H O O D O O
- Age: Early Thirties
- Species: Near-Human (Korun, Umbaran)
- Gender: Male
- Height: 6'0"
- Weight: 160 lbs
- Theme: Altamaha-Ha
- Force Sensitive: Yes
Thadeus Miratm stands at six feet even, lean and athletic at 160 pounds, his body shaped by years of combat and ritual. His dark Korun skin is marked by a network of scars and tattoos, many believed to serve magickal purposes rather than decoration.
His long dreadlocks—mostly black with light brown tips—carry small bones woven into a few strands, matching the bone charms strung along his belt. His eyes are a clear, piercing brown—focused and uncorrupted, despite his deep ties to the Dark Side.
A light beard frames his face, maintained just enough to avoid neglect. He wears dark robes that borrow elements from both Sith and Jedi tradition, designed for function and mobility in battle. Gold necklaces and amulets hang from his neck, quiet symbols of power and belief. At his hip rests a purple-bladed lightsaber, a constant presence and a clear warning.
His long dreadlocks—mostly black with light brown tips—carry small bones woven into a few strands, matching the bone charms strung along his belt. His eyes are a clear, piercing brown—focused and uncorrupted, despite his deep ties to the Dark Side.
A light beard frames his face, maintained just enough to avoid neglect. He wears dark robes that borrow elements from both Sith and Jedi tradition, designed for function and mobility in battle. Gold necklaces and amulets hang from his neck, quiet symbols of power and belief. At his hip rests a purple-bladed lightsaber, a constant presence and a clear warning.
INVENTORY
- Pending
Thadeus Miratm is a peculiar soul wrapped in charm and shadow, carrying himself with the air of a well-mannered gentleman and the glint of mischief just behind the eyes. Charismatic when he chooses to be, he often speaks in riddles and half-truths, his words dripping with that same slick confidence shared by trickster spirits and folk legends. It’s not unusual to catch him mid-conversation with what appears to be no one, and when questioned, he’ll casually mention he’s “checking in with the ancestors” or “listening to the retirees.”
A devout practitioner of Kovadu, he believes the Force flows through blood, bone, and memory, and honors the dead no matter where they stood in life—be they Jedi, Sith, or something in between. To Thadeus, the spirits are always listening, and his power comes from listening back. He delights in making deals, particularly with the desperate or forgotten, and offers a path to power in exchange for strange, symbolic payments—never coin, but something far more personal.
Though slow to anger and quick to laugh, he has no patience for liars or oathbreakers, and holds a quiet, abiding softness for those without family. To him, legacy is everything—and he carries his with pride, reverence, and the occasional bone in his hair.
A devout practitioner of Kovadu, he believes the Force flows through blood, bone, and memory, and honors the dead no matter where they stood in life—be they Jedi, Sith, or something in between. To Thadeus, the spirits are always listening, and his power comes from listening back. He delights in making deals, particularly with the desperate or forgotten, and offers a path to power in exchange for strange, symbolic payments—never coin, but something far more personal.
Though slow to anger and quick to laugh, he has no patience for liars or oathbreakers, and holds a quiet, abiding softness for those without family. To him, legacy is everything—and he carries his with pride, reverence, and the occasional bone in his hair.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES
- + Ritual Conduits: Thadeus is capable of anchoring complex Force rituals to objects, places, or people through bones, talismans, and spoken rites. These conduits can act as wards, traps, sources of healing, or even delayed curses. Unlike standard Sith Sorcery, his ritual casting isn't confined to the moment—he can prepare a battlefield days in advance and walk into it with power already waiting for him.
. - + Spirit Pact Manipulation: Through Kovadu, Thadeus can temporarily call upon ancestral spirits for specific tasks—shielding him from harm, enhancing his senses, or whispering hidden truths. These spirits function as minor buffs, spiritual countermeasures, or even subtle informants. This grants him a strategic edge against both Jedi precognition and Sith brute force, as his insight comes from beyond the living realm.
. - - Delayed Power Activation: While Thadeus’ power is deep and potent, much of it depends on preparation, ritual, or invocation. In fast-paced, chaotic combat—especially against physically aggressive Force users—his effectiveness drops if he hasn’t laid groundwork or doesn’t have time to channel the proper rites. His magic builds, rather than bursts.
. - - Anchored Force Sensitivity: Because Thadeus draws so much of his strength from ancestral communion rather than internal raw Force manipulation, his connection can be disrupted in environments that suppress or sever ties to the past—places steeped in nihilism, deep space voids, or sterile tech-based zones (like certain Imperial labs or Yuuzhan Vong biofields). When cut off from ancestral echoes, his abilities weaken considerably.
