Jackson “Grimlock”
Character
Jackson Blake "Grimlock"
"Make no mistake. I'm not asking you to kick in with me, I'm telling you."
FACTION: N/A
SPECIES: Human
AGE: 22
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 5'10
WEIGHT: 179lbs
EYES: Chestnut Brown
HAIR: Midnight Black
SKIN: Light Beige
FORCE SENSITIVE: No
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Personality Strengths:
Persistence: You want a job done? Give him a sack of credits and a list of names. Grimlock prides himself in being a master at a successful heist. When his crew gets in, there is no leaving till the mission is completed. Anyone under his leadership tries to bale out, they usually take a bullet to the skull. Citizenship: To a man like Grimlock, his crew is the only family he has. Each member that has stumbled his way has earned his respect. As long as you do your job, you are family. His team is comprised of people who have had it rough when it comes to living in the galaxy, and he would take a slug for any one of them.
Personality Weaknesses:
Takes too many risks: A job is a job, and even if the work is too much for his crew, Jackson wants it done. During one mission, there were hundreds of shadow troops trying to barge in on the site. Jackson's crew still had fifteen minutes left to crack the safe, they escaped with the credits, but one of the crewmate's took a shot to the leg. There are more tales similar to this one, but Grimlock doesn't like to talk about the close calls, only the success of the mission.Loose-tongued: Jackson is a little too outspoken. When he's not completing a job, he's usually making fun of some poor Hutt about their weight. Very sarcastic by nature, and it is all fun and games to him. Sometimes when a client is getting snarky, Grimlock will start to harass them till they walk out the door, frustrated.
Appearance:
His wardrobe consists of:The signature helmet that Grimlock wears is made out of titanium. He acquired this helm from a space pirate known as Galvus. After receiving a job from a thug, whom was robbed by Galvus, Grimlock and his team met up with the notorious man, killed him and his crew. After that moment, Jackson never removed the helmet, and soon his own soldiers forgot what he looked like.
A chestnut leather jacket.
An armor chest-piece fashioned from a Zillo Beast scale. This armor covers his entire torso and every part of his arms down to the wrists.
Oil-colored gloves that had simple plates on the dorsal side of his hand. Matching boots that had metal plates that cover his laces.
Grey pants that were equipped with two gun holsters (one on each side) and one holster for a knife.
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Weapons:
Standard weapons include: Two Sig P226s. (Grimlock is fascinated with past technological advances). A Kris knife, made of durasteel. The knife was acquired from the black market located on Depatar. Grimlock spent about 250,000 credits for the knife.
Biography:
Jackson Blake was born on the planet Corellia. Known for being a planet comprised of the very best pilots, it was also the home of large starships. Like most children born on Corellia, Jackson dreamed of journeying the starry skies. He would play in the city with his friends, get into trouble stealing fruit from the local vendors but was good kid from a wonderful family. His father, Johnathan Blake, was a local tailor who made time for everyone looking to dress fancy for an event. Elizabeth Blake, Jackson's mother, died when he was very young. Jackson's father would tell his son the tale of how his parents met, how they fell in love and how Jackson came to be. The celebrities that John would meet, when altering suits and dresses. The times he flew into the stars for the first time. Jackson admired his father and wanted to take over the family business one day, but would later find out the cold truth.You see, John was a gambler, who liked to get down and dirty with the sharks. One night, after a few games of catch with his son, a few men were standing outside the Blake's home. They asked Jackson's dad to follow them into the ally near by, John turned to Jackson and told him to go inside. He did as he was instructed and the young boy ran to the door and locked it behind him, praying that his father would be alright. The night grew dark, all was quiet. Jackson began to worry about his dad and decided to go down the ally. Leaving the house, he felt a sense of dread loom over him. With every step he took, the weather seemed to be growing colder.
There he was, Johnathan Blake, laying in a pool of his own blood. Jackson looked in horror, collapsing to his knees in shock. His last relative, his caretaker, protector, dead. Pipes sitting next to his head, as if the criminals that did this to him, wanted to be caught. Raged enveloped Jackson, tears rolling down his cheeks. Crying out into the night, he'd hoped someone would come and wake him up from this nightmare. No one came, no one cared. He was alone, scared, broken. What came next, would shock the streets of Corellia.
