Odelis
Character
Odelius Varn
| Age | 35 |
| Species | Human -https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Human |
| Gender | Male |
| Height | 6” 3’ (190.5 CM) |
| Weight | 245 Pounds |
| Force Sensitive | Yes |
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION
Tall, broad-shouldered, with scar tissue crawling across his face, chest, and arms.
Black-and-crimson warplate, dented and scarred, worn proudly instead of repaired.
Cybernetics replacing parts of his ribcage, spine, and right arm — exposed wiring occasionally sparking.
INVENTORY
A thick, cleaver-like crimson lightsaber scarred with unstable energy arcs.
PERSONALITY AND BELIEFS
Relentless: Once he sets his will on something, he pursues it until it is broken.
Philosophical: Surprisingly articulate for a brute, and he believes the Dark Side is not chaos, but the trial of survival.
Honors strength: Respects rivals who wound him or endure his punishment.
Merciless to weakness: Scorns those who retreat, surrender, or hesitate.
STRENGTHS
Observant: He often can read others body language with ease. Telling him how they are thinking.
Unwavering Strength: He has been trained his entire life, and has become very strong. Mentally and physically.
WEAKNESSES
Predictable: He will always push forward, and clever foes can exploit this.
Not subtle: Politics, deception, and subtlety are not his strengths.
Haunted loyalty: His obsession with survival makes him distrustful of allies, and he believes everyone will abandon him eventually.
Overconfidence: Considers pain a teacher, so he sometimes lets enemies harm him, which can backfire.
HISTORY
Odelis was not always what he is now. Once, he was a shock trooper, conditioned for obedience and deployed where the fighting was thickest. He believed in the chain of command, in the idea that someone above him saw the bigger picture. That belief died during the siege that should have killed him.
His unit was ordered to push forward despite failing lines and collapsing support. The bombardment came down harder than expected, tearing through structures and infantry alike. When the ground gave way beneath him, Odelis was buried alive under layers of stone and twisted metal. His squad was wiped out within moments. His commander never called for a retreat. No rescue teams were sent.
At first, he waited.
Time blurred in the darkness. His armor was cracked, his body pinned, his supplies gone. He rationed breaths, fought panic, and tried to signal for help through a dead comm. Hunger and thirst set in quickly. Pain followed, constant and unrelenting. Still, he waited, clinging to the belief that he had not been left behind.
That belief did not survive.
Something changed in him as the hours stretched into days. The silence became suffocating, then clarifying. There was no rescue coming. No one was searching. In that realization, something colder than fear took hold. A will to live, stripped of everything else.
He began to dig.
It took everything he had left. Broken fingers, torn muscles, and sheer stubborn refusal to die. When he finally clawed his way free, he emerged into a battlefield long since abandoned by armies but not by opportunists. Scavengers had moved in, picking through the dead for weapons, credits, and relics. Among them were Force sensitives, drawn by the aftermath and whatever power lingered there.
Odelis did not announce himself. He watched, learned, and waited until someone came too close.
His first kill was desperate and brutal, using nothing more than a jagged piece of debris. It was messy, inefficient, and it worked. The next was faster. By the third, something had clicked into place. Survival was not about fighting fair or fighting clean. It was about ending the threat before it could end you.
Some of those he encountered tried to talk. A Jedi offered help, sensing his condition and reaching out with calm words and steady intent. Odelis answered with violence before the offer could become a weakness. Later, a Sith attempted to bend him, recognizing the anger in him and trying to claim it. That ended the same way.
Over time, Odelis adapted. He scavenged better weapons, patched his armor, and learned to move without being seen until it was too late for whoever he targeted. The presence he felt in the darkness never left him. It did not guide him with promises or titles. It reinforced what he had already learned the hard way.
Survival is the only truth that matters.
When he finally left the ruins, he was no longer a soldier and no longer willing to be one. He does not follow orders, does not swear loyalty, and does not believe in causes that demand sacrifice from those they are willing to abandon. He trusts in his own strength, his instincts, and the edge he has carved out through experience.
Odelis is not driven by conquest or ideology. He takes contracts when it benefits him, eliminates threats when necessary, and walks away from anything that smells like blind allegiance. The Force lingers around him, shaped by pain and endurance rather than training or doctrine. He does not fully understand it, but he uses it in the only way he knows how: to survive.
Those who meet him often misjudge what he is. He does not carry the presence of a traditional Sith, nor the restraint of a Jedi. He is something in between, or perhaps something entirely separate.
A man who was buried, abandoned, and forced to claw his way back into the world.
And who refuses to ever be buried again.