"Do as thou wilt."
RANK: Mechanic
SPECIES: Humanoid
BIRTHWORLD: Corellia
RESIDENCE: Mon Gazza
AGE: 41
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 195cm
WEIGHT: 125kg
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Brown
SKIN: Fair
FORCE SENSITIVE: No
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
Fairly intelligent
Talented mechanic
Outcast Rogue
Gruff personality
APPEARANCE:
Heavyset four armed human looking male carrying a few more kilograms than during his fighting days, Lion usually wears coveralls, none too clean, with half a dozen tools hanging from his work belt. His battle armour is green painted beskar'gam.
EQUIPMENT:
Ripper, Shattergun, Beskad, Disruptor, Hydrospanner, Crowbar
BIOGRAPHY:
Orphaned as a child
Rescued by Mandalorians
Forged in battle
Became part of a band of outcast Mando'ade
Turned to raiding and piracy
(From 'The Tale of the Lion')
My story is not that interesting, at least not compared to the tales I've heard of my parents. Father was Corellian, richer than he was attractive, but mother more than made up for it. She was from Munto Codru, and she was a great beauty, a holodrama actress, and the only thing in this galaxy my father ever truly loved. With four hands, i figure he made the most of things.
They lived happy together, protected from the ills of the galaxy by wealth and power for a time, enjoying one another's company and all the luxuries that they could ever wish for. In time, they wished for children, and they were given only one child, a sickly boy. Me.
I never discovered whether they gave me up or I was taken from them, but I never knew my parents in life. What I know, i've heard in spacers' tales or learned in watching holorecords. They died before I had a chance to meet them, and i'll probably never know the truth now. Like trillions of others, they died in a war so long ago that records are nearly impossible to find.
In my life, there was never time for children, or building great wealth, and I damn sure don't have the looks for holodrama. When I was young I did my share of fighting. Easy career for an orphan boy to get into, harder to get out of. I survived enough battles to earn my way out, and swore blind that my fighting days were done.
I returned to peaceful life in a village on a backwater world on the rim. Every village needs workers, and I earned my keep, building and fixing. The life suited me better than war, and for a time, I was happy enough. One day, raiders came down on the village, and our village wasn't strong enough to stop them. They killed most everyone and took what they wanted. Left with no choice, I broke my oath and went back to war.
My war was a long and horrible one, even as wars go, and surviving cost many nights' sleep, as I remember the many faces of those who didn't make it through. Some wars are just death, and some wars make death into an escape. Fortunately for me, I escaped alive and with most of my parts and pieces intact.
The long war ended, and peace beckoned to me. This time I took some soldier comrades with me, and we built a village of our own, which soon grew with workers and families who sought safety, solace, and survival among us. When raiders came, they found old soldiers make bad targets, and our village stood strong.
Now, instead of breaking things, I make things, I fix things, and over the years, I've gotten pretty good at it. Enough to get by, at any rate. There are always credits to be made in getting others what they want. I live a reasonably quiet life in my village, and I like it just fine.