A P E X
Samuel Graves, Mercenary
Basic Information
- Name: Samuel Graves
- Force Rank: Apprentice
- Force Alignment: Neutral
- Species: Human
- Age: 32
- Race: Corellian
- Place of Birth: Corellia
- Height: 6'1
- Weight: 215 lbs
- Eye Color: Brown
- Hair Color: Black
- Skin Pigmentation: Tan
- Force Sensitivite: Yes
- The Omega Protectorate (Loosely)
- Stargo Defense Enterprises
- + Desensitized: Some people flinch at the sight of blood. Others contemplate morality when it comes to taking a life. Not Graves. If he is being paid, the job will get done; no matter how many lives get snuffed out in the process.
. - + Tactical Knowledge: Having spent a decade in the police business, Graves has developed quite a knack for the tactical side of things. Whether it's small team encounters, urban warfare, or charging in with bayonets affixed, he knows how to play the game smart.
. - - Addiction: When he isn't putting slugs into the skull of a target, Graves can be typically found with a fresh bottle of wodka in his hand. Although it has yet to bleed terribly into his work life, his liver is beginning to loathe him for the constant alcoholism.
. - - Post-Traumatic Stress: Graves has seen some serious poodoo. It keeps him up at night quite frequently. Sometimes, wodka is the only way to cope.
- Working On It.
General Skills
- Blaster/Firearm Combat
- Hand-to-Hand Combat
- Fleeting
- Slicing
- Pending
- Working On It.
The name is Graves.
Not Samuel. Not Sammy. Graves. That's how you'll refer to me for this interview. If you were signing my paycheck, you could call me Sally for all I care.
But you're not.
So, let's get started.
I grew up on Corellia. Nothing special about how I was brought up. My folks worked, I went to school, basic poodoo. Well, when I was about sixteen, I decided to be an nerf herder. No surprise, right? Teenagers are assholes after all. I ran with this little gang of idiots and we decided to break into places, steal poodoo, etc. Well, we got busted and I was hauled off by the police. They gave me a choice: remove my head from my ass or get tossed into a cage.
I may have been an nerf herder, but I was smart enough not to push my luck. Sure as Hell didn't want to become someone's prison girl, y'know?
Anyways, decided to straighten up. Fly right, blah blah blah. Eventually joined the police as soon as I graduated from school. Won't lie, I did some good work with the Force. We put some nasty motherkarkers away. Sure, they weren't as bad as those One Sith karkers, but I'll take a city free of pedophiles anyday. Well, despite all the good I did, everything went to poodoo one night.
I lost my partner. Damn near lost my life. Lost my place on the Force. All because I got cocky. You never kick down a drug lord's door. Ever.
When it was done, I couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. I just couldn't get the image out of my head y'know? The sight of my partner, sitting there in a pool of his own...yeah, still karks me up to this day. So I started drinking. What else is a washed up cop supposed to do, right? It wasn't the best place to be, but wodka cures all ails.
Well, eventually, I got off my sorry ass and got a job. Mercenary gig. Every now and again I'll throw the home team a bone, but for the most part, I'm looking for a paycheck. Speaking of, I've got crap to do.
This interview is over.