Jackson ran back to his home, his face emotionless. His father kept weapons, relics of the past, some that would go for a pretty credit on the market. Two Sig P226s, located in his dad's closet, under the floor board. A hazel treasure box, lined with red silk in the inside of the chest. On top sat the two pistols, loaded, that had never been shot. The streetlights were blinding, each paced twenty meters apart. The cool air was cutting his face as he was walking, he didn't feel it. After about thirty minutes of walking, he was a the door of a club named, The Blue Dozen. This was the hangout spot for the men who killed Jackson's father. This place is a den of the rotten, animals in human clothing. They take your money, and if you don't have any, they kill you. Sometimes, you could get an extra week, if you were one of the lucky few.
He walked in, the smell of alcohol and cigars filling his nostrils. It was repugnant, but he didn't give the questioning faces that impression. His face looked as if it was carved from stone, as if he was a regular customer. The faces that were outside his home during the day were all sitting in a booth by the jukebox, a tiny window above them sucking up their smoke. The men looked at the strange kid that walked up to their private booth. They began to laugh, tears rolling off their eyes. Saying, "Oh kid let me guess, you find out that your daddy's dead?" One of them patting him on the head, "Don't worry! I heard those orphanages are really fun." The laughter increased, but Jackson stood there, silent.
Jackson pulled the P226s out of his pockets, pointing them at the five beasts referred to as men. Each shot precise, hitting each one right between the eyes. The boy never gave them a chance to react, their smirking grins glued to their face. Each shell dropping to the floor, smoking. Everyone else who was sitting in the bar, anticipating this little boy to cry and throw hate speech, stood in awe. The sound of blood dripping to the floor was the only noise in the joint. Jackson's countenance was stale. A gentleman in the back began to clap, the boy's head turned in the direction of the clapping. The man stood and presented himself, he was a Twi'lek. "You are one hell of shot kid. The name's Bartalbee."
The dawn came. Jackson began to climb aboard a renovated imperial shuttle. Bartalbee asked him to join his crew and help do some odd jobs. A deal was made, Jackson did these jobs till he was twenty-years-old, after that he would need to move on. He was only ten years old at the time, and would have to work for ten whole years. His primary objective was assassinations. Bartalbee saw the expressionless look on the kid's face, and knew that he was a killer. He gave Jackson the nickname, Grimlock. A play on words, given after he noticed that when Jackson was focused, he had a grimace expression and it was locked in till the job was done.
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Ten years later.
After he made the deal with Bartalbee, Jackson believed he would never return to Corellia. That is exactly were the ship captain dropped him off. Bartalbee felt Corellia was the best place for a future captain to prepare himself. Where a man could acquire a ship, a crew and even get some starting work. When they parted ways, Jackson looked back to his old captain, tears shedding from his duct. "Don't be sad lad. We'll see each other again, and when we do, the galaxy will be on fire." The young man looked to Bartalbee and smiled. He was leaving his second family. After his dad died, he thought he was going to die in that bar. Instead, he found a group of people who took him in because of his skill, and grew to love him because of who he was. Who his father made him. He wouldn't see his captain for a while. Gref the cook, Mona the huntress, Bow the Wookie, or Nola the Mandalorian. Now that his time with them had ended, it was time for him to make a name for himself. His plans were about to unfold. After a few months of searching the streets for members of his future crew, Jackson felt like he found the perfect people. First came the twins, two Twi'leks, a packaged deal. The older sister, Ekedkuzi, a specialist with a sniper. Her little brother, Ilijocor, was a doctor, who specialized in experimental drugs. The next member came in the form of cyborg named Watts. Watts was an expert in navigation and job hunting. If there was work, Watts knew about it three days ago. Uyx, a Cathar who was the muscle and demolitions vet. The final member of the crew was Taza, the Mirialan. She was a scout, the best one in the game. Taza always went in first, never got spotted, and found every backdoor the place had. After about two years together, they became a family. Every single one had taken a bullet for another, and always came out alive. With them Jackson was able to defeat Galvus and dawned is signature mask.
WIP
Ship:
The ship that Grimlock acquired from a local gang on Corellia was a modified version of the HT-2200 medium freighter.
The starship has warp-drive technology, Novaldex GA21 Shielding, Ion Cannons and Grimlock's helmet spray-painted on the tail of the ship.
