Bascillus
Member
NAME: Silus Aran
FACTION:
RANK: Darksider/Fringe
SPECIES: Devaronian
AGE: Early to Mid 20's
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 5'9
WEIGHT: 240 (Devaronians are naturally more heavy due to their anatomy, so he doesn't seem over-weight)
EYES: Sharp, yellow
HAIR: N/A
SKIN: Red
FORCE SENSITIVE: Force Sensitive
Force Telekinesis (Grab, push and manipulation)
Force Scream
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STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES (Required: 2 Weaknesses Minimum) :
Deficient in lightsaber training. Silus Aran has always enjoyed blood, and so using a vibroblade or any metallurgic tool is preferred to him than using a saber.
Unbalanced/Disturbed. This individual has gone through many emotional struggles through his life, and as a result of that trama as well as the nature in which his existence was fueled, (alongside his training in the darkside) he is emotionally and psychologically unstable and shows this often to those around him.
Swordplay. Silus Aran has become quite proficient at the use of one-handed blades from his time as a gladiator.
The Force. While he was a gladiator, he found himself much more useful outside the ring and in the back rooms making deals that favored his slavers. As a force-user, this mentality has transitioned to being more focused in learning how to feel and utilize the force on different levels of functionality beyond combat without any exclusion from the latter.
APPEARANCE:
He carries an old leather skin that has many pockets and conviently folds from his time as a gladiator. This strap, with a multitude of pockets, houses many metalurgic tools such as scapels and other various tools that either a doctor or someone more ominously attributed would carry.
BIOGRAPHY:
Prologue
Bodies of condensed prespiration rolled over the dull, gray skies of Devaron-- carrying in its wake the thunderous roar that crashed violently. Periodic flashes of light pursued the pandemonium of thunder, strings of lightning cascading in volatility through the atmosphere to near-surface depth. Soon the onslaught of rain broke free from the grasp of the nebula--crashing onto the surface of the planet as a blanket which was thick and laid upon both mountainous and urban regions leaving it all in visual obscurity.
Within the ghetto Montellian Serat, the capital of Devaron, a family churned into movement. The homestead stunk, littered with trash in every room. Perhaps the only clean surfaces were those more heavily tainted with the pressence of various spices--glitterstim mainly. Between hits of the mind-altering substance, the two adults hurriedly tossed their belongings into cannisters and portable containers, leaving their young Devaronian child to wander around the house without tending.
"Hurry, we have to move while it's raining!" The female shrieked with panic present within her voice. The man did not return in dialogue, simply partaking in another hit before he stumbled in disorientation as he went back into movement. It seemed as though they were running from something, and in fact they were. Devaron, being on a main trade route, found its fair share of spice coming through even if it wasn't known to the authorities. With drugs came debt--eventually.
With everything packed, and placed on porters just outside the door, the family gathered the last of the things that could be carried before the boy was beckoned and they began to leave. As they moved to the door, its automation activating with an audible slide, though their movement ceased once they realized their path to the exterior of the apartment was blocked.
"Thinkin' of skipping out on your debt, scumbags?" A voice announced itself, though the large bodies before the three devaronians did not match it. It was nasily, though carried a menacing touch to it. The thugs parted, leaving the voice's origin to be revealed as it was a short, chubby Rhodian. Not indigenous to the planet himself, the Rhodian was known for his smuggling enterprise and dealt with Devaron's drug trade on a personal level. He gave up a sinister grin as he stepped forward--his own path pushing the Devaronians back as they did not dare to show any resistance in fear of retaliation.
As he entered, so did his henchmen, two at each side with the third humanoid remaining just at the door as he hit the interior button that controlled the door and it's lock. The rhodian's beedy eyes moved around the room, noting that it was rather empty though he had seen the luggage outside already. He also saw the residue of left over spice, which he gave an immediate narrowing of the eyes in response to.
"Frakking spice-heads," The rhodian sputtered, his high-pitched voice ringing aloud as he settled his eyes on the kid. "So much debt and so little money, how will you repay me?" The question was answered before it was asked--the only other question was if the two drug addicts understood the nature of the question or simply the direction in which the conversation was headed.
"A young devaronian is pretty valuable in some places," The rhodian enticed the thought, and the father moved forward to protest though a fist to his hollowed cheeks sent him back into a table to easily tame any heroic manuevers from there forward. The Rhodian didn't say anything else, instead he simply motioned towards the boy with one hand, and than tilted his head towards the two Devaronian. "Please don't kill us! Just take the boy!" The mom pleaded, leaving the rhodian to chuckle and shake his head. Immediately they were shot, and the boy was grabbed. Of course, the boy kicked and screamed in protest, but the physical resistance proved futile and any screaming was muffled by the unforgiving rain that pelted loudly against every inch of the city.
Slavery
The boy was young when he was taken, and so the assimilation into his new life of bondage wasn't as difficult as would have been if he was older. The Devaronian, naturally heavy and stronger due to their physiology, made fine hopefuls for fighting rings. The Rhodian had connects as well on some backwater planets that hosted such rackets, boasting of their gladatorial games that entertained numerous rich degenerates of the galaxy.
Many things happened to Silus during the period of time which he was involved in the gladatorial ring, the most important of which he had found that death and killing were some things he favored thinking about. How ever, despite that, how fierce he was in the ring was over-shadowed by his inherent ability to make deals and handle situations of various business for the slavers gave him meaning beyond the ring.
As he became of age, albeit still a slave, he came across a darksider who trained him loosely in the arts of the force only to entice him into submission to the master's will. Regardless of succcess or failure, Silus named himself the apprentice of the force-user and thereafter the two formulated a plot to get away from the slaver's grasps. And so they did, though Silus' taste of blood was not quite quenched and he vowed in the wake of their departure that he would return to destroy the entire operation one prey at a time.
The Force
From the very beginning of his relationship to his master, Yuhtzga, Silus Aran understood the multitudes of facets--the layers which broughth the two together. Silus, smart and thick with intellect, knew his existence was destined for more than just records keeping, trickery and deception for the sake of the slavers. He also knew that Yugtzga, albeit his master, was not that strong or talented. In training, it did not take long for him to be able to oppose the rather green darksider who had sprung him soley for the sake of having a second saber at his side. Needless to say, Silus ceazed his first opportunity and felled his master.
From there he roamed, in search of more power and more satisfaction but both were so indomitable in thier momentum that in the two of their absenses, insanity claimed Silus and his hunger roared tremendously and he killed often, remaining anonymous as he jumped from one trade ship to the next. Eventually, he found a new master, and that's where his story begins.
SHIP:
N/A
KILLS:
N/A
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
N/A.
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ROLE-PLAYS:
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