Zeradias Mant
Democracy Dies in Darkness
Name: Victarion Opus
Alias(es): Vic
Title(s): Doctor
Homeworld: Nar Shaddaa
Current Locale: Etti IV
Force Sensitive: Yes
Force Rank: Apprentice
Force Alignment: Neutral
- The Blackstone Group, Business Intelligence Analyst
- Corulag University of Economics, Student
Species: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Height: 1.92m
Weight: 91kg
Eye Color: Brown
Hair Color: Dark Brown
Skin Pigmentation: Caucasian
As a child, Vic was big for is age, yet maintained an aura of innocence and softness to him. As he grew, that softness eroded and left behind a hard and lean man. He is oft clean shaven and his hair is rarely unkempt. His eyes appear to maintain a constant interest or curiosity. He maintains a sharp wit and a barbed tongue, unafraid to exert his mental complexity over those he views as inferior.
Beneath this layer of overconfidence, he is affectionate to those he hold in high regard. His loyalty is unwavering, his credo being "Loyalty is a two-way street - if I ask for yours, you can expect mine." He is cautious to let strangers into his inner circle, but once they're in, he jokingly treats it as an honor to bequeath you with his friendship.
He is known for being an honorable man with a sense of humor, refined tastes, and a beacon of hope that success can come from lower places. He enjoys creating profit almost as much as being in charge, seeing that power and money go hand in hand.
When warranted, he oft takes charge of a situation, often solving problems in unexpected ways. He is careful to navigate around the law working in the grey if necessary, but refuses to outright violate it if it can be helped.
(+) A Deeper Understanding: Forgiving isn't a word used to describe the mean streets of Nar Shaddaa. Born with the gift of a bright mind, Victarion was able to use his exceptional analytical abilities to earn a fair living off gambling (illegally). He's also extremely keen on gauging people psychologically in social situations, often resulting in accusations of him possessing the gift of foresight.
(+) From Humble Beginnings: While Victarion may be well off now, he hasn't always been. Cast into the streets of Nar Shadda at a young age, not only did he obtain a wealth of urban survival skills, but he also learned how to live among and communicate with those who'd be considered in the lower-class echelons of society. No matter how high he may rise, Victarion never forgets where he came from.
(+) Deft Hands: Having often engaged in vigilante activities, Victarion has grown accustomed to a variety of weaponry despite a lack of formal training. While he was never truly a fan of violence, he was fascinated with different weapons and their application. He used this as justification to himself to engage in violence, primarily for means of self-defense or protection. In exchange for serving as an informant, a local marshal gave Victarion his first blaster and educated him on it's use - an investment that paid off for both of them.
(+) Bipartisan: Victarion is not a devout follower of either the dark or light side of the Force, and as such, he has no philosophical barriers prohibiting from learning methods and abilities from either side. So long as the reward outweighs any potential risk, he's willing to augment his arsenal of Force abilities.
(-) Indifference: Victarion is often apathetic about a great many things. Because of this, he can seem disinterested in whatever is before him. This quirk is often off-putting, leading people to believe he wants nothing to do with them
(-) Zero Tolerance: Having lived among and dealt with criminal scum, his patience for them has diminished greatly, especially in more developed civilizations where it is possible to survive without resorting to it. Petty crime is met with harsh judgment, and he has little sympathy for those who refuse to help themselves escape undesirable conditions.
(-) Vigilante Justice: Victarion isn't afraid to take matters into his own hands. So long as the ends justify the means, he'll do whatever is necessary to punish those who deserve it.
Kin:
N/A
Friends:
[member="Vitor Avendahl"]
Mentor:
N/A
Acquaintances:
N/A
Romantic:
N/A
Rivals:
N/A
Enemies:
N/A
"The winner is Mr. Drek in Seat 8.", the Twi'lek dealer said, with the IG-86 assassin droid stepping forward to hand the young man a chit for his winnings. As the players at the table groaned at the loss, a 17 year old Victarion rose from his seat to cash out for the night. Escorted by another IG-86 to collect his winnings and exit the premises, Victarion had a taxi shuttle meet him at the door. A fake name for an illegal operation, today was just another day at the office.
Nar Shaddaa didn't exactly breed intellect - so when it came to the casinos of Promenade, it was like taking candy from a baby. Most people couldn't figure out how Victarion did it while others simply chalked it up to dumb luck. The droids didn't think, they just operated at the dealers' behest. After a couple trial games, the casino sabacc tables became an predictable equation, something Victarion was sure to exploit until the loophole was closed. Like most equations though, this one had a factor in it that wasn't accounted for.