Thadeus Miratm was born under a heavy roof and heavier hands. His ma was all love—warm food, soft hums, and a back strong enough to carry three young ones and still hug each one like they were the only star in her sky. But his pa? His pa was all drink, brimstone, and thunder. The kind of man who’d preach with one hand and punish with the other. So Thadeus, being the oldest, did what any wall does—he stood tall and took the storm. Bruises came and went, but he stood firm, shielding his siblings from the worst of that house's gospel.
But even the strongest walls crack.
He was just a boy when he packed up and left, no more than a teenager with a bag full of hope and a heart scarred by duty. Said he was gonna make something of hisself. Maybe send credits home, maybe not. The road didn’t care. The stars didn’t ask questions. And space? Space is cold, empty, and don’t hold you when you cry. But Thadeus wasn’t alone for long.
He found wings to shelter under. A hard-talking smuggler here, an old medic there—folk who’d seen things and survived ‘em. Folk who knew the galaxy didn’t owe you a thing, but you could still carve out a name if you had sense and spirit. One such soul taught him to listen—not with ears, but with bone, breath, and memory. To lay his hand on dirt or metal and hear what came before. To walk the path of Kovadu, the old way. Ancestor work. Spirit walking. Truth-telling through the Force.
Once Kovadu started ordering his steps, Thadeus saw everything the galaxy had to offer. Blood. War. Lovers. Loss. He was a shadow on a hundred battlefields, a whisper in backroom dealings, a comfort to the broken, a terror to the wicked. He laughed when he could, cried when he had to, and gave folk just enough rope to climb—or hang. He lived, in full.
And then one day, while he was tending to his own corner of peace, the spirits started wailin'. Not just whispering, not just nudging—they wept. Loud. Mournful. Hurtin'. Something was happening to the home beyond homes—what most folk call the Netherworld. Something dark was tearing through it, ripping roots out the soil, and the echoes of it were spilling into the waking world. The ancestors who once cradled him in prayer and power were cryin’ out.
And Thadeus? He couldn't sit still. Couldn't turn his back. They were there for him when he was just a scared little boy with his back against the wall. It was only right he come runnin’ when they were the ones screaming.
Now he walks again—bones in his hair, voices in his ear, and a saber that hums with judgment. He’s hunting for the truth: who’s tearing up the afterlife, what they want, and how deep the rot goes. And once he finds ‘em?
But even the strongest walls crack.
He was just a boy when he packed up and left, no more than a teenager with a bag full of hope and a heart scarred by duty. Said he was gonna make something of hisself. Maybe send credits home, maybe not. The road didn’t care. The stars didn’t ask questions. And space? Space is cold, empty, and don’t hold you when you cry. But Thadeus wasn’t alone for long.
He found wings to shelter under. A hard-talking smuggler here, an old medic there—folk who’d seen things and survived ‘em. Folk who knew the galaxy didn’t owe you a thing, but you could still carve out a name if you had sense and spirit. One such soul taught him to listen—not with ears, but with bone, breath, and memory. To lay his hand on dirt or metal and hear what came before. To walk the path of Kovadu, the old way. Ancestor work. Spirit walking. Truth-telling through the Force.
Once Kovadu started ordering his steps, Thadeus saw everything the galaxy had to offer. Blood. War. Lovers. Loss. He was a shadow on a hundred battlefields, a whisper in backroom dealings, a comfort to the broken, a terror to the wicked. He laughed when he could, cried when he had to, and gave folk just enough rope to climb—or hang. He lived, in full.
And then one day, while he was tending to his own corner of peace, the spirits started wailin'. Not just whispering, not just nudging—they wept. Loud. Mournful. Hurtin'. Something was happening to the home beyond homes—what most folk call the Netherworld. Something dark was tearing through it, ripping roots out the soil, and the echoes of it were spilling into the waking world. The ancestors who once cradled him in prayer and power were cryin’ out.
And Thadeus? He couldn't sit still. Couldn't turn his back. They were there for him when he was just a scared little boy with his back against the wall. It was only right he come runnin’ when they were the ones screaming.
Now he walks again—bones in his hair, voices in his ear, and a saber that hums with judgment. He’s hunting for the truth: who’s tearing up the afterlife, what they want, and how deep the rot goes. And once he finds ‘em?
There’ll be fire and brimstone waiting for ‘em.
And this time, it won’t be his pa swingin’ it.
And this time, it won’t be his pa swingin’ it.