Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Húnd n d shī

Hundan Dashi

Hand me some detonite and a toothpick
NAME: Húndàn dàshī , born Fei Hoshiro Pianzi-Malchias


FACTION: Currently an independent idiot.

RANK: Technically heir aparrent to the Hoshiro Dynasty in Exile, but that is not a likely matter to deal with.

SPECIES: Arkanian Offshoot and Atrisian Human.

AGE: Looks late twenties, is closer to forty because of Arkanian

SEX: Male

HEIGHT: 5'6"

WEIGHT: Not much

EYES: Pale silver

HAIR: Straight white, usually in a mohawk or other short cut.

SKIN: Tawny brown. Surprisingly tanned for a guy who spends his days in lab basements and seedy cantinas.

FORCE SENSITIVE: No, but he's been known to fake it on occasion.



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STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (Required: 2 Weaknesses Minimum) :

The good:
+ I do have such Marvelous Toys: Hundan is quite the techspert, able to cobble together custom weapons, gear, and tech with surprisingly few issues, even on his budget of "Rampaging idiot hobo."
+ More like Teras Krazi: Using a mixture of informal hand-to-hand training, traditional Atrisian combat, and lots of hidden weapons, Hundan has developed an effective, if highly unethical, fighting style well-suited to mugging, boarding actions, and aggressive banditry.
+ Sage, Rosemary and Time: His Arkanian blood helps him live longer.
+ Slice, dice, and served for credits: Hundan can crack most tech, stolen or otherwise, given the time and some tools.
+ Eyes like gems: Hundan can see slightly better than average in dimly lit areas.

The Bad:
- Glass Jaw in a room full of Hammers: Whatever made him smart and long-lived, also makes his ability to take a hit suck. Hence why is fighting style revolves around cheating and dodging.
- Eyes full of Starlight: The white Arkanian eyes and the human sclera seem to provide a messy situation, makes him a bit shortsighted in the literal sense. Long-range weapons tend to be a little off in the aim.
- This is why we can't have nice things: Hundan's half-rigged tech and absolutely nutty designs aren't the kind of things you can reliably reproduce, as his manic approach to design often involves forgetting how he built what he built.
- Rob like a Prince: Hundan operates on a rather unique code of honor based on Atrisian nobility and what he considers 'ethical criminality.' He will pull his punches for odd reasons.
- Pack like a Thief: Hundan hoards things, as he never knows what he'll use for his next gadget or heist. This results in his living areas being cluttered piles of alien geometry.
- Monologue like a Nerd: his tangents can get a little too wild at times. Sometimes it intimidates his foes. Other times it gets him punched in the face.


The also:
* Airhead apparent: He actually does hold both the seal and the bloodline of the Hoshiro Dynasty, and could lay claim to the throne of Atrisia. He doesn't want to, though, since civil wars are a pain in the butt.
* Of course I know a guy: Hundan has a bit of a reputation with the Reki, as a contractor.
* Are you ready to rock: Hundan is a pretty decent keyboardist, and okay with a ukulele. Not good enough to do it for a living, though.


APPEARANCE:


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Often wearing either leathers or silks, Hundan's look is somewhere between "space ganger trash" and "weirdly charming rogue." He often wears a mo-hawk or a faded top look, although he occasionally grows his white mess out on a whim.




BIOGRAPHY:


Once upon a time, there was a dynasty known as Hoshiro, which ruled within the Atrisian empire, nobly and honorably. Then, they were deposed, and overthrown. As it was considered bad form to kill the losers in a dynastic war, the noble house and it's retainers were instead exiled to a back-waterr world, a Penal Colony for Atrisian dissidents, in an attempt to keep your friends close, and your enemies on a short leash.

As centuries continued, the Empire's control over its colonies faded for other, different planets, and my family--a messy disaster area of a bunch of weird, embittered ex-royals with grudges against families that no longer thrive--also had its fortunes rise and fall, and dwindled. My grandfather, no longer a noble, simply a barkeeper on a backwater world named "Lian." My grandfather, running a bar, fell in love with a woman from across the stars, with silver hair and a smile like the moon. And somehow, that man managed not only to love her, but keep her. And that silver-haired woman became the Tinker of Lian, the Chained world. They had a son, my father, an intrepid spacer, who was brave, and noble, and heroic--and died fighting off slavers.


I'm not brave. I'm not heroic. I'm not noble. And I'm not dead. Neither is grandma, who taught me everything I know about tinkering. Gramps and the bar--well, that's passed on, too, but I'm not drunk enough to finish that story today. After all, this is about me, ain't it? Good. Once upon a time, there was a boy who knew his name, and knew the power it kept. So he lied about it. You can call me Hundan. And now that we're done with introductions, let's talk about rates. I'm very reasonable, and I know what it takes to get the job done. 25% up front, not negotiable, Omae. And if you want to play hardball, then you can find another genius slicer--one who doesn't know what you left Corellia over. Nah, that wasn't a threat. Jsut explaining how I'm very good at what I do. Truth has a price, and if you pay it, I'll find it.
 

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