Isran Varad
R E C L A I M E R
R E C L A I M E R
ALLEGIANCE: The Confederacy | Clan Verd
SPECIES: Human
AGE: ---
HEIGHT: 6'0"
BUILD: Middleweight
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Black
SKIN: Brown
FORCE SENSITIVE: Yes
FACE: x
C R U S A D E R
Isley possesses a lifetime of leadership and combat experience.
Isley has familiarized himself with a variety of armaments, ranging from firearms to blades.
Isley is an experienced pilot of the Basilisk War Droid and excels in riding them into battle.
Sudden flashes of intense light (i.e. flashbangs) can cause Isley to seize. (Racial)
Isley is not a formal duelist and therefore suffers when pitted against experienced bladesmen and melee combat.
As the majority of Isley's arsenal feature electronics, EMP/Ion weaponry are especially effective.
A L O R
It all began with a fork in the road.
In the modern era, the name Darth Metus is one well known. Yet his greatest triumphs and most bitter defeats all stemmed from one, singular event. When the Sith Lord of the present was very young, he was born a child of Mandalore. He was raised by caring hands in the path of the warrior and given a heart of iron. By all accounts, he was a model warrior - he served his people well, raided as commanded by his Sole Ruler, and always hurried home whenever the call was made. However, what turned this young man's story to the Dark Side was a bad call. A patrol gone awry.
When the first Galactic Republic was yet a powerhouse in the modern Galaxy, the young warrior embarked on a patrol. In those days, there was a perpetual state of strife between the Mandalorian Clans and the Sith Empire. At their borders, there was always tension - and the Clans lived out each day anticipating when the next strike would be made against them. It was in this turbulent era that the young Mandalorian embarked on a routine patrol. His intel suggested that the border was quiet today; but that intel was dead wrong. When his starfighter dipped out of Hyperspace, it was greeted by the sight of numerous warships.
Tractor beams pulled him in before he could escape. Jammers prevented him from warning his people or calling for aide. In but mere moments, he was pulled into the belly of an Imperial Star Destroyer and stood before a man named Gregor Gideon. The Sith Knight was the hand of a revolutionary - Tyrin Ardik - and was readying their forces to take the Imperial throne by force. The young Mandalorian's presence was unwelcome, and by all accounts he should have been killed that day. On the spot. Yet Gregor felt potential stirring within the young man and so gave him a choice: aide him in striking a mighty blow to the Sith...or perish.
And by choosing life, Isley Verd chose the Dark Side. In accepting this offer, he cemented the path that would give rise to Darth Metus. But by treading down this fork in the road, a divergence was created. There began to an exist a possibility...a world where Isley took flight at the first opportunity. Where he, instead of seeing the coup through to the end, found the nearest starfighter he could and returned to his people as quickly as possible. In this divergent world, the Sith Lord would never come to exist.
In this world, Isley Verd never embraced the Force as his sword and shield. But rather lived by blade and blaster first. The Galaxy he called home was just as ripped apart by war as any other - but the only difference was that home was always Home. For all its struggles and imperfections, Mandalore was always the brightest star in Isley's skies. Immediately following his return from that divergent, he went on to serve his King as both a protector and student. Isley spent many years learning all he could from the venerable [member="Gilamar Skirata"] - from the trappings of running a corporation to what Honor truly looked like.
But as is the case with all worlds, there are some things that are set in stone. Some stories that are always bound to happen. And though Isley spent his days in dutiful service to Mandalore, the attack by Mia Monroe and Ijaat Mereel still occurred. The devastation still occurred. The Civil War prompted by this destruction still occurred. The Mandalorian Empire still occurred. He thought...that his allegiance was in the right place. It made sense to fight against those who had burned their homeworld to ash; and to support the victors in bringing restoration to their people. But when the Empire formed, what he discovered was segregation. The prospect of "curing" their own people from the Force was...barbaric in his mind.
He understood that, for as long as he could remember, their battles were against the Sith, the Republic, and all manner of Force-wielding sects. He understood that those who had struck the most painful blow to their people were indeed Sensitive as well. But what he could not wrap his mind around was subjecting their broken people to even more division. For a time, he quietly stewed on these thoughts and did nothing but serve dutifully. In silence, his disapproval grew - until the choice to be cured or not came home. His younger brother, Oron, was discovered to be Sensitive. But, instead of kneeling before the edict, he chose to bite back against the hands which shoved him. He would have chosen Exile overall, but the ensuing violence did not afford him this opportunity. He was struck down for his insolence - made to be an example.
And with a sibling lost to the lunacy, it was the elder brother who chose Exile. The Galaxy was always ripe with battles to be fought, and so Isley adopted the mantle of mercenary. He skated from battleground to battleground, amassing a comfortable living - but never truly was he satisfied. He hungered for Change - and found it whilst giving chase to his latest mark. His vessel cut through the Cularin asteroids, hunting his prey with relentless precision. Yet the orthodox nature of the system saw his vessel cast adrift. A flash of light erupted into being. All systems spontaneously fried. His mark got away, and Isley was forced to wait for his distress call to be answered. When the chase began, there was no sovereign nation in the vicinity. Only a loose coalition of worlds far, far into the Outer Rim.
But within minutes, Isley found himself picked up by a patrol whose vessels were marked with a symbol he did not recognize. The conversations he had with the kind souls who liberated him...boggled his mind. By all accounts, what they had to say was very similar to what he knew. The Mandalorian Empire existed. The Jedi, the Sith, all were present in the Galaxy. But there were slight differences...for example, who was Mand'alor the Infernal? What the heck was a Jen'ari? And when the hell did the southern systems start a Confederacy? Things began to get even stranger when the holocalls went unanswered...and when the holdings belonging to his Clan came up missing. There was no Clan Verd anywhere to be found - only whispers of some Vi'dreya something or other.
It slowly became apparent that this world was not his own. That this Galaxy was not his home. That everything he knew and loved was...gone. Or at least altered in more than one way. Here...he had no reason to stay his hands then. The place he knew as home had been lost...but here, he could Reclaim it.
