Hannibal Daxos
Character
Hannibal Daxos
| Age | Teenager |
| Species | Human |
| Gender | Male |
| Height | 6' 1" |
| Weight | 180 |
| Force Sensitive | No |
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Hannibal Daxos is tall for his age, lean from strict Academy regimens, with sharp features that give him a severe, almost angular look. His dark hair is kept short and regulation neat, framing pale blue eyes.
INVENTORY
N/A
PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS
Resentful – Holds lingering bitterness toward his family for not supporting him, though deep down, the rejection still stings.
Idealistic (Empire-loyal) – He truly believes the Empire brings stability to a fractured galaxy, buying into its propaganda with youthful fervor.
Guarded – Shows little vulnerability around peers; rarely lets anyone close enough to see doubt or weakness.
STRENGTHS
Intelligent – Possesses sharp tactical instincts, quick to analyze patterns and adapt strategies both in and out of simulations.
Quick Learner – Picks up tactical instruction and technical skills fast, especially in simulations and drills.
Adaptive – Street-smart from Coruscant life, able to read people and situations well.
Resilient – Can push through exhaustion, hardship, or harsh treatment at the Academy with quiet determination.
WEAKNESSES
Stubborn – Rarely admits he's wrong, digging in during arguments with peers or superiors.
Emotionally Detached – Struggles to process his family's rejection, burying it beneath rigid loyalty to the Empire.
Overzealous – Sometimes too eager to prove himself, rushing into decisions or volunteering for dangerous assignments.
Prideful – Holds himself to high standards but resents failure, taking setbacks harshly.
HISTORY
Born and raised in the crowded skylanes of Coruscant's lower mid-levels, he grew up in the shadow of durasteel towers and neon markets. His family were modest civil servants—his father working in administrative logistics for the Bureau of Ships and Services, his mother an archivist in one of the countless district repositories. They weren't poor, but they lived without luxury, eking out a stable but unremarkable life in the constant hum of the galactic capital.
When the emergence of the Empire showed and they took over Coruscant he was fascinated by the holoreports of the Empire, parades of stormtroopers in immaculate white, officers in crisp uniforms, fleets of star destroyers stretching across the stars. To him, it was discipline, order, and purpose. Something far greater than the endless grind of bureaucracy he saw at home. His parents were wary of the Empire's growing reach. Though careful not to voice dissent too loudly, they urged him to pursue stable work in the civil sector, warning that the Imperial war machine consumed its soldiers and forgot their names. His older sister shared their views, leaning toward academia, while he bristled against it. Arguments at the dinner table became frequent, his father's pragmatism clashing with his idealism, his mother's quiet pleas for safety cutting against his hunger for something more.
At 17, he began secretly applying to the Imperial Academy, passing the aptitude tests with above-average marks in tactics, piloting simulations, and discipline assessments. At eighteen, he received his acceptance notice. Against his family's protests, he packed his things and left. The fight that night was final: his father accusing him of throwing away his life, his mother begging him to reconsider. He left without looking back, boarding a transport shuttle under the shadow of the Senate Dome. His family never answered his comms again.