"The winner is Mr. Drek in Seat 3.", the Twi'lek dealer said, with the IG-86 assassin droid stepping forward to hand the young man a chit for his winnings. The players at the table groaned at the loss as per usual, with Victarion once more rising from his seat to cash out for the night. As he stood up, he caught a mean glare from one of Escorted by another IG-86 to collect his winnings and exit the premises, Victarion expected his usual taxi shuttle to be at the door waiting for him. Only this time, it wasn't. It was a police cruiser with a law marshal and pair of droids waiting. As Victarion turned to find a taxi, the droids began tailing him. With each step, his breaths became amplified as the crowd's inane chatter drowned out and was replaced by the sound of clanking droid feet.
"That's far enough now, Mr. Drek."
The law marshal. Returning his head to the forward position, he bumped into the law marshal that waited outside for him. The droids surrounded him soon thereafter. They've fulfilled their purpose and adequately baited him into the law's trap. Beginning his confident monologue, he walking around Vic with a puffed chest. Speechless, the marshal continued to threaten the notion of prison. Taken aback by his aggressiveness, Victarion shook his head. Usually confident in his dealings, the threat of confinement with the very people he's been ripping off terrified him. It soon dawned on him. He recognized the face from a sabacc table he played at the past wee. With a quick twist of the head, the droids ushered him to the police cruiser that a third droid had moved behind the taxi he was about to board. As Victarion entered the back, the marshal entered the passenger seat and the other two droids resumed their patrol. With a whir, the ship began moving.
The was a quiet ride. The cab brightened and darkened rapidly as the cruiser flew past countless neon signs and holoboards. That's when the first offer came. Victarion rolled his eyes and quietly scoffed at the notion. The marshal clearly detected this as he persisted. Irritated, he returned to the forward position as he scrolled through his datapad for a couple brief moments. They knew. It must have been marked credits, it had to be. How else would they know where the money went? Would they take it back? Vic worked hard to hustle for that money, and every bit of it went back to the community. Orphanages, shelters, pantries, charities - all benefited from his vigilante thievery. How much of a crime could that really be in such a hive of scum and villainy?
Victarion glanced toward the front of the cruiser, but eventually returned his gaze to the front of the vehicle. He wasn't convinced. Why would an officer pick him up, load him up into a police cruiser, and then try to recruit him? Things like that didn't just happen. Understandably, he had his reservations. His glare turned into wide eyes as the marshal turned once more with a blaster pistol pointed at him. With a quick motion of the hand, the barrel was no longer staring him in the eye, but instead the sights were. The marshal actually notioned for him to take it.
That was it. They now had a bridge in which they could connect. He took the weapon from the law marshal and marveled at it. With a reserved smile, he offered to train him on it's use. Quid pro quo. How typical of a Nar Shaddaa native, a law enforcement officer no less.
"You're not bribing me, pig."
It took several minutes of convincing, but it wasn't a bribe. It was an offer. Self-defense, the assets of the Nar Shaddaa law marshals, a legal bailout... All it took was keeping up the casino deal, but dime out a few gangsters. He could do that.
"The winner is Mr. Drek in Seat 4.", the same Twi'lek dealer said, with the IG-86 assassin droid stepping forward to hand the young man a chit for his winnings. No groans this time. Only a handful of deathly stares came his way as he called it quits for the time being. Walking away from the table, he used his pocket holoconference device to call the marshal and update him. Only they didn't answer, at least not in time. These fellows weren't too particularly happy with losing, much less to someone who might be working the table.
With a slap downwards, his holoconference was no more, and a swift punch later, he joined it. Picking him up, the thugs carried him out back. Was this the end? Raindrops fell on his face as he grimaced in pain from the blows. The drop to the concrete ground didn't help either, his tailbone now aching in pain. After some smoking and joking, they finally made their true intentions known. They weren't just teaching him a lesson, they were giving him a pop quiz he wasn't ready for. Raching into his waistband slowly, he brandished the one thing that might save his life: the same blaster that he received from the marshal several months ago. Pew. The thug looming over him collapsed as the others ran to cover. More blaster shots began flying in opposite directions.
The thugs began dropping, shaking violently. Stun. It was the law marshals. He turned to look to see if he could confirm, but it hardly a wise choice while holding a weapon. In an instant, his entire body seized. His muscles contracted, joints locked. He could feel himself shaking in place. The pain was unreal. Vic prayed it would end soon, and his prayers were answered.
Everything faded to black.
[SIZE=8pt]Novice [[/SIZE]I] | Competence [II] | Proficiency [III] | Expertise [IV] | Mastery [V]
Firearms Training [II]
Gambling [III]
Small Craft Piloting [I]
[SIZE=8pt]Novice [[/SIZE]I] | Competence [II] | Proficiency [III] | Expertise [IV] | Mastery [V]
Precognition [I]
Force Persuation [I]
Force Listening [I]
