Varlo Jissard
The Charming Rascal
NAME: Varlo Jissard (pronounced Yissard)
FACTION: None, really
RANK: Rogue, scoundrel, rascal, etc.
SPECIES: Half Ragithian Human, half human
AGE: 30
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 6'6"
WEIGHT: 140kg
EYES: Brown
HAIR: Dark Brown
SKIN: Caucasian
FORCE SENSITIVE: No
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STRENGTHS:
- Draw Your Sword - Skilled in the way of the blade and the pistol, Varlo is a trained and experienced fighter. While he's no master of the art, and often tends to make things up as he goes along, he's proficient enough to usually hold his own.
- All's Fair in Love and War - Pseudo duelist he might be, Varlo knows that a stacked deck is a deck that usually prolongs his lifespan. He'll often do whatever he can to turn the tables from tossing sand in someone's eyes to outright cheating if it means he'll come out on top.
- More Than a Rogue - A liar, a thief, a scoundrel, a rascal... All these things and more he might be, but in all his travels through the galaxy he has found one thing that brings him inner strength in his direst moments. In his romping through the galaxy as a young man, he found himself stranded and severely ill on Ganath. Taken in by the Ganathan Church, he was cared for and, when the time came, given a ticket off world by his saviors. He never truly changed his ways, but his time among the clergy and holy places of Ganath has given him a firm belief in the divine and a (decently) strong faith in the Ganathan religion.
- A Little of This, A Little of That - Varlo is no soldier and certainly no hero. Preferring to work outside of the public view, he has no qualms with stealing, stabbing, sneaking, and the usual assortment of tricks and traits someone retains from the wrong side of the law. As such, he's known to be fairly unreliable and usually out for himself, but his skills as a scout and a sneak are nothing to pass up, making him a valuable, if variable, asset.
WEAKNESSES:
- Next Time, You Drive - Preferring to leave his skills to wenching, drinking, and the occasional fight if he can't avoid it, Varlo has only a rudimentary grasp of machine operation and holds only an expired speeder license. He can drive a speeder, but anything else is far beyond him and usually ends with spectacularly disastrous results.
- My Pants Are Not on Fire! - A liar and a cheat, his spun tales and untruthfulness often catches up with him at inopportune moments. In addition, those who know his nature are generally distrustful to some extent.
- Is This the Safety? - A swordsman and a duelist, Varlo knows his way around a blade and a pistol. When it comes to anything else, his knowledge is rather limited and his training almost non-existent. While he can probably figure it out, he's more likely to hurt himself or someone else in the process.
- They're Not Using This... - In the constant search for money to supply his dubious financial spending and because, more likely, he likes to do so, Varlo has a tendency towards kleptomania. Usually, he tries to take things of value, but really he'll take anything that takes his fancy, often stopping what he's doing to snag yet another shiny.
APPEARANCE:
Tall with a large build, Varlo is ironically fairly easy to spot. He sports a goatee or beard and keeps his dark brown hair at roughly medium length. His time spent on Ganath as a youth brought about a preference for the culture's clothing and clothing styles. He packs a little extra weight on his frame, courtesy of his mixed heritage and the lack of a high gravity world, but otherwise he's perfectly fit and in shape beneath the additional padding.
BIOGRAPHY:
Claiming to be born to a Ragithian mother and, as he puts it, 'a very brave Human father', Varlo's heritage is possibly the most truthful statement he can make. Both of his parents being merchants, he was primarily brought up in spaceports, aboard ship, and on stations across the galaxy. As a teen, he decided to set forth into the world and did so with a modest amount of savings and his parents' blessing.
Within a month he'd burned through most of his money on women and drink. Realizing he'd made a glaring mistake, he turned to one of the two professions he knew: trading. Borrowing money, he purchased a small ship, forged a pilot's license, and managed to buy up a modest amount of cargo. Unfortunately, the holonet is a terrible place to learn how to pilot a ship on the fly and, after causing a substantial amount of damage to the spaceport without managing to lift off the tarmac, he found himself facing numerous fines and penalties on top of the debts he already owed. With that, he turned to the only other skill set he possessed.
Signing on for the more clandestine odd jobs offered around the galaxy, he gradually made a name for himself as a thief, a hired gun, and a hired duelist. His work took him throughout the stars and eventually landed him in Ganathan space. Hired to steal a piece of art from a Ganathan noble, Varlo ran afoul of a poison trap set up as security within the noble's house. Escaping capture, or worse, the young man collapsed in the street in front of a Ganathan church some distance from the estate he'd tried to rob. Found in the morning by the church's clergy, he was taken in and treated by the priests and priestesses that resided there.
Months passed and Varlo's health improved with each week. Thankful, he did his best to repay their kindness when he had fully recovered, completing odd jobs around the church and trading with local merchants for the things the church needed. While never one to believe in religion before, Varlo slowly came to believe that something, or someone, had brought him to Ganath and placed him into the hands of the Ganathan Church. Deciding it was time to leave and wander once more, he converted to the Ganathan Creed before departing, determining to carry the faith that had cared for him and that he had learned with him among the stars, even if he didn't exactly quite adhere to all of the Creed's teachings.
Years later, he's back to his old ways and still plies the trades he learned in his youth. Varlo is currently seeking employment here and there, looking for the next paycheck and the next tapcaf to disappear into afterwards, though he still keeps his faith, if only privately.
SHIP:
You trust him to fly anything? I don't and I'm his writer.
KILLS:
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ROLE-PLAYS: