| General Information |
Name: Kallus Vek
Faction: Freelance/Mercenary
Rank: Private Contractor/Dark Jedi
Species: Human/Arkanian Hybrid
Age: 34
Sex: Male
Height: 1.84 M
Weight: 68 KG
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Brunette
Skin: Fair
Force Sensitive: Yes; however, Kallus personally chooses to reject the notion of aligning himself with any and all other practitioners of the Force.
He who is lonesome - free of moral fixation.
|
He who hunts - seeker of one's own ilk, ripper of life.
|
He who steels his mind - dissipation of the spirit, unflinching to strife and fury.
|
He who rejects the Force, challenger of fate.
|
Free of shackles and masters, I will set myself free.
His eyes were closed. Kallus exhaled softly, he could feel the gentle tapping of light rainfall upon his skin. Distant echoes of familiar voices pervaded his senses with memories from another life, electrifying his nerves, sending a mild discomfort throughout his body and along his spine. A brisk wind brought him fully to the reality he perceived, yet a combined swirling of irrationality and anxiety molested his innards and gut.
"We can run away... I can come with you."
Tears flooded his eyes. Nausea struck with an intensity anchored inside of guilt, something so pathetically and desperately repressed. His head buried in his hands, near frigid winds whipping his scalp and nipping his earlobes. All he wanted was to forget - to forget his failure.
"It's time to go."
Eyes up.
The air was thick with a yellow haze - the ashes of once living beings, the dust of duracrete. It filled Kallus' lungs as he compartmentalized the past, moving forward through the unknown as blaster-fire resounded from all around. There were no visible structures to offer respite, no noticeable cover to crawl behind or under. The Black Rat had nowhere to flee - no rotten corner to scurry to. Footfalls grew louder and nearer, the repetition of blaster bolts piercing the air.
There was blood - his own blood. It flowed like a stream from his arm where a jagged piece of durasteel lodged itself beneath the flesh. In that very moment, he could recall the beauty of where he used to roam as a child. A memory so precious yet distorted through time, something he'll never fully regain. The tired barking of desperate, irritated alien tongues shouted over one another, quickly dissipating into an eerie silence where Kallus found an opportunity to drag himself further on, or at least somewhere he could tend to his wounds in peace.
"Kallus..."
The voices, however, they never stopped. They're all that he could have in this life, his only shred of what it was to be a simple man.
A kind man.
Not anymore.
| Strengths & Weaknesses |
Kallus isn't the type to wander and mingle among other folk. His identity is at all times obscured by a blackened helmet of no discernible maker or company. His body is also at all times covered by a completely midnight attire, hugging firmly against his toned physique. For those unfortunate enough to meet Kallus face-to-face, they would notice exhausted eyes slightly sunken into their sockets, an unkempt head of short hair, and a sickly pale face obstructed by a rather thick stubble. His movements are those with purpose, his words are few.
Name: Kallus Vek
Faction: Freelance/Mercenary
Rank: Private Contractor/Dark Jedi
Species: Human/Arkanian Hybrid
Age: 34
Sex: Male
Height: 1.84 M
Weight: 68 KG
Eyes: Hazel
Hair: Brunette
Skin: Fair
Force Sensitive: Yes; however, Kallus personally chooses to reject the notion of aligning himself with any and all other practitioners of the Force.
He who is lonesome - free of moral fixation.
|
He who hunts - seeker of one's own ilk, ripper of life.
|
He who steels his mind - dissipation of the spirit, unflinching to strife and fury.
|
He who rejects the Force, challenger of fate.
|
Free of shackles and masters, I will set myself free.
"We can run away... I can come with you."
Tears flooded his eyes. Nausea struck with an intensity anchored inside of guilt, something so pathetically and desperately repressed. His head buried in his hands, near frigid winds whipping his scalp and nipping his earlobes. All he wanted was to forget - to forget his failure.
"It's time to go."
Eyes up.
The air was thick with a yellow haze - the ashes of once living beings, the dust of duracrete. It filled Kallus' lungs as he compartmentalized the past, moving forward through the unknown as blaster-fire resounded from all around. There were no visible structures to offer respite, no noticeable cover to crawl behind or under. The Black Rat had nowhere to flee - no rotten corner to scurry to. Footfalls grew louder and nearer, the repetition of blaster bolts piercing the air.
There was blood - his own blood. It flowed like a stream from his arm where a jagged piece of durasteel lodged itself beneath the flesh. In that very moment, he could recall the beauty of where he used to roam as a child. A memory so precious yet distorted through time, something he'll never fully regain. The tired barking of desperate, irritated alien tongues shouted over one another, quickly dissipating into an eerie silence where Kallus found an opportunity to drag himself further on, or at least somewhere he could tend to his wounds in peace.
"Kallus..."
The voices, however, they never stopped. They're all that he could have in this life, his only shred of what it was to be a simple man.
A kind man.
Not anymore.
| Strengths & Weaknesses |
- + Brawler
- + Exceptionally gifted via being able to channel the Force through lightsaber attacks
- + Ex-Republic Military
- - No Allies
- - Consumed By Dark Side
- - Suicidal
Kallus isn't the type to wander and mingle among other folk. His identity is at all times obscured by a blackened helmet of no discernible maker or company. His body is also at all times covered by a completely midnight attire, hugging firmly against his toned physique. For those unfortunate enough to meet Kallus face-to-face, they would notice exhausted eyes slightly sunken into their sockets, an unkempt head of short hair, and a sickly pale face obstructed by a rather thick stubble. His movements are those with purpose, his words are few.