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Haven

W A N D E R E R
Writer
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H A V E N
Ricky Whittle[/URL]
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HERITAGE
From a very young age, Haven endured a rigorous upbringing which blended martial tactics, weapon versatility, and general education.
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Enforcer

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UNRELENTING
Haven has cultivated an above-average prowess with Telekinesis over time.

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NAVIGATOR
Due to his line of work, Haven is well versed in Hyperspace "back doors" throughout the Outer Rim.

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SENSITIVITY
Sudden, intense flashes of light can immediately cause Haven to seize.

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DUELIST
Haven is consistently below-average when it comes to melee encounters.

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ADDICTION
Having over-indulged in glitterstim, Haven suffers from occasional loss of sight in his left eye.

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Good is Temporary. That's a very cynical thing to say out loud. But. It's as true as the sun coming up every morning. It's as true as gravity keeping my feet on the ground. I wish that it wasn't a fact of life, but in my experience it's just how mother nature works. For me, everything started out well. Everything was, well, good. I had folks, didn't really want for anything growing up, and as far as I can recall we were happy. There were no wars to fight, no battles at home - just...normal stuff.

Well, that good was temporary. I was about...what, twelve when chit hit the fan? Pop was in politics, so he always had a fat target painted on his back. But, he wasn't one of those fat cats who had bodyguards do all the work. He could handle himself, so I thought. I don't remember how it all went down, admittedly, I wasn't there. Just remember coming home from and seeing Ma in the kitchen. Crying. One thing about Ma? She never cried. That's when I knew things were bad.

Like, she was the type of lady who could slice her finger open and not blink. No lie. Anyway. Apparently Pop pissed off one too many people and got smoked for it. And Ma, well, she lost her damn mind after that. I don't mean "lock in a padded room and come visit" type crazy either. She went from tears to cold to angry faster than I can blink. And, well, she got into politics too. Hard. Took over for Pop and started siccing the army on whoever and whatever looked at her funny.

Now, being honest, I didn't really get to see her in action. She sent me off to a military school way out in bum-kark-nowhere right after Pop passed. I heard all about how she did business through the grapevine. Thought it was just the other guys being dillholes - got into plenty of fights sticking up for Ma too. Y'know, typical kid stuff. And, when I got into chit, Ma wasn't even the one to show up. Either a droid or one of my aunts came to deal with it. That...Well...That's when I knew maybe there was some truth to the bullchit.

After a couple years, I bounced. Tried to go home and see how deep the rabbit hole went. When I got there? I couldn't even recognize the place. Home...Wasn't home anymore. And Ma? Well, she didn't look good on a throne. But she sure sat on one. I couldn't deal. She didn't even look at me the same. It was like...I didn't exist to her. I was no one, just like those droids she sent to the school. So, I kept it moving. Wasn't going to rot in that prison and damn sure wasn't going to watch whatever she was turning into.

Ended up in Hutt Space. Around that time, everything was still...okay on a grand scale, so work for a kid who went to military school was scarce. So, put all that "expertise" to work where it would get me paid. Started out as a thug keeping the lookey-loos away from the Boss' cantina - ended up being a personal bodyguard. Wasn't lucrative, but I had plenty of spice, cash, and tail over time. Things were good.

That didn't last long, because Ma came knocking. She was like a hammer to Hutt Space, hunted down every ounce of spice she could. Made it so that so much as sniffing the chit was a capital offense. They gunned down people in the streets, good people. Not the cleanest or brightest mind, but they weren't hurting nobody but themselves. I...I got lucky. They had a blaster to my head but let me off because of who I was.

So, I laid low. Being a spice toting bastard isn't a line of work that dies out from a massacre or two. Just means extra care had to be taken. It was either get paid or die - literally. We never fully came back from the crackdown. There wasn't any abundance of good times rollin'. We risked our skins just to eat - and frankly, it wasn't sustainable after a couple years. We started turning on each other, more so than usual. It wasn't about control, it was about making sure our camp had enough customers to feed.

We called what came after the Spice War. It was a mess. Brutal. We were cutting each other down in the alleys, karking with each others' ships so that we blew up on takeoff - really nasty chit. Around that time, I met up with an old pal who I hadn't seen since the actual, good ol days. He wanted me to help him go after his sister, Katrine, but needed a pilot worth a damn to pull it off. At first, I told him where to stick his sister - but money talked.

We took a one way trip to Cularin and man when I say turbulence. There was a light, he started mumbling some whacky poodoo, and before you know it my ship is straight busted. Straight busted. At that point, it was send a distress signal and hope for the best...or starve.

We got picked up by some Droids. They had Ma's flag on them - but didn't know who the Hell I was. Seren was giddy as heck about it, saying "it worked, it worked!" What worked, you ask?

You wouldn't believe me if I told you.

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Valgærd

Well-Known Member
Writer
[member="Umakq Byeho Atreides"] you can't burn what you can't catch!

*Flies away with her magnificent wings*

*swoops back and grabs [member="Haven"] *

*Flies away again*
 

Zanira Fenni

Guest
Z
[member="Umakq Byeho Atreides"]
Burn like the inside of that filthy Thyrsian brain.

[member="Haven"]
Dope avatar choice.
 

Valgærd

Well-Known Member
Writer
[member="Umakq Byeho Atreides"] Burn? An angel? If you think you can...

You are welcome to try :3




[member="Haven"] help I think I just did something really dumb...
 
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