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Character Runt

The Runt

Meat for the Machine



  • Name: "Runt"​
    Species: Human​
    Age: 18​
    Gender: M​
    Force Sensitive: Yes​
    Homeworld: Unknown, somewhere in the Deep Core​
    Faction: Brotherhood of the Maw (Scar Hounds)​
    [bold]Rank[/bold]: Marauder Aspirant

  • Born into slavery, Runt was worked to the bone by his masters for as long as he could remember, masters owned by some criminal syndicate or another, buying and selling flesh by the tonnage for governments and corporations hidden in the Deep Core and Unknown Regions. One face among the masses of slave-gangs utilised by his masters, Kale lived his life as part of his slave gang, never standing out and making sure to avoid attention from his masters or the broken men that led the slaves. As part of his 'unit', he was shunted from mines to fields, from airless rocks to suffocating jungle worlds at a moments' notice according to the whims of his masters or the needs of the Empire's economy. As long as he has known, he has only know his slave name: an official name probably exists on invoices but he has never known it.​
    Runt would have lived an entirely torturous and short life, paralleling countless of his fellow unfortunates across the Galaxy had it not been for an unexpected intervention: the Scar Hounds. When Runt was around 10, even he noticed the rippling effects of the Sith Empire's collapse, with his slave-gang quickly picked up from a forsaken hellhole run by Sith and dumped on another planet, no more Sith presence in the changing ownership of the slave-gang since. While the Sith were burtal, they had generally run a tight ship: minor governments and shady corporations were much less efficient, and overseers had to be more brutal, the quotas each month higher, and transportation to new assignments rarer, until one day in 874 on an unmarked mining planetoid named 67-Baras in the Deep Core when the Maw showed up, intending to raid the place and secure more warm bodies for their war effort. As he watched the Scar Hounds butcher his overseers defending the camp, Runt felt something in his heart for the first time in his life: a mix of hope and hatred burst forth from within, and he landed a fatal blow on the nearest Sith, a blow that caused a slave revolt almost immediately. With rocks, chains and fists the slaves rose up and slaughtered their Imperial Sith masters from within their encampment, and when the Scar Hounds fought their way into the camp, there lay piles of corpses from slave and master alike.​
    The Scar Hounds began to dictate terms to the few surviving slaves almost immediately, singling out useful chattel for their growing army from the chaff. Still filled with bloodlust, many of the slaves resisted returning into what they knew was a new captivity while others fell to their knees to pledge allegiance, hoping to gain favour with their new masters. Runt, however, found another way. While the situation became more uncontrollable over the next few hours, Runt found the biggest warrior among the Hounds and proposed a deal: the Hounds would agree to let the slaves join willingly as free men and women, and Runt would convince the slaves to do so. In order to do this, he proposed the Hounds leave the slaves alone for a few hours to discuss the issue. Not wishing to waste valuable manpower on yet another battle, the leader of the Hounds on 67-Baras begrudgingly agreed.​
    Among the slaves, no consensus was reached despite hours of discussion. Runt's limited (though symbolically important) part in the revolt was not enough to give him enough clout to convince them, and the slaves were split into two opposing groups, one that wished to join and another that decided to take a chance at freedom by ambushing the depleted Scar Hounds' warband. Seeing no other alternative, Runt convinced the others who wished to join the Hounds to kill the loudest amongst the opposition in an ambush in the camp. By the appointed time, Runt returned with a fresh harvest of heads and the remaining slaves joined the Hounds.​
    Becoming a footsoldier for the Hounds, the ex-slaves were soon dispersed to reinforce other warbands as the Maw's campaigns grew and the demand for fresh bodies grew accordingly. Despite his new 'freedom' Runt found himself under the boot of military discipline (or what passed for it in the Hounds) and returned again to being the bottom of the totem pole due to his weaker disposition. However, as the Hounds are wont to do, Runt was 'upgraded' with rudimentary cybernetics and was even given some instruction in his burgeoning Force powers. When the Second Great Hyperspace War came into full swing, Runt was thrown into the meatgrinder with a basic blaster and a vibroblade, and he is determined to make a name for himself.​

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    Height: 1.77m / 5'9"​
    Weight: 65 kg​
    Runt's features are haggard and emaciated, even after his liberation. Life is tough even as a 'free' aspirant of the Maw, and while he has put on muscle on his once bony frame, he is still unmistakably a child of deprivation. Metal surfaces poke out from parts of his limbs and parts of his face, evidence of the Scar Hound enhancements that he has been subjected to. He has a noticeable slouch from years of back-breaking labour.​

  • Strengths and Weaknesses

    It's the Little Things: Runt is generally observant, and in battle, he has had much experience leveraging small advantages in a fight from a lifetime in the slave-pits. Environmental hazards, trickery, ambush, low blows; if it's there, Runt will make use of it.​
    Just a guy: Runt is rarely seen as a threat by his much more murderous comrades or equally formidable foes and is thus rarely considered a threat.​
    Anything To Survive: Runt will do any and everything to keep his head.​
    Force Sensitivity: While Runt has gained rudimentary instruction in the use of the Force, he is at best an amateur.​
    Frail: Even with his enhancements, Runt is definitely the runt of the litter by any standards. He cannot march as long, fight as hard, or take a blow as well as most of his compatriots or his foes.​
    Looking Out for Number One: In combat, if the tide turns, he has no qualms in cutting his losses and running, and in general will never put more effort into a task than is necessary, for he is one of the few non-brainwashed in the Hounds and thus holds no real zeal for the cause per se.​

    • Scavenged warblade
    • Scrap metal armour
    • Refurbished slugthrower

  • WIP

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