NOTE: I know its the epitome of stubbornness, but I refuse to RP in anything related to the Mouse's episodes VII-IX, due to the fact that there's no proper worldbuilding or even basic in-universe history in any way, shape or form. EU and the occasional fanon only for me.
(WIP)
Name: Oveln'eos Xeefih
Faction: Independent
Rank: N/A
Species: Ugnaught
Age: 72
Sex: Male
Height: 4'9
Weight: 211 lbs.
Build: Stocky and muscular.
Eyes: White pupils and purple irises surrounded by gray due to Dark Side corruption.
Hair: Red, balding and streaked with white in some places due to the Dark Side's corruption.
Skin color: Fair, crisscrossed with scar tissue and tinged with gray.
Force Sensitivity: Yes, though largely self-taught and limited (for now...).
Force Powers:
Alter: Alter damage, cleanse mind, combustion, crucitorn, dampen presence, dark transfer, drain knowledge, droid disable, Force deflection, Force drain, Force jump, Force lightning, Force push/pull, Force scream/bellow, mind trick, Spear of Midnight Black, telekinesis, tutaminis (energy absorption)
Control: Breath control, control pain, Force concealment, tapas (regulate body temperature in spite of environmental extremes), technomancy, thought shield
Sense: Force sight, instinctive astrogation, psychometry, technometry, thought shield
Occupation: Former droid manufacturer, currently a moderately-successful bounty hunter and budding Dark Jedi.
Strengths:
Unintimidating Presence: Most others tend to underestimate Ugnaughts, even the stockier ones. In this particular case, this often works to Oveln's advantage...
Wealthy: It's all stolen and siphoned from non-bounty murder victims and claimed from killing legitimate bounty targets as well, with the resulting wealth spread over dozens of false accounts, but everything tends to add up over time.
Accomplished Machinist / Technomancer: Every Force Sensitive has innate gifts from the Force, and Oveln's natural interest and practiced crafting in droidworks has led to the development of terrifying abilities...
Demolitionist: The basics of wiring, programming and powering a droid can easily be transferred to the craft of making improvised and effective explosives, when combined with some basic science that most galactic citizens learn during their school years.
Accomplished Swordsman:
Ruthless Killer: Ever since murdering his wife and brother in a vicious crime of passion, Oveln has lost whatever conscience he may have had, and feels no qualms about killing to this very day.
Weaknesses:
Trail of the Dead: The violence, destruction and dozens upon dozens of murder victims, be they wanted dead men or poor fools who angered this living, stubborn, aggressive tank have led to a fearsome reputation among those who know of him, and not all reputations can be shaken, for better or for worse...
Cold-Hearted: Lost the ability to emphasize due to years of hard laboring over droids, callous fellow tribesmen, the loss of his wife's love (right before he killed her) and he has garnered little respect for life ever since that time.
Explosive Rage: Years of dealing with a drunken, dying Father, abrasive tribesmen both before and during his droid manufacturing years left this Ugnaught alienated, largely self-reliant and quick-tempered, but this anger became hair-triggered when his wife and brother alike callously mocked him when he caught them in a torrid affair, and his anger has nursed him effectively ever since, lending him great strength and potential due to his Force Sensitivity.
Appearance: The pale and oddly gray-pallored Ugnaught carries himself with a distinct and confident swagger that, in the eyes of others, either sets him at odds with Ugnaught stereotypes or else ensures that others laugh at him, and those who make the latter choice rarely live to regret it. A distinct and ever-present anger smolders in his exotic purple eyes, and the smile that tugs at the corner of one lip speaks of something other then joviality, his red sideburns frazzled and peppered with white like the balding hair on his head. This graying Ugnaught seems more muscular then most, his limbs speaking of many years of manual labor. Worn, broken and dulled metal battle armor of unknown origin shines faintly beneath a worn, tan travel cloak on his torso, while cured dark green leather composed of Vor skin (though most wouldn't be able to guess that) adorns his thick, muscular arms and legs. A subtle shift along one side of his torso reveals, upon closer inspection, the black metal of two attached, crab-like droid arms affixed to the back of his armor beneath his cloak, doubtless implements to aid him in close-quarters combat if necessary, as the golden hilt of the black-bladed, archaic metal greatsword sheathed across his thick back indicates...
Biography: Rage has the potential to overwhelm and redirect any sentient in the galaxy towards shameless evil if those affected by it lack moral integrity. Most see the warning signs and seek aid or the presence of loved ones to heal themselves.
Unfortunately, not everyone has access to that necessary helping hand and loving heart. Nightmarishly, there are also those who revel in the temporary and repetitious boons that anger can bring to a passionate heart...
