Red Swordsman
The Red Swordsman
OOC INFORMATION
NAME: Gone (Known only as the Red Swordsman)
FACTION: Gone
RANK: Gone
SPECIES: Human
HOMEWORLD : Gone
AGE: 25
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 215cm
WEIGHT: 265lbs
EYES: Red and Blue
HAIR: Gone
SKIN: Burnt
FORCE SENSITIVE: No
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
Cunning Warrior - A lifelong fighter with a wide experience of weapons and techniques
Symbiote Biology - Able to heal fast, move fast and react fast
Outcast Exile - Cares for nothing, has nothing to care for
Symbiote Rage - Excessive or Intense use of symbiote will cause a mindless rage state
APPEARANCE:
Large man in red helmet and combat armour over a crimson bodysuit, hood and mask. He has one red and one blue eye, the red being a part of the symbiote he carries within his body. The combat armor is made up from different sets with the identifying markings and symbols scratched away. Though it appears poor, it is functionally maintained. He wears his huge sword on his back, and has several pistols holstered across his chest. At his belt hang various implements of violence and tools of trade.
EQUIPMENT:
Repulsor hand (left)
Very large sword
Very sharp axe
Lightsabers
Blaster
Shatter pistol
Carbonite Freezing Device
BIOGRAPHY:
The one known as the Red Swordsman has lost everything that ever meant anything to him. Family, friends, honour, love, pride, desire, and any hope that was left. Behind him lies a past which came to an abrupt and very final end. He is alone, the last of his sort this side of hell. He was broken in body, and then restored, only to be broken in soul, irrevocably and permanently.
Once he was the heir of a wealthy and powerful family, surrounded by loving guardians, raised akin to a prince of his people. Brought up in a populous and successful household, he had love and discipline, and the best of education and training that credits could manage. He had family and he had security. He came to manhood and became a proud and worthy successor, proving his worth in battle, and showing wit and determination.
He traveled widely, striving to make a name and reputation for himself in the shadow of his famous father and mother, working to avoid any special treatment or favours. He became adept at hiding his identity and working anonymously outside of the family to build his own place in the galaxy.
During a nameless skirmish, he was heavily wounded by a traitor, via a shotgun blast that caught him outside his armour. Though he recovered in time, it took almost half a year, and he was scarred for life, physically and mentally. Outwardly undaunted by the setback, he fought on for several more years until being burned by a Voxyn on a blighted and vongformed world in the Outer Rim, and nearly killed. Near death and badly wounded, his left arm ending in a melted stump below the elbow, he was ruined and broken.
Fortunately, he was healed by of all people, a Yuuzhan Vong Shaper, in an unlikely and very precarious series of events. Though trust was at an all time low, the Shaper joined his form with a symbiote as the only means of restoring his life. His skin and face visibly deformed, he recovered his health, and then his agility and strength, and more besides. Finally, after he recieved a repulsor hand mechanical replacement adorning his left arm, he felt whole once more.
Unfortunately, almost as soon as he was restored, the rest of his life was destroyed. Death and destruction came, so fast, so widespread, so complete, and so surprising that it was all over before anyone could react. He was ripped apart forever from everything and everyone he had ever known and cared for. Nothing remained. There was nothing left, nothing to fight for, nothing to die for. Nowhere and no one. It was all gone, and with it went his own purpose.
He drifted.
Until a chance meeting turned the warrior into a hunter. It wasn't much, but the idea that there was something more to life than waiting for Death burned itself into his broken mind. He found that there was little enough pleasure in the hunt, with so very few and rare challenges, but there was something. Something was better than nothing. His body and soul scarred well beyond his years, he took up the greatest of hunts, other sentient beings.
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