Ex-Solider | Ex-Spy | Doctor
Locke Moradan
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"The galaxy looks different to someone bereft of time. I would be lying if I said I would put another before myself, but at the surgery table it's hard to distinguish the patient's agony from my own"
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Name - Locke Moradan
Sex - Male
Species - Human
Height - 185 cm (6'1)
Weight - 80 kg (176 lb)
Eye colour - Dark Brown
Hair colour - Black
Skin colour - Pale
Age - 27
Voice - Slightly deep, with a foreign lilt
Blood type - A, Rh(D) negative
Faction - None
Force Sensitive - Yes
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Strengths
Medical skills - Locke spent many years pursuing a cure for his affliction and is no stranger to medicine and routine surgery. An initial pursuit of survival turned to a love of medicine and a desire to help the weak.
Empathy - Years of agony have made Locke no stranger to pain. He can easily tell when another is in pain and can understand their suffering and lend a helping hand.
Pain tolerance - One of the few perks of his disease is that more pain means little when you suffer daily. Locke can ignore pain for a time and continue with his task however the greater the severity of the wound, the harder it is to ignore.
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Neutral Traits
Nothing is for free - An odd duality in personalities, Locke is often torn between helping himself and helping others. A reluctant compromise is to help another if it does not weaken himself. This often involves asking for repayment after treating a person, either as money or favours.
The Force cannot be trusted - As a young boy, Locke had a traumatic experience with a force-user. The confrontation left him diseased and with a deep-seated distrust of all who wield the force.
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Weaknesses
Afflicted - Locke suffers from a rare disease, unable to be diagnosed even to his trained mind. It appears as black veins crossing his arms, legs and torso. An idiopathic haemolytic anaemia, a small percentage of Locke's red blood cells burst spontaneously after being produced. He suffers from fits of: fatigue, breathlessness and weakness. Jaundice and fevers may present themselves in extreme cases, along with the risk of death. He requires daily transfusions of blood.
Corpses have looked better - Locke's affliction leaves him very pale, with spider-webbing patterns of jet-black veins spreading over his body. The site of this usually scares people off, who think he is the carrier of an infectious plague. Combined with little social skills, most people avoid him.
Reluctant fighter - Healing, not fighting, is Locke's forte. While capable of wielding a blaster, Locke is hopeless at hitting anything with it. Melee weapons fair little better, used to using a scalpel means that Locke is uncomfortable with using anything bigger than a knife.
Emotional expression of a rock - Associates of Locke have claimed that even were he to fall down a ravine, he would still wear the same stony expression all the way down. People often have difficulty deciding if Locke is happy, sad, frightened or even paying attention. This makes it difficult to communicate with him and his seemingly indifferent manner often annoying and frustrates people.
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Equipment
First aid kit - A small kit of medical supplies used for basic first aid.
Blood-syringes - Syringes filled with A negative blood for any emergency transfusions.
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Kills
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Bounties collected
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Roleplays
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Biography
Summary
Locke suffers from a disease which affects the blood. This was caused through a confrontation with a force-user, giving him a deep-seated distrust of all force users. He wanders the galaxy gathering money to fund his research into his disease. This money is mostly gathered through black-market surgeries and other non-legal medical ventures. Realising he has little time left alive, he has begun taking greater risks to gather money.
Full Story
Locke was born on Corellia, to Kora and Gan Moradan. Gan was a worker in the starship yards, working long days on the corvettes and gunships. Despite living on a wealthy core-world, the Moradan family was very poor. This was mainly due to the debts Gan had accumulated betting on races. Kora worked overtime as a cleaner at the local cantina.
Despite the hardships, Locke spent his first couple of years as a happy child. Gan was forever being chased by debtors, but always found time to spend with his child. Kora dropped off Locke off at a friends house and then cooked him food from the cantina in the evening. For 8 years Locke was happy.
***
When Locke turned 9, Kora deemed him old enough to work a few shifts at the cantina. Walking home through an alley he passed a beggar lying sprawled against the wall. His long robe was so dirty and stained it was impossible to tell what colour it once was. His beard was long and stained, his hair resembled a bird's next. His eyes however where alive and bright. The blue eyes darted back and forth in a calculating fashion. It seemed obvious to Locke that he was once a great man and had fallen far. Locke gave the man some money and walked off. The man said nothing, but Locke swore there was a glint in his eye.
Locke continued this pattern at the end of each week, the man continued to say nothing. After a month, Locke was startled to hear the man say: "What is your name boy?"
"I'm Locke" Locke replied.
"Locke, hmm, good name." He looked as though he was tasting the word, deciding on its worth. "Come sit here with me Locke".
Feeling nervous, Locke reluctantly sat next to him. The man eyed him up and down. "You've been wondering how write like your father, haven't you Locke?" The boy gaped.
"You think if you could learn you could write him a letter and he'll pull himself out of whatever has made him so worried"
Locke began to shake in a mix of horror and wonder. "Don't be surprised" the old man said. "I know a many good things, it comes with old age".
He stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I could teach you how to write Locke, and a great many things also. I'll do it as a way of repaying all thoses donations you've given me. What do you say?"
.
Locke bit his lip thoughtfully. "I should ask my Ma and Pa"
"Why? You tell them and you'll ruin the suprise. Learn a bit then you can introduce me"
Locke chewed his lip so much thinking he risked making it bleed. After a long silence, he says:
"Okay, it's a deal".