Oveln'eos and his twin Ferha'vroj of the Clan of Xeefih were born into a prosperous clan composed mostly of Ugnaught blacksmiths based on Ban-Satir II on the Isle of N'Van. Oveln's mother died eight months after his birth, leaving the child and his twin brother to be raised by a harsh and domineering Father after their wet nurse left the family upon the twins' toddler years. While they were growing up, their harsh droidcrafter Father neglected the twins in favor of drink and the false hopes offered by it and the company of drunkards alone. For Oveln, his tribal upbringing wasn't much better then his early years, as, for one, his twin brother was the vastly more popular of the two and, for another, his interest in the job that his Father hated, that of droidcrafting, brought mockery and derision to him from his blacksmithing Uncle, to say nothing of his brewing, mining and agricultural peers in spite of his dedication and drive to excel in such a field. Oveln's father, as well, despised his son's inclinations and technological interests, ignoring him at best or, on a few occasions, verbally and physically assaulting him for his interests.
It wasn't long, in their adolescent years, that the hated and despised of the twins found love, much to the shock of his more successful brother, a brewmaster of Ban-Satir II's famous Novanian alcohol/grog (and nearly as much a drunkard as his Father had been). Their Father, who had died after drunkenly falling into a duracrete mixer a year before (neither twin had missed him), left his sons with enough to comfortably live off of, and so, for years, the two twins worked in two hovels in the same section of their city, Oveln marrying his wife, one Belia'helj of the Veljcahl Clan, an older woman and the widow of one Asher'jeadiku, a prosperous culinary spice farmer. Ferha slowly began to descend into drunkenness, as had his Father, even as the success of his brewery continued to build, leading to his amassing more and more wealth while Oveln remained the same, content, fascinated by droidworks, and desire little save to keep the very same roof over him and his wife for the rest of their lives.
At the age of sixty-eight and contented in his adulthood, despite growing resentment between his brewmaster brother and his own successful droid foundry, that Oveln fell into an abyss that, in a single, rage-filled instant, that unlocked the accursed furnace surrounding his heart, awakened his Force potential for the seventh time in his life and killed his capacity for morality, though such a connection was weak and rootless towards either good or evil due to the Ugnaught's contentment with his self taught droidwork. The rain was blasted against the hovel by fierce winds that night, when Oveln discovered his twin brother, Ferha'vroj, in the midst of lust with his brother's wife. With his heart shattering, pounding furiously inside his stocky chest, hewn by working with the mechanics of droids over many years, Oveln managed to barely hold back his growing rage, fueled and surging as he remembered the many years of love his wife had given him, all ravaged and destroyed in, according to his wife's words, less then an hour beforehand.
"You're going nowhere in this Galaxy, and he is... I finally realized that weeks ago, and now, he has given me more then you ever would, Foundry-Slave."
Those words tugged at his mind, clawed at his machine-scarred, peer-abused chest and the thundering, self-willed heart within... To his wife, it had all come to mean nothing - how could she fall for his twin's pretentiousness, vainglory and boozing ways - years after year, Ferha was growing more into a piteous, grotesque reflection of their Father...
Oveln's fury had grown hot, and finally boiled over and his every thought had turned to silencing them even as they laughed, their heads tilted back with sadism in their eyes. Oveln's anger burned as he grabbed his wife's throat to shake sense and reason into her as he cursed... And violet arcs of electricity emerged from his palms, blistering and scarring his hands further as it had emerged to dance over his wife's animalistically yowling, tremoring body, the strength of his other hand had grabbed his twin's throat to silence his lying, boastful proud words as he had reveled in their shared betrayal...
Oveln's mind burned with anger, igniting violet arcs across his wife's body while his hand - possessing some obscure strength that he didn't know he was capable of at the time (Dark Side enhanced) - crushed his twin's larynx easily and bathed his other hand in blood. His fury overwhelmed his rationality, scorched his palm with the Force even as lighting illuminated the room while the traitors died...
His rage boiled over further, in an immense howl that poured forth from a heart that had finally shattered. He stormed through the rainy, the wind, the thunder that echoed his broken heart, and the lightning that revealed the unnatural, purple and gray orbs that his eyes had become, his rage sustaining him for the trek to his own droid foundry. In the midst of his burning passion and fueled by a hatred that had turned out against the entirety of a Clan that had never appreciated nor respected him, against those who had bullied him at every turn, Oveln had the perfect revenge, as well as cover to enable his hellish escape from his old, dead life.
Though there were only several dozen security droids in his foundry, they would serve. The other droids armed themselves with mining, agricultural tools, repair tools - practically any item that they could use. It was a simple matter to input command and override codes into the droids after deleting his Foundry's records. The droids poured forth, firing blasters, swinging tools, axes and metalworking hammers, even hoes, as they set about in a mindless orgy of destruction and death against the unsuspecting, terrified Ugnaughts of the Xeefih Clan while their half-mad creator vanished into the night, leaving his local Clan to their fate...
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Voice Example: Harlan Ellison (how fitting - met him once, too!)
Equipment: Bracer computer, black-bladed Ugnaught-forged greatsword, E-11 blaster rifle, ammo cartridges, spare clothing, A99 aquata breather/rebreather, repulsor/grav boots
Ship:
Kills:
Bounties:
Roleplays:
Theme: "Venom" (Explicit)
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