Irilius Tiam
Character
NAME:
[SIZE=11pt]Irilius Tiam[/SIZE][SIZE=11pt]FACTION: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Sith Empire[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]RANK: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Commodore[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]SPECIES: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Morganian[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]AGE: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]29[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]SEX: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Male[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]HEIGHT: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]1.85 Meters[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]WEIGHT: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]88.4 Kilograms[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]EYES: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Yellow-Orange[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]HAIR: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]White as snow[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]SKIN: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Pale, with a slight purple hew [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]FORCE SENSITIVE: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Unable to use the Force[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]APPEARANCE: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Irilius has more or less abused the natural traits of a Morganian to become a “Navy pretty boy”, fair skin and well kept hair, barely a blemish on his body. All of which fuels into trying to seem as friendly as he can, besides, who doesn’t like a pretty face in power? He is not physically imposing, fit and somewhat tall: his place is in the command chair. Not in combat, and it shows.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]PERSONALITY:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Irilius is a pragmatist, plain and simple. Anything can be disregarded for his goals at the end of the day, power and prestige are the things that will make life turn and leave him in a far better position than his life ever would’ve been prior. And so does this vile pragmatism lead into his hunt for power, allies and rivals is all there is in this Galaxy: and the line between them blurs depending on the day.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]BIOGRAPHY:[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Irilius is born of anarchy, the disorder of his home world and with this he was warped into the creature he is today, there is a level of selfishness one needed to survive in the Morgania System. And so did the young boy take it in stride, and he learned pragmatism: through a willingness to abandon those who had once been his allies, use who had once been his allies he could reach greater success than ever before. Not that he speaks so openly about these things, no need to frighten his poor poor colleagues. With these manipulations in hand, he escaped his downtrodden system: and went on to abuse the natural beauty of his species. Such is a gift of being pleasing to the eye.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]So did he live a mundane life, finding work aboard a Mining Frigate, watching the Galaxy turn and churn in his still fairly young age. Finding himself frequenting the dregs of the Galax, for he knew nowhere else. For the time being, at least. For in the north darkness grew, and that darkness was the order he craved. An escape from anarchy and chaos, and finally to begin fixing the Galaxy through whatever means were necessary. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]Finding himself in the Imperial Academy after manipulating the Miners into Imperial space, his knack was found in the form of naval warfare. The might of the Armada would be a fine way to bring some semblance of peace to those systems plagued by disorder and anarchy, much like his home. So went his manipulations once more, using many of his fellow students as stepping stones to a good graduating record, such was simply how his mind worked. Friends were made and they were lost, all in the name of prestige, and through prestige he could enact his goals. [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]With this in hand, he learned and adapted to the art of naval warfare. Extracting all the best bits of knowledge and skills from his associates that he could, graduating from the academy as one of the top students of his class: and a long list of enemies left behind it. But such was the path to success, the fine rank of Commodore falling into his lap.[/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]KILLS: [/SIZE]
[SIZE=11pt]N/A[/SIZE]