Locke learned a great many things from his tutor, who introduced himself as Bertham. Writing was the first, followed by math and basic sums. Bertham convinced Locke to keep quiet about this to his parents, convincing him that it would make for a better surprise the longer he waited. This continued for 3 years.
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At the age of 11, Locke had started to mature despite his age. He had grown more withdrawn and quiet. His appearance matched this, his hair growing darker and his skin paler. Gan was getting deeper and deeper into debt and would disappear for whole nights only to turn up sweaty and disheveled the next morning. Kora was force to take longer hours at the cantina, leaving Locke for long stretches of time alone. He spent most of this time studying Bertham who, to his credit, had cleaned himself up and had gotten decent clothing.
On his 12th birthday Locke went to visit Bertham, keen to learn. Bertham had other plans.
"You are almost old enough to learn a great truth Locke, you've come very far". He leaned down to stare into the boy's eyes and pulled out a white crystal from his grey robe.
"This is your birthday present, it is only to be used in emergencies. It is dangerous, but when you have learned that great truth you will understand it".
"What is this supposed great truth then? and how does this crystal work?" asked Locke.
Bertham laughed a deep chuckle. "It is not something that can be taught Locke, only learned. As for the crystal, it taps into a hidden potential of yours, something I have yet to discuss with you".
He stretched and yawned. "This will be our final lesson for a while Locke. Return when you have learned what I have asked of you".
He strode away leaving a frowning Locke alone in the alley.
***
Locke returned home, unlocking the door quietly so not to disturb his parents who were probably sleeping. He heard loud voices from the kitchen however and crept down the corridor to listen more closely.
"It's been four months Gan! Four whole months! The boss is sick of waiting!"
"I can get the money I promise! Just give me a couple of days"
"We're done waiting around Gan, either you cough up the money now or we're taking you back in pieces!"
"Please I just ~ ooof"
There was a thumping sound of something hitting the floor. Locke peeked around the corner to see four men savagely kicking his father. He pulled back in fear. He started whimpering but stopped himself.
This is no time for fear he thought to himself. I must save my father. But nothing came to mind, until he remembered Bertham's crystal still in his pocket. He stared at it, gleaming in the half light, and clenched it tightly. Bertham had said a great truth would unlock it's power. He thought about all his time with Bertham. The old man seemed to always focus on how Locke had given him charity for all those weeks, like there was a hidden lesson to be learned. Then he realised:
"Through the aid of others, I make myself strong!"
He said it with passion and felt a strange pull from the crystal. Grinning with confidence, he rounded the corner to the kitchen and used a previously unknown instinct to draw and the crystal's power. His grin grew wider. Now I can save my father, he thought.
The was a sudden shock that ran through his entire body, like he had jumped into a pool of freezing water. A cold burning feeling grew up his arms and his stomach dropped. He started convulsing and with each spasm the pain grew and grew. He heard screaming in the distance and dimly realised that it was his own. The burning feeling was everywhere now and his screaming reached a fevered pitch. He threw his hands in the air and flame poured out of each fingertip. It licked greedily at the wall and quickly spread until the whole room was on fire. the burning inside him seemed to coalesce in his chest and then rose into his mouth. The breathed a massive gout of flame which burned away all the intruders and his father. Locke screamed for a final time and then blacked out.
He awoke in a pile of ash that was the remains of the house. He tried to scream out, to call for help, but his mouth was as coarse as sandpaper. A figure approached from the smoke, as grey as the ash and as cruel as fire. Bertham crouched down and whispered into Locke's ear:
"A person who lies to themselves pretends that the fire burns them not."
He kicked Locke, who groaned and rolled over.
"Such a pathetic lie you told yourself when you used the crystal" he strode around what used to be the fireplace.
"What you should have learned was this" he again leaned down to whisper in Locke's ear.
"Nothing comes without a price, and those who refuse to pay will pay in blood".
He picked up Locke's right hand and looked closely.
"For your father this was obvious, the debtors want his life because he had no money. For you it seems it is more literal".
He dropped his hand and examined Locke's exposed foot.
"The crystal drew on the dormant power in your blood, and used your blood to kill those men. I believe it has left quite the mark"
Bertham strode away, whistling a idle tune. Locke managed to croak out a single word:
"Why?"
The old man paused and turned around, a sadistic grin on his face.
"Your money boy has paved the way for my passage off this planet. But nothing is for free so I knew I had to pay you back. What else would be a worthy price than to teach the young savior my greatest lesson?"
He laughed a high cackling laugh. He strode off into the smoke and disappeared.
***
Fifteen years later, Locke was drinking in a shady bar on Nar Shaddaa. His mother passed away 12 years ago and he had been wandering the galaxy ever since. Long black veins spread out all across his body, a stark reminder of what he had lost. 9 years of medical experience under his belt and was nowhere near to finding a cure. He let out a deep sigh and looked over again at the contract he accepted. A Twi'lek in the re-light sector desperately needed reconstructive surgery to avoid debtors. Locke shrugged, a job's a job. He downed the last of his drink and winced thinked about what he had to do next. There was no time to go home, so he drew a long syringe full of blood. he stabbed it into his leg and shuddered as the liquid entered his body. Shaking some stiffness from his neck, he stood up and strode out of the cantina, into the fresh night air.