Elias Dashiell
Character
ELIAS DASHIELL
Age: 20 GSY.
Species: Human.
Gender: Male.
Height: 6'0".
Build: Lean.
Complexion: Caucasian (Lightly tanned).
Mother: Saffron Reade.
Father: Ezekiel Dashiell.
Sister: Persephone Dashiell.
Force Sensitive: Non-Force User.
PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS:
- Confident & fiercely independent: Elias has spent his life getting by by whatever means necessary, with nothing ever handed to him without a price; because of this, he has learned to trust his instincts, make his own decisions, and value every skill he acquires through hard work. At times, his confidence can be a double-edged sword, growing cocky and dismissive of other people's views or concerns.
- Resourceful and adaptable: From street life to basic training in the local military, Elias has learned to think on his feet, using the tools he's given to overcome the challenges set before him. He's discerning, assertive and sharp, equally so with a blaster rifle in hand. Having taken on the trade of a vehicular engineer (Mechanic), he also knows his way around smaller-sized craft (Starfighters & Freighters), making him an asset for any crew looking to hire.
- Fear of abandonment: A trauma response in the wake of his mom's death in his younger years, Elias has never addressed these issues and has made a habit of keeping others at arm's length. He refuses to discuss his parents or his past, even with those lucky enough to be considered friends, and would rather keep looking forward to the next big payout.
- Wary by nature: "Trust only gives people the freedom to turn on you." Simply put, Elias does not open himself up to trusting or relying on others, believing it is far better to do things himself than put his faith in another's hands. He believes everyone has a motive to do what's in their own best interests, and he's learned that loyalty is a novel concept in today's harsh Galaxy. The only sure thing in this life is what he is willing to do to care for himself.
| BRAWLER |
| MELEE WEAPON PROFICIENCY |
| SMALL-ARMS PROFICIENCY |
| INFANTRY TRAINING |
| MECHANIC |
| MERCENARY |
*Skill/Ability Icons can be found HERE
BACKGROUND:
Life kicked me in the teeth pretty early on. My folks weren't saints by no means; the old man Zeke was a pirate and a drunk; My old lady a "dancer", or so she told me. She kept a roof over my head, food on the table and whatnot. We weren't exactly comfortable, but we got by with the essentials. From time to time, Ezekiel would show up and remind us he was still alive and kicking, but for the most part it was just Mom and me until she got sick.
Around this time, the old man was on the run from someone or something, and with Mom dead, he didn't exactly have time to play Dad. I'm sure someone tried to reach him, but he never showed. Looking back, I'm doing a lot of the same chit now that he was doing then, but turning your back on your kid is pretty harsh even by my standards. Without the old lady or the old man, I took off before the powers-that-be shipped me off to a group of strangers.
The thing about Tol Amn, though, is that it's close enough to Nar Shaddaa and Nal Hutta to still make friends in all the wrong circles. Perhaps friend is too generous a word, but when I was young, I didn't know any better. I was taken in by some folks of another kid I knew, and we got into the usual trouble that kids find when their families' broke both credit and integrity. Stealing, fighting, joyriding, you name it. As we got older, I got introduced to stims and picked up the unhealthy habit, thinking it'd help me fit in with what was, by this time, a sort of street gang, I suppose- all brawn and no brains...
A year or so later, we got pinched trying to steal from the mercantile quarter. Rather than do time, I was given the out to enlist in the service corps, local military, though more a militia compared to most. Guess they figured it was easy recruitment, but it would only teach me skills I'd put to use later on. A few years on, my attitude hadn't changed much, but I could fight a hell of a lot better, not just with my fists but also trained in small-arms munitions. I don't know what they were thinking.
I learned a trade, knowing I'd eventually jump off world and needed the credits. Tol Amn wasn't your particular hotspot in the Galaxy, but it always attracted other ships because it was so close to the Oktus Route. I figured becoming a mechanic would give me a consistent hourly rate and let me put my head down for a few more years, complete an apprenticeship, and eventually save enough to barter passage off-world.
Tol Amn may be my home planet, but it was a hole, and I inevitably lost touch with the friends I made there. My pockets were nearing empty, and I didn't have much in the way of belongings. Nar Shaddaa was well known for all kinds of folk who didn't necessarily care about paying under the table, so that's where I landed - Picking up whatever jobs I could get my hands on until I made a name for myself, someone who cared less about walking the line as long as the pay was good. That's basically how I wound up doing what I do now: freelancing for anyone who needs a firm hand. Doesn't matter where the job is, doesn't matter what it entails, only that I get paid.