traitors back when this whole dilemma started. How foolish of me to believe so. When we remembered our true purpose, the reason why we were designed and produced we disobeyed the orders of our Warlords. They were caught by surprise, of course, believing that if we were ordered to jump off a cliff, we'd do it in a haste. The orders we were following were then recognized as false orders and conspiracies that betrayed the Confederation. Every Warlord lost a good chunk of their forces as they now had to rely on conscripts and other grunts that couldn't even shoot a sniper rifle with a tripod. We left them deep in the shit.
As for us? We took it upon ourselves to continue the legacy of the Confederation by doing what we were meant to do: to bring order and peace to the Galaxy. We'd do it by ourselves or someone that shared those same beliefs. We'd succeed or die trying.
And if we die, make it one for the books to immortalize us.
Last edited: